#i need to replay rob

[beevean]

Second half of S2. I think the best way I can summarize my state is saying

and trying to put my thoughts in order.

While it is slightly less disjointed than OG S3, the sheer number of plotlines that they attempted to tackle means that every scene lasts about 30 seconds before having to switch over. I genuinely struggled to keep up with what happens in each episode, until E6 where everything converges. And what made it even worse is the realization that... very little of what I watched actually matterered to the plot.

"But Beev, it's a character-driven story! Like Best Character Of All Time Isaac's!" I get that. And you know what? With stuff like Maria/Tera and Mizrak, I do see the potential for a good character-driven story, especially as the show is finally tackling more complex themes with vampirism instead of reducing them to elves or evil oppressors! But... I cannot get invested. I failed to connect with the characters, and the show keeps throwing other shit at me to divert my focus. This is simply a mess that has been bombarded into my eyes, while simultaneously being empty of content. And it is frustrating, because I want to like the less irritating parts.

Like this scene:

This is adorable. Random and another instance of fixing things too late, but it is a treat to see RoB Maria and finally some genuine emotions <3 literally the best scene in both shows idc. too bad it's drowned by the edgy pretentious Peak.

Anyway, time for the usual breakdown, character by character.

Taking a page from the OG S2, the heroes did nothing until the finale when they get to show off how cool they are. Think about it. Alucard recruits his sidekicks, they go to the Louvre, they get their asses kicked by Drolta, they split, and Annette suddenly has the revelation that the visions of her ancestors haunting her were trying to guide her to the solution of all of their problems: go and retrieve Sekhmet's third soul in the spirit realm.

And here I was hoping that it was some kind of internal turmoil for her. No. They were just the new Miranda, conveniently leading the hero to the solution. She just had to take five episodes to realize that for the suspence.

It's really weird. Annette in S1 was the focus of the season, infamously so, being all about her past as a slave and her desire to free everyone and thinking lowly of Richter for being a coward. Now, she was definitely made more pleasant for ship purposes, but then what is left of her? It says something that technically speaking, Annette wasn't even there in the finale! She was being possessed by Sekhmet!

Which, by the way, isn't just lovely? The descendant of a god being chosen by a god to become the vessel of a goddess. Why do we even keep Richter around?

This is not rhetorical. Why is Richter here? What does he contribute? Being the guy whose 90% of dialogue is swooning over Annette, fretting over her, telling us over and over why he loves her? (while I still don't know how Annette went from thinking he's useless to blushing around him and thinking he's cute.) Now, to be fair, he does kind of sort of talk about himself a few times... but it doesn't land. I don't care about his doubts as a Belmont now because they aren't relevant.

I've known I'm a Belmont and what that means since... since I could form words. Fighting evil, serving some kind of higher purpose. But then I watched Olrox kill my mother, and I understood the bitter fսcking truth. My mother died for absolutely nothing. Actually, she died because I tried to help her, which meant she had to protect me, and that's what got her killed. My whole life since then, I told myself it was so I could live. As if I was the higher purpose.

Why are we suddenly caring? Richter hasn't thought once of his dead moms (moms, Tera raised him too!) and in S1 he was all "I am a Belmont, and Belmonts kill vampires!". I understand the survivor's guilt, I do, I understand the logic "I need to fight otherwise my mother died for nothing", but okay, Richter, tell me: what does being a Belmont mean, in your opinion? Because it certainly isn't being locked in a generational fight against Dracula and realizing that once he dies, you have no purpose in life anymore!

The world's changing so fast. Belmonts, we're something from the past. Maybe there's no place for us anymore.

You know, I almost don't blame him. No wonder he thinks that Belmonts are a thing of the past. They sure were a thing of the 1980s-2000s. These shows hate the Belmonts with a burning passion and do everything in their power to make them tertiary.

But yeah, Richter and Annette bond over dead moms, woohoo. Thankfully this new, revamped Annette doesn't mock him over it, now that he has magic. It does get a bit ridiculous when Richter asks Alucard if he could change being Dracula's son, Alucard says that that would change other parts of himself that he'd rather not, and Richter immediately asks about his mother. I don't think Richter even knows Lisa's name, but he just can't help connecting to people through dead moms!

Oh yeah, Alucard! He's still a cunt. That's what his fans love about him. That, and how hot he looks after taking a bath in the shit-filled Seine, I suppose. E5 started with a moment so infuriating, it briefly took me to the OG S2 days:

call me carmilla the way i cry bloody tears

Now, to be perfectly fair, Annette does get her first big W by reminding Alucard that they all thought he killed Drolta and yet now she's back and stronger than ever. hell yeah it takes an asshole to put an asshole in his place 🥰 (although I wish they had done the same to her when she insulted Richter and no one reminded her that Edouard died because of her.) But more seriously, this shifts that line from "Sypha having a boner for Alucard and defending him at all costs" to "Annette trying to comfort Richter that he's not as useless as Alucard implies". I am glad that someone is finally on his side. But still, I am very tired of this. In the OG S2, Alucard was in theory justified because he was a grieving teen: how come this wise 300 yo old man still snaps at Belmonts when he's mad at himself? Now it's even worse due to the age difference. You can't have him stroke his dick over how old he is when emotionally he's still the same brat!

But yeah, this is Alucard in this season. They try so hard to make him sound old and wise and experienced and jaded. To the point where he says that he has fallen in love "countless times", and this is why he dares to give Richter advice on how to approach Annette romantically. I really don't know how to feel about this. It's not wrong, per se, but doesn't gel with my personal vision of Alucard - not just the game version, naturally, but I also can't really imagine show Alucard opening himself up like this, especially since this season paints him as being almost completely detached from human society. What sort of people does he fall in love with? The Belmonts? People like Greta? Eh, I could just take this as a cheeky reference to his Launcher of a Thousand Ships status lol. lmao imagine if they adapt the sorrow games and it turns out soma is one of alucard's many descendants when he lived his best slut life in japan fhdsjkfhskdhkj

I really don't know why they still bother to remind us that he's Dracula's son, though. Sure, they're correcting this from the OG show where the dude sympathized with vampires. But it's not like anyone gives a shit about Dracula anymore. Juste lowkey implied he's less impressive than Olrox. Richter didn't even know who Dracula was. In this setting, Dracula was just a more meow meow version of Erzsebet, not the closest thing to Satan who periodically threatens the world. Not even Dracula cares about himself anymore, since a WHOLE ECLIPSE happened and he's still chilling in Hawaii. Alucard has no reason to tie his identity to what in his perception is a dead man that was forgotten by history. He sure acts like a celebrity, though!

literally "bitch, don't you know who i am? 💅" i don't know, who are you? the one who allowed vampires to become human nobility?

There is, however, something that greatly bothers me about Alucard's untold past.

(why 14? had they said 18, it would have been a neat reference to HoD, even though I know it can't have happened)

If the Drolta plotline (more on that later) didn't convince me that this season was hastily rewritten, this would. Alucard keeps flipflopping between being solitary and being a Belmont ally through generations, which he apparently counted. I'd assume that, considering how much emphasis on his age is put, "years" for him means multiple decades, perhaps a whole century. So which is it? Did he fight alongside Christopher and Simon, whatever they did, and then got tired by the time Juste was born?

Speaking of the Belmonts, what happened to Dracula's castle? Why didn't they stay there, as their new hold? Are you going to explain that, show? No? Okay.

By the way, once again, I was ready to call Alucard a cunt (not helped by his condescending "Trevor would be proud [at Richter's sarcasm]" which I hate on principle), but him being tired of seeing Trevor's descendants die is a pretty good reason for wanting to distance himself and spare himself the pain. See, once again, I'd care much more about Alucard's experiences with immortality if he was more likeable. I'd accept him being more standoffish because his heart has been hardened by so many people dying, if he didn't start out as an 18 yo piece of shit who insulted Trevor's whole lineage for petty reasons.

Oh, and if he didn't literally, deadass, lead the actual Robespierre in the revolution. What the fuck. You know, I was joking about him telling Galileo Galilei about the heliocentric theory! Now I'm totally expecting the Sorrow adaptation to mention in passing that he was the one who killed Hitler!

And you know what? You know fucking what? For all of his posturing, Alucard is just as useless as Richter! His only purpose in the plot is to basically tell the gang "here's what we need to defeat the villain", then he failed spectacularly by allowing Drolta to snatch the McGuffin (and blamed Richter for it), then he basically inserted himself dick first in the Revolution plot to give him something to do in the two-parter finale! He didn't even care about the Revolution! He said so! The Revolution is a completely pointless backdrop to the fight against Sun Thundercat! You know, I'm impressed, I honestly thought he'd be the real protagonist of the show, but no, they managed to waste him too. peak.

Maria, Tera and Juste are all connected, but Maria is pretty much the only character going through an arc here, as Juste is nothing more than Maria's babysitter and adoptive grandpa (yeah, clearly they're trying to establish a "found family" theme as also mentioned by Alucard, but sure it's nice of him to call Maria his family when dude abandoned his blood grandson and hasn't still quite reconnected with him). I think that what they're trying to do with him is to basically prevent Maria from falling down the same pit of despair he did until two days ago, but it doesn't really work, Juste feels like a plot device and Maria's reaction is different than his anyway, since she's falling into... well, edginess.

In fact, Maria is so edgy, that she out of nowhere gets the idea of making her mom bite her to turn her!

Maria: It feels good... to have such power. To control such powerful forces. To have power over life and death. Juste: It shouldn't feel good, Maria. The world can be a dark place, full of horror. But if you surrender to the darkness, what's the point in living? None of us counts for much. All of us will be forgotten eventually. But there's something miraculous about us being here at all. To see this world. Breathe its air. Smell the forest at night. Feel the sun on our skin. If we're still able to do that... there is a point in living. Maria: And maybe there's even more point in living forever. He's right. This was different. Killing my father. This was murder. I can never go back to who I was. But I could be with you forever. *exposes neck*

Just a taste of the dialogue here. Juste doesn't even feel like a real person at this point. Why is he talking to Maria like she said that she wants to die? Is he projecting his own depression? Or is it only so that she can talk about living forever?

Maria, the girl who sees the world in black and white and therefore slotted vampires in the "evil" category, being ready to ditch her humanity because she'd rather live with her mom forever and perhaps out of guilt for killing her father out of revenge and not a righteous reason, is a very interesting idea. And this is why it's never brought up again :) Tera, with shocking self control for a newborn vampire, runs away from her to "find herself", leaving Maria crying and to be comforted by Juste. By the way, Tera's arc is done here lol. She runs away, lowkey implying that she manipulated Maria into killing her dad because "he deserved to die", and then she's the only open plot thread left for S3, enjoying the executions and perhaps glad of the dark path taken by her daughter, leaving ambiguous how much vampirism corrupted her.

Again, I kinda like this arc. I like that it ends with Maria declaring that the humans who worked alongside vampires (which I didn't notice at all, but maybe it was because I was inundated with too much Peak) deserve to be executed, probably still thinking about Emmanuel. It just rings hollow because Maria has always been a serious righteous fuck who only cared about the Revolution, with all that it entails, so I don't see much of a change in her. Maybe it could have worked better if they hadn't been cynical hacks in S1 and kept her RoB innocent personality. And I'm also irritated that they could have given this corruption arc to someone else...

(also, since I'm a horrible person, I am compelled to point out that the show leans heavily onto the "bite is sexual" trope, as shown by how predatory Sun Thundercat is with women and later on by Olrox with Mizrak. Therefore, having Maria begging for her own mother to bite her so that the two could live forever together is very. mh. well this is getting interesting i suppose)

As for the villains, before the finale, I just have to say: why in the sheer fuck do the villagers bow down to an obviously foreign vampire noblewoman?

Your Abbot, as you know, is dead. Murdered by a revolutionary. Your Abbot compared me to Joan of Arc. But I am not like her. She was defeated, burned like a witch. I will burn all your enemies. All your oppressors. Burn them all to ash. I am the one who wields the knife.

I get that these people are against the revolution, but really? They trust her as being better? I don't know anymore. Also her Sun Thundercat 2.0 transformation is a punch in the eye but we all know that.

oh right, olrox and mizrak. uhhhh they spend most of the time still doing their drama. Olrox is a passive force who mostly spends his time spying on everyone, Mizrak wants to fight. Since they don't really matter, I'll summarize the rest of their arc here: Mizrak joins the fight like he suddenly belongs, he's fatally wounded by a random vampire, Olrox saves him and decides to turn him into a vampire. The last shot we see of them is vampire Mizrak ready to rail that cockrox raw lmao. And, again, this is a good concept. Mizrak was shown being torn between his faith and his desire to sin with Olrox: therefore, vampirism for him means shedding his inhibitions and indulging in the sinful pleasures he has always coveted. This is good! And completely irrelevant to the story! Even thematically, vampirism hasn't been treated in this way by the story, not even with Tera! These two just make their own sideplot that never intersects with the main one! What's with this series and being unable to organically integrate gay people into their plot?

Okay, I think I covered everyone, so it's time for the grand finale.

The final fight is basically two episodes straight of this

and it's boring. I'm sorry. I get that the animation is cool and the anime fights are cool, but I just find boring to watch a bunch of people throw flashy but redundant spells to an invincible foe. Yeah yeah muh Harmony of Dissonance spells, that just pisses me off at this point, you didn't even mention Maxim once and had him and Lydie be fridged offscreen while the game can't happen due to the lack of Dracula's relics but you're pretending we're suddenly fans of the games?

(a small correction, though. Apparently, Juste's ring is not meant to be the friendship bracelet, but the Aurora Ring, the one that increases the power of the Sacred Fist. While I don't understand why it's specifically that ring, since Juste never uses punches, I do appreciate a more niche reference.)

Hey guys. Remember how fun it was to play Portait of Ruin and having to protect Charlotte for 20 seconds as she casts her plot-solving spells? This is Sekhmet's role in the fight. A sitting duck who tries, for half an hour of real time, to absorb Sun Thundercat's Sekhmet soul to weaken her, while Richter sometimes goes to cool her down with his ice powers. For a goddess, she is quite weak. And I would dearly love for someone to come here and explain to me what the fuck was that monster that Annette fought for the entirety of the finale in the spirit world. And, in the meantime, Alucard and Olrox fight Drolta, with the weird implication that the latter is stronger than Dracula's son since he's much more successful at keeping her down (and that they met once, because we like making fans speculating). Again, I need to stress out: the heroes do nothing of importance until the plot lets them win.

And then this happens.

alright. So, memes are in order.

But I think it's time to talk about rewrites, right?

Sun Thundercat's death feels not just pathetic, but spiteful. Compare it with other deaths: Dracula cried that he was killing his boy and let himself be impaled, Carmilla exploded herself to not allow Isaac to claim a victory, Lenore sunned herself because her life got a little more uncomfortable. They are undignified deaths, but they are at the very least graceful. We are meant to feel something for them. Sun Thundercat has an utterly pathetic breakdown, and then she's randomly betrayed by Drolta, who cements herself as the Real Big Bad.

No one liked her. Erzsebet Bathory has been, from day one, derided as a flat, cartoonish villain with a stupid plan. Her design is ridiculous, her personality never goes beyond "smug wannabe goddess", and her only power is being invincible. She is boring, and always has been. But Drolta? Oh, Drolta was cool. Nevermind that in S1 she also had the depth of a piece of paper. Everyone loved her many designs, everyone thirsted over her BDSM get up, everyone thought she was a huge badass in fight. So, what did they do? Give her a whole backstory and kick her upwards to the role of the true puppetteer who was in control the whole time :) basically, they gave her the Isaac in S3 treatment.

yeet, you waste of screentime

And in the meantime, I'm here left asking two questions. One, why didn't Drolta absorb Sekhmet's soul from the get go, instead of wasting so much time finding the right vessel and killing countless women? She had no hesitation trying it now.

And two... why did we spend so much time with Sun Thundercat? What was the point of hyping her up as this great figure, much more terrifying than Dracula, only for this to happen? This isn't cathartic. This isn't fun.

Sun Thundercat is a pathetic villain, by far the worst in the series, even more wasted than Carmilla, with less feats on her belt than everyone combined despite the hype. And they didn't even try to fix her. Instead of making her a better character, they doubled down on her being flat and then pulled a bait and switch for fanservice purposes. Drolta is probably the most inoffensive villain in the series since Dracula, but that doesn't erase the sloppy, disingenuous writing.

She doesn't put much of a better fight, either. Now Alucard joins Richter in their epic team up, because of course. And I'm going to sound like a Classic purist, but I am sick and tired of the shows ignoring the Vampire Killer. Why in the fuck is Richter fighting Drolta with magic punches? Didn't Dracula mock Trevor for that? You have a consecrated whip, you imbecile!

oh, then they redo the same scene they did with Sun Thundercat, with Sekhmet being all angery that Drolta defiled her, Drolta sobbing and whimpering that she did everything for her, and the two engaging in some sort of Avatar spiritual fight that makes Annette's eyeballs explode or some shit.

Btw, gotta love this epic reference to Sonic '06:

I don't think you will live anywhere if you don't let her do her thing, genius.

I could be generous and think that he's so attached because he doesn't want to lose another person. I like some details here, like Richter using his ice magic to embrace Annette's searing body. It's just. I don't buy this romance's foundations, because S1 fumbled so bad. Alucard says that Annette laughs at Richter's jokes, and debates his ideas, which means that she loves him, but is that really enough for him to declare that she's more important than the world he swore to protect? Also, why does Annette like him back? Because he constantly tries to protect her, even though that should piss her off according to her S1 personality?

btw

shut up you cunt

Speaking of the cunt, Richter kills Drolta by using Alucard's sword infused with ice magic. No, I have no clue why it works except anime logic. The Vampire Killer can go fuck itself. yay. To top it all off, Richter is surprisingly chill when he spots Olrox, even calmly echoing his promise of "killing him one day, but not today". hey, remember how Richter used to suffer from PTSD over his mom's murder and panicked at Olrox' presence? remember how Olrox was built up to be this msyterious, charismatic figure with his own agenda and plans for the little Belmont? guess that's another tease for S3!

The ending feels like a fusion of the one of OG S2 and S4. Richter and Annette pull a whole Trepha and abandon Maria to her own grief. Nice job guys! She is still crying for her parents but you just have to bone in private, I suppose! So much for muh family! Well, at least Maria will hang out with her new grandpa and Alucard, who...

ah. mhh. well. This is bound to be very funny lol.

(btw, it's perfectly fine for a 16 yo to crush on an older man lol. We'll just have to see what said older man will do with it.)

Oh, Edouard! I forgot about him because he was nothing more than a jukebox: his only character development is that his extra hands move away from his face, maybe because he's no longer ashamed of himself. Well, he's coming to Saint Domingue too with Annette and Richter! Yes, as a Night Creature. Annette simply says "the people there have had worse nightmares than you" and the matter is settled. Hey, remember when she felt guilty for being the cause of his fate? Remember when she was this close to mercy killing him? It doesn't matter anymore! Yay, just like Dracula and Lisa! Conflict is for those who are sure they're going to get a next season!

And while Richter and Annette kiss and are all cute and everyone is happy, I'm left wondering who was the true protagonist of this season. Richter? No, he did fuck all until the end. Annette? Same. Alucard? He could have vanished in E1. Maria? She got a lot of focus, but ultimately irrelevant to the main conflict. Juste? Tera? Mizrak? Olrox? Don't make me laugh.

Drolta, then? The season took the time to give us her backstory to explain how she got here. She stole the mummy, which is what caused the final fight. And that's it. Once again, I feel the need to use Carmilla as a comparison: she was the true star of the OG S2, because she was the only character in both plotlines to actively do something, and she acted throughout the whole season, even if in the end she didn't get what she wanted. What is this season even about? How do you summarize it? Why is it so rushed and confusing? Why did they try so much and muddle every theme they could have tackled, like the effect of vampirism on your soul, or the dark path grief can take you, or finding a new family?

and oh right. the shadowy figure that seems interested in maria and tera. i don't even know. we'll see in s3 i guess. which will happen, since this season has currently a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes because it is considered peak fiction.

anyway,

[corneredcopia]

Whatever…more stob spoiler thoughts…speculating 🫣 (read tags)

I know it’s basically fanon that Rob can easily check stone’s heart rate, blood pressure, etc. through Stone’s watch or with a swipe of Rob’s control gloves….

So do you guys think if the same idea was implemented in canon it could work the other way around? Since Stone still has his watch on after crawling out of the water do you think he could have been alerted of Ivo’s pulse? When it slowed down after Gerald revealed his true plan to Ivo, when it quickened during their fight, or maybe when it fell back to normal when he spoke to stone over the livestream?

And do you think Stone could’ve been notified when it had halted to an immediate stop?

[ansburg]

yall ever read da meta and know that op thought they were cooking. but the post is like this

[calebly]

thinking about the fact selena and rob's love is literally "I'll find you in every universe"

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I think I’m spiraling out of reality and into a state of psychosis where all I listen to is Victoria Monet’s discography on repeat

[truethes]

the fun thing about luoch.a is the realisation of how his defense isn't donning a mask, he's more of an actor instead. the version of him that you meet is typically the version of him that you, as a person, have interpreted in your head - and one in which he, in turn, will continue to play off as and, effectively complete that role.

like please think complete angelina joli.e girl interrupted rn: i'm playing the villain baby, just like you want.

[writersdrug]

omg you mind holy wow i love your brain i would never come to lobotomize you omgomg by god i need more bartender!simon you recently mention, maybe abt how they interact and develop? idk i really dont care what exactly you write, i js need any words from you abt bartender!simon

Hmmmmmm I have some headcannons!

You show up for work thirty minutes early because you're NOT risking losing this job.

Simon sometimes lets you bang on the back door for a few minutes, yelling for someone to let you in, until Soap gets tired of hearing it and opens the door. Simon finds it funny.

You think Simon is the owner of the pub until Price comes in one day with cash for your tip payout. You screamed as soon as you saw him walk in through the backdoor, thinking you were being robbed.

Simon barely managed to swing into the kitchen and grab you around the waist before you pummeled Price with an empty beer keg.

Price later told Simon he thought you were a perfect addition to the team.

You do your tips at the end of the bar every night as Simon polishes the glasses across from you. Lets you have one drink on the house.

First floor is the restaraunt/pub, second floor is the pantry/walk-in fridge/office where Price does money work, third floor is the studio apartment where Simon lives (Price discounted it for him).

When it's slow, you and Simon and Johnny all take a smoke break in the alley out back - you don't smoke, but you talk to them while they share a cig, complaining about customers together.

You bring it up to Simon that you've noticed how Johnny always comes to the front of house when Kyle brings the new kegs in, "Simon, need ya to check somethin' - ah, hey, Garrick!"

Simon scoffs at your revelation. "Jus' now seein' that?"

You live ten blocks away from the pub and ride your bike to work. Simon let's you stuff it in the alley for safekeeping.

If you're feeling especially sporty, you pop in your earbuds and take your skateboard. Simon nearly had the breath sucked from his soul when he saw you zipping by the window the first time.

You mop front of house because Simon hates it. Simon restocks the to go boxes because you can't reach the top shelf where the overflow sits.

You tried to pour a lager once when Simon was busier than usual. After watching you attempt it, he banned you from doing it ever again.

You enter Pino grigio in the POS as "peeno greeshio" and Simon hates it, but you love the way Soap cackles from the kitchen when he sees it.

Kyle sometimes sticks around to help you drag the new beer kegs up the stairs, and he shows you how to connect them to the taps.

You're constantly begging Price to set up a Karaoke machine in the corner of the bar. He says when you can afford it, you can buy it.

You broke the soda gun once; you and Soap were frantically filling container after container with tonic water while Simon was on his back under the bar, cursing and trying to turn the water off.

Monday mornings are deep-clean days, and everyone has to participate. You're all wearing sweats and bleach-stained shirts, pulling out the stove, sweeping behind the kegs, dragging the mats into the alley to clean them, emptying the fridge and scrubbing the entire thing.

Simon doesn't like to think too much about how hot you look in your sweatpants, ratty t shirt, and sweaty, flushed skin when you're exerting yourself.

You're constantly thinking about how those sweatpants hug his hips, those muscles in his arms flexing, and the grunts he makes when he's shoving the stove back into its place.

Simon gives you full permission to return any nasty attitude the customers dish at you.

After you go home for the night, Simon often finds himself lying on his bed, one arm behind his head and the other hand on his chest, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day - and they're all centered around you

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Meltdown

Steven Grant x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Steven's had a bad day.

A/N: For @cosmic-kid-in-motion & @romanarose's Disability Visibility Event.

Warnings: Steven having a meltdown, sensory overload, (I know a lot of people experience this differently, I'm just heavily going off what I experience), reader is not in the fic very much, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 686

The door bangs against the wall as it opens, the sound is jarring. Too loud as it rings out and rattles up Steven’s spine. He flinches, his hands automatically covering his ears as he presses his palms against his head. 

He pushes too hard, much harder than he needs to, but he can’t stop. Can’t lessen his strength. If it tries hard enough, he’ll be able to shove them into his brain and squeeze it dry. 

Tears sting his eyes, pressure building along his shoulders and bending his back under its weight. He needs to curl up and shut everything out. 

He manages to close the front door, lock it, before he throws his back and jacket to the floor, stripping quickly. His jeans rub. Painful and heavy and itchy and it just wants to shred the fabric into tiny fucking pieces. The seams are made of glass, cutting into his skin and irritating him the whole journey home. 

His shirt is the wrong material. Too stiff and cold, it made his skin shiver and sweat, and now it just stuck to him in the wrong places. He tears it off too, leaving him in his boxers and socks as he rushes to the bed. 

The tears are starting to fall. He hates that. Hates that it’s happening. Hates that he can’t stop them. Hates how babish it is and why can’t he just get a fucking grip? Why can’t he just get over things? Why does the smallest, most insignificant stuff upset him so badly that he can’t even fucking function for the journey home? 

He’s shivering, the action replaying on repeat and annoying him even more. He rubs his fingers together, pressing as hard as he can over and over. This action is soothing. Or at least it would be, if everything wasn’t already so much. 

Quickly, he climbs into bed, wrapping himself up in the blanket as tightly as he can like a cocoon. He covers his head and then presses his face into the pillow, laying on his stomach awkwardly with his arms pinned to his sides. Like he was in a tomb. 

He’s uncomfortable, it aches. But the sensation is different, controlled. He is in control. His heart thuds in his chest, racing way too fast and making nausea build in his throat. 

Laying like this makes him lightheaded, like he can’t take a full breath of air. But it’s preferable. He can pretend that he’s doing it. That it’s the position that’s squeezing his lungs and robbing him of oxygen. Nothing else. Nothing else. Nothing fucking else. 

If he can just get to sleep. Just for a little while. Ten minutes. Then he’ll be okay. This will be over. Tears won’t be soaking into the pillow. His skin won’t be burning and everything won’t be so fucking loud that he wants to rip his flesh off. 

Your keys are too loud in the lock. They jingle, piercing his ears and making him want to scream. 

Your footsteps echo. Like thunder, rain pouring down and soaking the earth and if he can’t just have fucking five minutes to himself to fucking be quiet and deal and just fucking-

“Steven?” Your voice is worried. Sweet. And normally it would be so welcome, it wouldn’t put his teeth on edge like he had an exposed root. 

He says nothing. Nothing. 

But somehow… you seem to know. 

He drifts off at some point, unsure of the exact point when. But when he wakes you must have put your weighted blanket on top of him, the heaviness of it is comforting, encompassing. 

There’s a cup of tea on the side table, in the cute thermo cup with hieroglyphics that you bought him last month to keep it warm. There are biscuits on a side plate, too. 

As he sits up, he can see that his clothes have been put in the laundry basket, his bag on the hook by the door. 

He smiles slightly, his limbs heavy like he’d just run a few marathons. Lightly, he rubs his fingers against his thumbs. The action soothing.

Thank you for reading!

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[circlebuttons]

Rafe on Love Island

- this is a throw away rant because of how obsessed i am w love island us rn. I feel like Rafe would be a mix of leah and rob with a bit of caine for rule breaking.

-

You get coupled with Rafe in love island on the very first night. When all the guys walked in your eyes were on him immediately, he's taller and broader than everyone else in his sharp grey suit with his white button down being unbuttoned just a tad. The closer he gets you notice that his eyes are already locked on you. His eye contact makes your heart race and the cherry on top is the sly smirk that creeps up on his face when you lean over to the two girls you already befriended in such a short time and quietly inform them that, "Buzzcut is mine." He scoffs out a silent laugh on account of you never look away from him once or block your lips from being able to be read. You're the first person he introduces himself too, holding your hand firmly and probably for a bit too long.

He sits on the couch facing you and during the icebreaker questions you learn that Rafe Cameron is a man who's lived a lot of lives but is now a certified businessman, looking to find his first ever stable relationship. The most important thing you learn is that your feelings of attraction are mutual when he pulls a card that reads "Kiss the islander who you think is a gold digger"

His eyes immediately land you and he clarifies to everyone that he's picking you not because he thinks your a gold digger, but because he'd rather have you be his sugar baby, it's all about perspective at the end of the day.

"You can take all my money" he mumbles before kissing you gently at first with a coy hand on your neck, but you're the one to deepen it and he follows your lead immediately before you break apart, softly saying, "Nice to meet you" while using your finger to wipe the rouge lip combo that you both are now wearing.

There's no doubt in your mind when picking Rafe to couple up with. After the coupling Rafe is on your heels following you like a puppy to an area of couches where you're meant to get to know each other a bit better before sharing a bed. There he asks a lot more questions about yourself, hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth. You eventually leave to go get ready for bed and he reluctantly separates from you, being the first one under the covers laying awake with bright eyes when you climb in on the other side of him. "Courtesy pillow?" he asks looking at you cautiously. "Not unless you need it, I'll behave for the first night" you smirk at him before turning to your side and getting comfortable and little do you know how long he stares at the ceiling replaying every event from today, avoiding reminiscing on the kiss to avoid becoming too worked up, but worked up nonetheless because he feels insane for falling for a girl this fast into the game.

That morning Rafe wakes up with a smile on his face for the first time in ages and he wakes up like that everyday in the villa because no matter what it's always you. He's nothing short of obsessed with you, just as much as you are him, but the two of you being head over heels doesn't make for good tv until Rafe starts playing more defensively. The first male bombshells that get added to the villa get nothing but glares from him as they get way to comfortable with you in the games and attempt to pull you for chats while you're literally right next to him. Production had made it clear that it was off limits to physically fight, so Rafe had to settle for pulling in other guys for secret "chats" instead where he'd just loom over them and make sure it was understood you were happy being coupled with him.

Production would have to step in again to remind rafe that it was also against the rules to hinder filming in anyway meaning saying blunt no's when another girl tries to pull him or turning his head when the objective of a game is to kiss. It unexpectedly makes better tv when Rafe starts his malicious compliance as he sits either blank or stank faced and awkwardly silent in one on one chats with girls who insist on talking with him and in challenges the cameras capture the disgusted tight lipped faces he makes when he's forced to kiss someone else. You feel the same way he does, you're a bit more complacent with production and don't mind participating. It bothers Rafe sure, but at the end of the day it fuels him seeing you kiss another islander and knowing that he's ten times better than any of these guys will ever be. You and Rafe discussed that you have to do what you have to do for tv, but outside of mini games there was to be exclusivity. Exclusive is a word you use a lot, waiting until the outside to be a real couple.

Although what you don't wait for is having sex in the villa after finding out all the guys left for casa amor. Hearing that Rafe was the only guy to refuse not only made you proud, but surprisingly horny too. Making out at night or even grinding on each other wasn't foreign to either one of you, it's when your hand drifts into Rafe's waistband that he shoots up to flip you under him, eager to finally have all of you. After that night the two of you sneak around fucking like absolute bunnies. You protest weakly every time he starts kissing on your neck, knowing what's about to to happen, mumbling "Fuck me, my moms watching" before you the two of you duck under covers and have the best sex of your lives.

[pedroscurls]

robbed of you (one-shot)

summary: the days don't get any easier... and today in particular, you're reminded of that fateful day.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with no happy ending), events in TLOU 2 and that specific scene will set the tone for the story, slight deviation from what happens in that scene, brief mentions of blood and violence, descriptions of grief, no use of y/n. word count: 1.7k a/n: ok, i just wanted to make myself suffer i guess??? this story is set in TLOU 2 after the event so hope that gives y'all some idea of what this story will be lmao. honestly, i listened to robbed by rachel chinouriri and could not stop thinking about joel. maybe i'm trying to prepare myself for what's to come in april lmao. anyway, enjoy <3 song: robbed by rachel chinouriri

“Gotta get up, darlin’,” he whispers into your ear, his strong arms tightening around you from behind. “Annual picnic at the lake.�� 

“Just a few more minutes,” you mumble sleepily, leaning into him. 

He chuckles—it comes deep from his chest and vibrates from behind you; you always loved the sound of his laugh. “Lucky I love you,” he says, peppering kisses along your bare shoulder. “But you know Ellie’s gonna be here any minute.” 

“Okay, I’m up,” you giggle, turning around in his arms as you bring your hands to his chest. “That girl can be persistent.” 

“And she won’t let us hear the end of it,” he smiles—dimple appearing on his cheek, deep brown eyes sparkling against the sun that peeks through your bedroom window. 

“Joel?” you whisper, smile falling from your lips. “Don’t go.” 

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby,” he reassures with a smile. “Always gonna be right here.” 

You’re about to say something, but your dream shifts dramatically—your mind is replaying that moment all over again. All you can hear is Ellie screaming. All you can feel is the weight of someone else’s body pressing you against that same tiled floor—helpless. All you can see is his bloodied body on the floor with her standing above him with a golf club. 

“Joel, get up. Joel, fucking get up!” Ellie pleads, wiggling against her restraint. 

Joel’s eye glances at the two of you—those same brown eyes now filled with regret, with fear. With the strength he has left, he flexes his fingers and tries to reach out for you—his girls. He’s helpless. He can’t save you. He can’t save Ellie. He’s going to die.

“Please stop! Please don’t do this.” Ellie continues. “Joel, please get up.”

Then almost as if it’s slow motion, you see her bring the golf club down his skull and his body stops moving—eyes now falling shut. The raise of his chest ceases immediately. Joel’s dead. Joel’s gone. The man you love is killed right before your eyes. 

“Joel, baby…” you mumble, tears now streaking down your cheeks. 

“Nooo!” Ellie yells, sobbing. 

Suddenly, you jerk awake and sit up in bed—chest tight, breath caught in your throat, and you look around the room haphazardly. Tears now fill your eyes and you reach over to rest your hand on the unoccupied space—his side of the bed has been empty for six months now.

The sun peeks through the bedroom window and you bring your legs up to your chest, letting out a loud sob into your knees. Annual picnic, you think. The first picnic without him. How could it already be six months? It still felt like yesterday that both you and Ellie lost him.

You had joined Ellie on her trek to find Abby and the rest of the group. Neither of you talked about him—fueled by anger, pain, grief, and the need to avenge his death. Ellie had told you that killing her would not bring him back, that it wouldn’t make you feel any better—Joel would have been proud of his baby girl. 

“Don’t,” Ellie says. You’re bruised and cut up after having had a physical altercation with Abby. “H–He’s not coming back. This isn’t going to bring him back.”

“He’s dead!” you yell—the unresolved grief, the feelings that you tried so hard to push deep down now coming back up without warning. Tears are strolling down your cheeks and your grip around Abby’s neck tightens. “She killed him! Right in front of us, Ellie… We weren’t supposed to lose him. He wasn’t—,” a sob catches in your throat and you look down at the young woman, frail and defeated, with a pleading gaze in your direction. 

“Y–You took him away from us,” you say through gritted teeth. “He was only doing what he thought was right and he kept that with him all these years! H–He never meant to hurt anyone, never meant to kill anyone…” You squeeze tighter and Abby begins to squirm against your grip. “He was only protecting the people he loved.”

“Stop!” Ellie begs, running over to you and pulling on your arm. “He wouldn’t want this!” 

You look at Ellie and for a brief moment, you see him—the man who you would now spend the rest of your days thinking about, reliving the memories you shared instead of creating new ones with him. “Ellie…”

She stares into your eyes, tears falling from her own face. She looks like the young girl you remember all those years ago when she had first come to Jackson with Joel. “It ends here,” she says. 

You shut your eyes and see Joel—he’s smiling at you, almost nodding in agreement. Then suddenly, you release your grip around Abby and shove her aside, falling back into the water. “Go,” you whisper through tears. “Just take him and go.” 

Ellie sits next to you in the water and you gather her into your arms—for the first time since losing him, you both begin to let out all of the pent up emotions that you and Ellie had pushed aside. 

“He’d be so proud of you,” you tell her, holding her face against the crook of your neck. 

Ellie looks up at you and she cries harder.

Your world ended when you lost him six months ago. Nothing had been the same since coming back to Jackson—heart broken and now an empty home that felt too big for just you. The minute you stepped into the house, you felt your legs buckle underneath you. Everything was untouched—remnants of Joel scattered around. Empty mug of coffee on the kitchen counter. Unfinished guitar in his woodworking room. Reading glasses on his nightstand. 

How could the world continue on when yours ended the day you lost him?

Since coming back from California, you have tried to keep yourself busy. Tried to take your mind off the lingering fact that you would only end the day in an empty home. A home that you once shared with a man that had given you hope in an otherwise hopeless world. 

Ellie wanted to give you your space and even when Dina started to show more and more, you couldn’t bring yourself to go to their house. It just made you sad…because you knew that Joel wasn’t here to see this. Joel wasn’t going to be here to see this baby grow up.

The promises you made to each other—broken, but not by choice. 

“I promise, baby,” he had said. “I will always fight to come home to you.” 

It echoes in your mind now as you gather the blankets and pull it over your head, curling into a ball. Even with the sun shining through your window, your world remained dark. Dull. Empty.

How could you enjoy every day knowing that he isn’t here to enjoy it with? 

You shut your eyes tightly, gripping the blanket in a tight grip as you feel a sob begin to catch in your throat. Sometimes, if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can hear him. Can see him. Can feel him. 

“I–I can’t do this without you,” you whisper into the empty void. To no one. Tears fall from the corners of your eyes and streaks down your cheeks. “How do I keep going, Joel? How–,” you let out a loud whimper. “You shouldn’t have left. You shouldn’t have–.”

“Shh now, darlin’.” You can hear him—a figment of your imagination. “Just breathe f’me, okay?” 

You inhale deeply and then let out a shaky exhale slowly. It doesn’t help, just makes your cry harder. 

“M’sorry. M’so so sorry.” 

“I love you. I’m fucking sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

Suddenly, you feel a featherlight tingle across your cheek and it makes you open your eyes wide. You can’t see in the darkness underneath your blanket, but you don’t bother to lift it over your head. This—in the dark, alone and away from everyone else—is where you feel closest to him. 

“Today’s our annual picnic,” you mumble. “The first one without you. The first summer without you. The many firsts without you.” 

And then the tingle happens again. It encourages you to continue, but you can feel the ache and weight in your chest—grief, sorrow, regret all encompassing. 

“I just–I just want you here,” you say quietly. “You made my world brighter. I know that may not seem like it considering how we met, but you did. You gave me so much hope, Joel, and now… Now I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to keep on living, to keep on moving forward without you. I–I can’t imagine moving on in my life without you.” 

“You will be okay, darlin’.” Another tingle, a light touch and it raises goosebumps along your arm. “And I’ll always be here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

You shut your eyes tightly again and can feel your chest tightening with each breath. You try to curl further into yourself—trying to disappear, to wake up from this nightmare of your life. Behind closed eyelids, you see him—smiling so big, dimple on his right cheek, brown eyes sparkling against the sunlight that glimmers across the water of the lake. It’s a memory from before, a memory from your annual picnic with him and Ellie. 

The days haven’t gotten any easier. Instead, each day is harder than the last and each day you’re always left wondering how you can keep pushing forward. Joel’s absence—his death—has left a gaping hole in your heart that only he could fill. 

Your heart would never be able to stop mourning. 

You feel yourself begin to drift into a light sleep—your sobs quieting slowly. You meet him in your dreams—it’s a whole other life that you find yourself escaping to every chance you could get. Because in your dreams, he’s here with you. He’s alive.

“So, we gonna get up before Ellie barges in here?” he grins. Your dream continues from earlier—the sun peeking through the window as his strong arms pull you closer to him. 

You nod, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Y–Yeah, but first, can we just lay here for a few minutes? I just–I just want to revel in this moment with you for a bit.” 

He nods, presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “Bad dream?” 

“The worst,” you answer shakily. 

“M’sorry, baby.” Joel tightens his grip around you—it grounds you, makes you feel safe. “Anythin’ I can do?” 

You just shake your head and nuzzle your face into his chest. You can feel his heart beating, can feel the warmth of his body, can hear him breathing. “Just stay here with me.”

“Always,” he whispers. “I love you.”

[musubi05]

╰┈➤ Pie Contest

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: A fair contest? And it involves pie? This was yours and Deans time to shine.

Warning: None!

It was the perfect day out today. The sun was shining down on the earth as a slight breeze blew once in a while. A perfect 75 degrees out in the summer season. And you know what happens in the summer? The county fair! It was you first time ever going to one of these since you never really had the time before you and your brothers found the bunker.

You and Dean decided to go while Sam and Eileen went on a date. You were happy for Sam. Eileen was great and you loved her but you couldn't help but wonder how Sam was feeling about getting into a relationship. A relationship that could actually last and he didn't have to hide about being a hunter. You wondered if he still thought about Jessica.

So you went to the fair to distract yourself and to have some bonding time with Dean.

"Holy shit that ride is insane!" Dean stumbled as he got out of the cage first. You both were brutally tossed around by a little ride called The Zipper.

You followed behind him, gripping his shoulder for stability as you laughed so hard, your stomach ached. "You were screaming your ass off!"

"Could you blame me?!" Dean gasped dramatically, "Don't even get me started on the part where it went backwards."

You breathed out through your mouth to calm yourself down. You were holding everything back from replaying the moment in your head and sending you into another fit. Dean just shook his head, smiling as he watched you struggle to calm down.

You put your hands into the pockets of your jeans. "Okay what's-"

"Hi! Exuse me, sorry to bother you two! But we're doing a pie contest and need another two people. Whoever wins gets a $50 to the diner in town!" A worker spoke so fast it sounded like she was rapping.

"Wha-" Dean started to ask a question but again was cut off.

"Yes? Perfect! Right this way!" The girl grabbed your arm gently but enough force to pull you by surprise. You instinctively latched onto Dean, dragging him with you.

The both of you followed this worker to the food area where there was a stage, some chairs and many food trucks surrounding the area. The girl brought you both up on the stage where two other people were waiting being a table covered with a cloth.

You shot Dean a look. Are we really doing this?

He just shrugged and smiled like he was just going with the flow. You rolled your eyes at the response and looked back in front of you when the girl let go.

"You guys can go join the people at the table. The pies will be right out." And off she went in a hurry back down the stairs.

"I didn't even get to ask what kind of pie it was." Dean pouted as he confidently walked over to the table to sit down. Oh you could tell he wanted to do this.

"Like that matters to you," you teased as you followed him and sat at the end of the table so you could be furthest from the two random men. There was a good amount of space between each person. Everyone had three plates in front of them that were lined up in a row, a napkin, and one glass of water.

Oh this was going to be fun.

You glanced out at the fairgrounds, taking in the mix of delicious smells—fried dough, grilled meat, fresh popcorn. Each inhale made you hungrier. Meanwhile, Dean was side eyeing the other contestants like they were about to rob him.

A few moments later, the same woman returned, this time with a few workers carrying stacks of pies. She grabbed a microphone from a stand on the side of the platform and addressed the growing crowd. "Hello folks! Come grab a seat if you'd like to watch the pie contest while you eat!" She started off with.

People started filling in the vacant seats catching you by surprised. Who wanted to see people inhaling pie at an alarming rate? Dean, on the other hand, looked thrilled as the workers placed three full pies in front of him.

"The rules are simple: Eat all three pies faster than the others and you'll win a $50 gift card to the downtown diner! These pies are exclusively from them."

The worker put down three pies on your plates. Apple, pumpkin and cherry were the lucky three pies going in your stomach.

"Okay, contestants! Are you ready?" The woman asked as if she's an announcer at a race track. You just shrugged while the boys nodded confidentially. The other local contestants were stretching their jaws like they were about to run a marathon.

"Alright, baby sis," Dean said, cracking his knuckles. "Try to keep up, yeah?"

"Oh, please. You’re old, Dean. I have youth on my side."

He scoffed.

"Three… two… one… EAT!"

You started on the apple and the first bite was heaven. Sweet, flaky crust, perfectly spiced - it was everything you had dreamed of. You powered through, determined to prove that Dean wasn’t the only Winchester who could put away ungodly amounts of food.

Dean was in the zone, shoveling pie into his mouth like a man possessed. He threw you a glance, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s, and you glared back, determined to beat him.

Halfway through, the two of you were neck and neck. The other contestants never stood a chance. The crowd cheered as you each devoured pie after pie, but then you glanced over at Dean. You smirked, taking a second to watch your big brother in his natural habitat-face full of pie, eyes gleaming with pure joy. It was rare to see Dean so carefree. No monsters, no hunts, no looming threats. Just good food and a challenge he could actually win.

Well… maybe.

Feeling generous, you slowed just a little as you finished the last of your cherry pie, letting Dean take the lead. He shoved the last bite into his mouth, raising his arms in victory before he even swallowed.

"AND THE WINNER IS - DEAN WINCHESTER!" the announcer declared, and the crowd clapped and laughed at the spectacle you both had made of yourselves.

Dean swallowed dramatically and slammed his hands on the table. "Hell yes!"

You rolled your eyes, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Aw man. I thought I had it!"

"Better luck next time, princess!" Dean grinned, accepting the $50 gift card like it was a championship belt.

As the crowd began to disperse and the contestants stood from their chairs, you stretched, feeling uncomfortably full but satisfied. The fair had been a perfect distraction. You looked out over the fairgrounds, the flashing lights from the rides, the sounds of laughter, the smell of fried food still filling the air.

Dean waltzed over to you and slung an arm around your shoulder to pull you close. "I know where we're going for dinner tonight," he smirked as he admired the card in his hand.

"Don't you want to save it for when you want to leave the bunker?" You asked as you walked off the stage.

"Why would I want to go spend it alone when I could go with my favorite girl right now?" Dean squeezed your shoulder a little bit. Your heart warmed. Sometimes, Dean had a way with words when he actually wanted to be sweet.

"Then I guess we don't have a choice!" You smiled wrapping an arm around his waist. It looked like you both were about to skip together while an old 50's song was playing. You felt like it with how perfect this day was.

[ghostbsuter]

I'm on the writing grind, you can see that I just finished rewatching the Teen Titans (2003).

Edit: Here is some art I did for Titan!Phantom

.・゜-: ✧ :-

(The end is near.)

Gripping the communicator, the bright yellow case with a cartoonish 'T' on top glared back at him.

(The portal was growing.)

He presses the button, the communicator switches on and he calls out.

"Phantom to Titans, do you hear me? Phantom to Titans."

The crackling sound came as a sign of connection, It didn't take any heavy weight off, however.

"Robin here, Phantom? Everything alright?" The soothing voice of Teen Titans leader answers him, and he suppresses a sigh.

"Robin," he bites his lip, the portal only growing.

The ghost zone is eating Amity and all just because fucking Vlad couldn't, for one ancient time, sit still.

"I—" a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he apologises with a wince. "You're gonna be really angry at me when you... find out."

Concern leaks through the voice as Robin speaks. "Phantom? What's going on?"

Thr screen on the communicator switches on and Robins brow knitted expression stares back at him.

It quickly changes, alarmed. "Phantom." The vigilante says. "Is Amity Park okay? Do you need backup?"

Always on the right track, dear leader. Danny shakes his head fondly.

"It's too late for backup," he admits quietly.

"Phan—"

"Just tell new members of me, okay?"

Danny doesn't let the other finish, giving a bitter smile before throwing the communicator on the ground, breaking it.

The familiar yet threatening green of the ghost zone welcomes him.

—

"Titans! Emergency call, Phantom got a situation!"

The bright red lights is enough for the rest of the team to flood to the common room.

"Rob?" Cyborg asks. "What's the situation?"

"We don't know!" The bird answers, stressed. He's pulling the audio and video recording of the call up to the monitor, replaying it for the team.

They don't figure it out until they are at Amity, landing with the jet and jumping from their seats.

Raven and Starfire fly ahead, and they all reach the border of Amity.

Or what of Amity remains.

Because–

The entire city is gone—!!

Complete annihilation.

(When robin finds out who did this, he will have words with them.)

"Robin," Raven waves them all over to her side. She's crouching, hand in a sphere of black, her magic. "Amity wasn't destroyed. It was relocated."

Her expression is grim. "Someone abducted a whole city."

All he does is nod, looking at the team before him.

"Someone call Herald, Titans, we got work to do. Our mission is to find Amity Park, Phantom, and save both." With sombre nods, they prepared for take off.

"Titans! Go!"

And they separate.

[ishgard]

Timeline Outline (Rough) Part 1:

Some of this is likely to change as I shift some of the moving pieces around, but this is the gist of what I have more or less figured out. All things in canon are the same up until Shaaloani. I'm still tuning the finer points pending a DT-replay, but reflecting their budding relationship in this timeline, Alphinaud elects to join Ahru and Erenville to venture to Shaaloani.

After the quest with Namikka, and suggesting she was lightly injured when she was robbed, Alphinaud is squeezed onto the train to accompany her and go on ahead to Yyasulani, anticipating Ahru and Erenville will catch up soon after. Shortly after that, of course, the dome appeared.

In the chaos that ensued, Alphinaud strove and struggled to help and heal the fractured people of the now-distorted land. He exhausted himself to the point of nearly passing out, at which time he espied Zoraal Ja walking among the ruins. Though exhaustion and desperation nearly compelled him to call out, an uncanny sense of dread halted him.

During the chaos he became acquainted with Cahciua as they tried to make sense of all things - something they were soon afforded, at least in part, as Queen of Reason Sphene and King of Resolve Zoraal Ja began to address the people and render aid.

Over the course of the next several months he would continue to exhaust himself rendering aid to the many injured, while also trying to puzzle together what entirely had transpired. He quickly surmised they were somehow dealing with another Reflection, though the precise details eluded him.

Still, he knew there was no world in which Ahru would not come swiftly to his aid, and she should have only been a few days behind him at most… If there were a time distortion similar to that between the First and the Source, however, he could not begin to guess at the differing passage of time he now found himself in.

Time and again he ran into Queen Sphene and the two gained an understanding rapport in their primary efforts to aid others. But she was regretfully resigned to the arrangement she had made with Zoraal Ja, whom she could not go against.

Along with a small group of several others who were ill-at-ease with proceedings, they followed Zoraal Ja to a then still up-and-coming facility in an effort to ascertain the fullness of the King of Resolve's agenda. Upon gleaning the heavily militant leanings of his plans and the atrocities he was willing to go to, the situation swiftly spiraled, and both Alphinaud and two others were captured.

Though he tried to convince Zoraal Ja of not just the error of his aim, but the futility of it, his attempts to dissuade the King of Reason proved just as fruitless. One of the other captives was subjected to the early experiments on feral souls and perished - and the promise of Alphinaud and his other ally being similarly utilized was ensured, but for the remainder of their comrades returning to save them.

In the chaos of conflict and retreat, seven of their remaining nine members perished. Alphinaud was nearly killed himself, instead forced to sacrifice his Carbuncle to cover his retreat from Zoraal Ja.

Thereafter, he and Charoite -the other surviving member- went into hiding with the aid of Cahciua and Oblivion.

For the next several years he kept a low profile between East Yyasulani and Archeo Alexandria, where there was no end of work to be done and need for hands to help. Working covertly alongside Oblivion, he ever kept an eye on the borders, or else for any sign of new arrivals from beyond the Dome.

It was on one of his surveys of the far-reaches of the territory that he came across the fatally wounded Kyanite Daguerre. A hunter whose regulator was overwhelming him with a surfeit of souls before he had actually perished, Alphinaud was shocked at the strange familiarity of the man's face. But not nearly so shocked as he was when Kyanite, not at all in his right mind, attacked him, and with the last of his strength attached his regulator to Alphinaud.

His memories here are a stymied mess. The overload of souls was one thing, but there was a different connection between he and Kyanite, as two born of the same Ancient soul. To his recollection there is naught but pain unlike anything he had ever suffered before or since, one he likens to what he can only imagine as having been sundered. Like being shattered, and then shoving the broken glass shards into the open wound.

And on top of this, a sense of great conflict. His very soul vying for control over his body as Kyanite's unwitting did the same. At last, there was only darkness and the ever-present rumbling of thunder strikes.

For nearly a week he struggled between souls, lost in a deep unconsciousness where memories and identity began to lose all sense of reason. In slivers of consciousness he saw Queen Sphene tending to him, sometimes weeping, and once he heard her call to him: "My brave Kyanite…"

When he came to he was in the Outskirts, being tended to by Cahciua. At once his mind split between recognition and a complete lack thereof. He struggled to make sense of himself and what he knew, helped little by the other kind, well-meaning folks sent to help care for him who only referred to him as 'Kyanite'. Relief flooded him then: 'Yes, I am Kyanite. I survived.' And then great dread: This was not his body.

And then a deeper dread still. 'I am not Kyanite.'

Only when Cahciua came, removed the Regulator from his head, and called him 'Alphinaud' in kind, soothing whispers did he begin ilming forward towards clarity.

On top of his fractured mind, his body had been ravaged by the influx of souls. Similar in some ways to levin sickness, his aetheric channels had been violently disrupted, and sharply aspected towards Lightning. Though not as paralyzing as the advanced forms, his ability to heal -himself let alone others- suffered greatly. His aether would flow normally for a time, only to suddenly seize up and leave him utterly exhausted, sometimes even physically paralyzing him in worse episodes. To this end, he was advised to wield no magicks until he was recovered - if he recovered.

It would be many months of struggling with both his body and mind before some semblance of balance began to assert itself. In the years that followed he felt as if he was being haunted by Kyanite; a soul dying slowly, wanting to fulfill any lingering regrets.

Though he suspected perhaps that Sphene would have preferred for Kyanite to be the one to survive, he took her concern for his well-being to heart, and acted on her suggestion: That he assume the identity of Kyanite Daguerre so that he could move more freely. An anomaly, Kyanite's 'half-death' made memories of him scarce, but not entirely gone.

Though it did little to help mend his mind, so long as he continued to keep to the Outskirts, in a few years time the resemblance between them would have been uncanny enough that any who did remember what scant few details about Kyanite they could would little question the veracity of his identity.

Seemingly at odds with the idea she would have preferred 'Kyanite' over 'Alphinaud', she returned to him the cracked crystal of his carbuncle he had lost so long ago, wishing him well.

And that's where I think I'll stop for now and divvy this into two parts because it's already pretty long for a summary! 😂

Note on Carbuncle Headcanon: I'm not brushed up on actual Arcanima lore enough to know if it's actually Just This Way, but I like to think of Carbuncles as being 'stored' in their crystals and summoned from them. The aetheric properties around the crystal itself can be worked and manipulated to adjust and alter the resulting Carbuncle, but if the crystal is damaged it will either make summoning impossible or otherwise 'injure' and weaken the Carbuncle.

[g00seg1rl]

Together

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: After their spat, Azriel and Eris do their best to salvage the visit.

part 1 on tumblr | everything combined on ao3

part 2, 2.8k words, I hope you enjoy munchkins 😘

Swallowing down as much emotion as he could, Eris kissed him back, opening his lips for Azriel’s warm tongue as if it didn’t just help yell at him.

It was difficult, but he forced his mind, his anger, his guilt to melt into Azriel’s hands and their satiated bond.

Unwelcome reminders of their fight, the salt mingling in their spit and the burning nibbles on his palms resting on either side of Azriel’s face were definitely trying to dampen the mood.

He couldn’t let all of that in yet. Later. Now, he needed to focus on Azriel while he could.

Eris pulled back a slight bit, breathless as he took in Azriel’s hazy expression, looking over his scrunched ebony brows, and heavy-lidded glassy eyes. Eris impulsively squeezed his hands, and Azriel’s reddened lips pouted ridiculously.

“You look cute like this,” Eris praised, squishing Azriel’s cheeks further, smiling at the blushing male beneath him and the lusty butterflies fluttering low in his belly.

“W’th’nk’you,” Azriel replied, scarlet red. Eris snickered.

The moment stretched just a second too long— a second too long undistracted and their gaze turned more somber. Tears teased lower eyelashes once more, but a silent, resolute moment between their amber and hazel eyes where they chose to fight off quivering lips with a deep kiss proved the moment too good to ruin with words.

He tried to focus on how close Azriel was, cataloguing the way all the dense muscles were hugging him tight, the easy give and take of their lips, the intoxicating musky cedar scent and faint, rumbling groans he knew he’d crave.

Azriel’s tongue lapped over Eris’s own. Eris groaned and rolled his hips forward against Azriel’s seated pelvis, Azriel– the copycat– moaned at his movement.

Peculiarly, the shadows didn’t come out to play, but he chose not to ponder if it was anger at him or their Singer. If ignoring them made him ignorant, then an ignorant fool he’d proudly proclaim to be. Nothing else mattered right now.

Nothing but the way Azriel’s hands were slipping beneath the loose, black silky top Eris hadn’t wanted to take off till Azriel saw him in it again. Last night the Shadowsinger had promised to rip the set off his mate, but the delicate removal felt so right.

Azriel’s hands were a bit waxy and cool, and Eris shivered as they inched up his back, bunching and lifting Eris’s shirt as they travelled. Shiveringly up the knobs of his spine, feathering around the curve of Eris’s waist and teasing his fingers on a path Eris knew would lead to the Illyrian steel hoops piercing his nipples.

Eris moved to ritualistically remove Azriel’s leathers; buckle by buckle and knot by knot, he exposed the male’s perfectly sculpted torso. His eyes were closed and mind nearly melted, but the amount of times he replayed their many trysts instilled him with the knowledge to strip his mate bare with an arm tied behind his back and a blindfold robbing his sight. He could probably do it with his teeth.

Sigh. Next time.

Tantalizingly textured thumbs brushed over the small hoops, the lips against his smirking slightly as he tugged at the jewelry. Eris gasped, and Azriel’s tongue, the opportunistic and wet thing, took control of Eris’s mouth.

As if he was going for a purple nurple, Az tweaked his nipples and devoured the high-pitched moan Eris let out.

Eris ground his hips down, tilting forward to brush their throbbing lengths together between the layers of restricting fabric. Shirts were off, chests touching, hips bucking and groans turning starved; he memorized everything, filing it away for darker and lonesome needy moments.

Not many words were spoken, as if both feared the risk of running thoughts toward sad sayings like goodbye and I'll miss you. More than the fear of ruining their scarce times for fun, the words were ingrained in them—it was always willing separation and soul-aching longing, they knew. It felt like a mockery to their closeness to voice how painfully soon it would end.

But the thought, the internal countdown, felt like a tightening vice grip, forcing spiky lumps up Eris’s throat.

“Shh, shh baby, I know,” Azriel cooed thickly, moving a teasing thumb to catch a tear Eris didn’t mean to release.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-” Eris leaned back, tilting his head up, pushing a slow breath through furrowed lips and trying to compose himself. He couldn’t let the longing start before he even left. What a waste these emotions are, Eris cursed inwardly.

Azriel stopped his sensual efforts entirely, Eris wasn’t looking but he could feel a gaze burning into his throat.

Deep, deep breaths. It was all he could do. He felt ridiculous, letting shame and fear pollute their bond.

Azriel pulled him in, their hearts beating against each other once more, his breathing easier in tandem with Azriel’s. He buried his head in the crook of Azriel’s bronze neck, willing the tears to stay down and his cock to stop softening.

He still savored how Azriel felt beneath him but he felt drained. Months of stress he knew was coming prophetically beared down on him, and he tried his best to stew in the comfort of Azriel’s strength for his future self.

This always fucking happened. Frenzied foreplay and physical intimacy right before Eris had to part ways led to stupidly overwhelming feelings. Ugh.

Azriel’s hands wrapped low on Eris’s hips as he rose, lifting him up with a faint groan.

“Such an old male,” Eris teased, crossing his ankles behind the small of Azriel’s back and holding on tight, his fingers threading through Azriel’s soft hair.

Azriel chuckled sweetly, tilting his lips towards Eris’s greedy ear, “I’ve got you right now, it’s okay, I love you, Eris,” he whispered between light kisses against Eris’s shoulder as he carried him up the staircase leading to their bedchamber. “Even though you bully me,” he admitted, coaxing Eris’s frown to dissipate.

Azriel’s promises and gulps of his misty cedar scent kept Eris in gentle tact as he was taken down the short corridor. He felt so secure, so safe; he sent a shiver of appreciation down the bond. Wide wings trembled in response, reminding Eris of his hounds’ wagging tails when he praised them.

He felt somewhat lighter now that the legs hefting him weren’t his own, and due to the new moments he had to remember over the others from today.

A small click and creak cued their entrance into the solacing room. Azriel’s strides were even as he crossed the walnut flooring to lay them down on the spacious, scarlet linenned mattress in the center of the broad room.

The master bedroom made up the top floor of the two-level cabin, all dark stained wood and ruby toned accents led to the expansive limestone tiled bathroom, and a deep clawfoot tub with all the oils and lotions one could possibly need. Eris spent hours last night nestled against Azriel’s chest, soaking in lavender scented bubbled water.

A similarly nestling position was assumed as Azriel flipped Eris smoothly in his hold and rested them both down on their left sides. Eris scooched his hips back, lining himself up flush against Azriel’s front.

A strong forearm curled around his hip, fingers playing with the ticklish path of copper hairs leading towards the waistband of his flowy lounge pants. Azriel’s thumb rested right above his navel, smoothing back and forth, calming.

This was good. They needed this.

Eris smiled slightly, sadly, sweetly against Azriel’s pillowing bicep. Azriel’s forehead rested against the back of Eris’s head, his warm breath sending frequent predictable–what had to be purposely caused– shivers up his spine. If they only had two hours of this for the foreseeable future then he’d make it work, not that he had a choice. Eris’s thoughts darkened a smidge but the combination of savoring and stoicism let him move with the blessings and troubles of life with the thoughts and lovely memories he collected when he could. It wasn’t ideal but it was enough. It had to be.

Time passed as he listened to their heart beats flirt and memorized the notes of their combined scent.

Eris turned to face Azriel. The tears were gone and replaced by salty tracks, reddened eyes and a more serene expression he assumed mirrored his own greeted him. Azriel’s hands moved with him, cradling him as close as he could with a smile playing at his lips.

Eris reached a hand up towards his bronze cheek, all evidence of their fight gone, no more stinging print or angry eyes. He thanked Illyrian hyper-healing for easing his guilt while blaming them for giving him such a miraculous break. Eris didn’t feel deserving of absolution. The hopes were dialectical but wasn’t everything multifaceted? Or was he just overcomplicating things for himself? Overthinking and self deprecating had always been his strong suits, but this was getting bothersome. He needed to act while he had an iota of freedom, before he returned to Autumn and regretted not using this opportunity to milk every moment.

“I’ll miss you, my gorgeous Star, so much.” Eris felt like making it known, now that the sharpness of the threat of breaking down seemed dulled, now that the impulses felt like chances taken.

“I’ll miss you more,” Azriel lifted one of Eris hands, knuckles against kissing, smiling lips. “I’m sorry for trying to pass off my failure. Not your fault you’re so damn perfect.”

“We’ll still have the journals, my love, it’ll be alright,” Eris noted, a playful urge led him to add, “after today we owe each other pages of devoted letters post each entry.”

“Hm, as always, you’re right,” Azriel, seemed pacified by the coping thought as Eris was convincing himself to be. “C’mere,” Azriel placed Eris’s hands around his neck and started kissing him as if time was as still as it felt.

Their lips touched and the scene faded, pinpointing on where they joined. Each detachment felt like a robbery; every meeting, a refueling.

Eris’s hips gyrated of their own accord, tilting in small circles with the aid of Azriel’s hands. He moved his hands up Azriel’s nape to play in his hair.

Moans muffled, sheets rustled, faculties confuddled, and nails grappled muscled shoulders as they lost and found themselves in each other’s mouths. The kisses were, searching, yearning, savoring, everything he needed.

Azriel’s hands tightened on his hips, stinging enough to pull back from Azriel’s lips, perplexed for a blissful second till he noticed a shade creeped around the round edge of Azriel’s ears, doubtlessly whispering some sort of intel that was making Az grimace.

“An hour before you should leave,” Azriel warned, voice thick.

Eris just nodded, looking down to Az’s dusky lips as he considered how to spend the last of the visit. As always, looking at Azriel’s lips uninterrupted spawned a heady pool to form low in his belly. They fought, cried, held, and smiled today, it was time to take what he could of Azriel’s body while he could. Mother approved objectification if it was with one’s mate, Eris was sure.

An hour was enough. They could probably come in a few minutes, though he was aiming for more, but he wouldn’t complain if they did. (He absolutely would but he’d do it in a future journal entry).

“Let’s spend it right,” Eris huskily decreed, leaning in to reclaim Azriel’s lips until his lungs protested.

Breathless and leering, Eris pulled back and brushed his thumb over Azriel’s lower lip. Az opened and let Eris pet his tongue wordlessly. He spread the wet pad of his thumb down Az’s strong jaw, down his throat and clavicle. The saliva ran out around his second ab muscle, so Eris took over with his own tongue, nudging Az onto his back as he straddled his legs.

“Fuck,” his mate eloquently exclaimed. Eris smirked, disheveling the Shadowsinger was unparalleled fun.

He grabbed onto the waist’s edge of Az’s trousers that were rudely still being worn. Rearing his head back, pulling the fabric past the defined V of Az’s pelvis and tugging them down to sit high on his bronze thighs, exposing the soft gray cotton of Azriel’s boxers which were quickly torn south, and out-popped the behemoth that was Az’s cock.

With a victorious grin, he sucked the tip of Azriel’s fat dick past his lips, raking his nails up Az’s torso.

Flattening his tongue on the base of Az’s dick and licking down pulsing veins, he bobbed his head up and down Az’s slick shaft with perfected technique, twisting his head every time just he reached the tip and swallowing loudly as he nearly suffocated around the base.

“Haaah, shit, good- really good,” Az groaned, and Eris knew he was better than really good but he’d let it go since Az’s brain was hopefully mush.

“Fuck, fuck, oh Cauldron’s tits,” Az swore, voice laughably warbled as Eris gagged trying to keep Az’s cock as deep in his throat as he could, which was a considerable depth, the taming of his gag reflex was a messy but worthy process.

He had to remind himself he was just slicking Az’s dick and lifted his head after one last slobbering swallow, moving to straddle Az’s hips.

“Open your eyes, watch me,” Eris ordered, having noticed Azriel’s eyes clenched shut. His hands stabilizing on Azriel’s lower abdomen, long and fair fingers contracting, memorizing against the deep caramel, readying to help balance Eris as he tackled the wild beast that was Az’s cock.

Az nodded shallowly, his chest expanding wide with dramatic, bracing breaths. His large hands reached down to hold Eris’s hips. Eris dimmed his focus to the faint burn of Az’s tip breaching his rim. He lowered his hips slowly, sinking down and savoring each inch.

The unhurried drag of his sensitive walls around his mate’s throbbing length was dizzying. As he slid to completely sit, a ragged groan broke out of both of them, vaguely resembling pet names, nearly identical to a frightened hyena.

“Haa fuck, Azriel, so goddamn big, so good,” Eris keened, his back arched and hips shifting in circles, stewing Az’s cock in his heat, which he turned all the way up.

Ready to rise without instantly coming, Eris dug his knees into the bed, raising his body and moaning at the friction of Az moving within him. Opposed to separating completely, he only lifted halfway to the tip before plonking down.

“Oh Autumn, not gonna last, so perfect and tight, too good, gonna come, baby, fuuuuck,” Azriel cried out, his shadows cushioning where his wings lay on the bed but not enough, from Az’s writhing the tantalizing silk’s torment was evident.

“Go- go ahead, come for me, say my name,” Eris moaned, not far behind.

Az’s hands dug into Eris’s hips, holding him in place and bucking Eris forward as he planted his feet onto the mattress.

“With me, sweetheart, come with me,” Az pleaded rhetorically as he bounced Eris on his cock. As if Eris could resist.

“Ohhh Azriel!” Eris wailed, his hands flying to cling onto Azriel’s shoulders as he was jostled.

“Fuuuuck yes, baby, like that, so tight,” Az panted, arms working Eris to completion.

“AAAAHHH AZZZZ!” Eris screamed, quaking as his vision whited and hot sin flooded his nerves.

“ERIIIIS!” Az planted himself deep inside Eris’s body, spilling his seed as he shouted his mate’s name.

Eris fell flat and boneless against Azriel’s chest with a contented sigh. Fuzzy forearms tickled up his sides and wrapped him tightly into an embrace.

Sharing space, smiles and breath for who knew how long, Eris hadn’t felt more relaxed in ages and knew he wouldn’t for a long while so he marinated in the love offered and reciprocated as much he could.

“Next time let’s just do this,” Az murmured. Apparently the bat forgot he was the one who wasted time, but nonetheless Eris concurred.

“Mmhm, no Rhys,” Eris agreed.

After spending a large portion of the remainder of the visit melted on top of his mate, Eris took advantage of the standing shower overhead the tub and cleaned himself under Azriel’s watchful, loving gaze. Everything felt too fast. Eris pouted as he used his Autumnal heating capabilities to dry.

Azriel kept a small distance, leaning against the door of their bedroom, watching Eris dress with procrastinatory slowness. The same ease applied to the final, long kiss before Eris winnowed to his suite in the Forest House. Notably, not home. Away from Az, nothing really felt like home, Eris thought dejectedly.

He tucked Azriel’s newest journal in his nightstand, waiting for the first opportunity to devour its contents, aiming for new insights and ammunition for teasing.

With a smirk, Eris made his way to dinner with the sweet taste of Azriel on his tongue, already counting down the days till the next time he’d see his precious bat.

Thank you for reading, I hope you liiiiked it 🤭

Thank you so so much @the-darkestminds for beta reading and holding my hand throughout all of this lol 😘 and thank you thank you @jules-writes-stories for lovely headpats and feedback 😘

Azris boo thangs, fluffy and smutty things comin 😈 @nus4y @astro-h0e-4azris @mistandmemories @chunkypossum @mudandmire @molcat07 @3xolara @irithiadourden @sunstar-drabbles @iftheshoef1tz @makinglongwordsslutty @pippsmcgee @neciebee @talibunny30 @wovendreamscapes @missblackstar @fourteentrout @brunetterebel010 mwah mwah mwah my geese 💗 (pls let me know if you want on/off my azris tag!)

[somethingvicked]

Forget me not pt 2

An Eddie Munson story.

warnings: female reader, memory loss, talks of injury, angst.

Y/N’s mother brought Eddie out into the corridor. “This is why I didn’t want any of you to visit her yet, Eddie. The doctor’s told me that it’s very common to have memory loss when you’ve gone through that kind of head injury, but that it usually is temporary. If there was a possibility of her regaining the memory without having to go through another trauma – meeting people she doesn’t remember that clearly remember her – I wanted to spare her that.”

Eddie nodded, understanding. When Y/N’s mom told him that it could be temporarily he felt a flicker of hope.

“So, there’s a chance she will be okay, maybe tomorrow or so?”

Y/N’s mom smiled. “Maybe. We can only hope. If she does, I will let you all know. But now I must ask you to let her rest.”

As Eddie walked out of the hospital, his own memory replayed the moment when Y/N looked at him as if he was a stranger – because that was what he was to her now –  he ran into Gareth.

“What the hell, man,” Gareth said, stomping up to Eddie. “How could you not call us and let us know Y/N’s been in accident? She’s our friend too!”

Eddie rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry, dude. It’s all been so…” he couldn’t finish the sentence.

Gareth’s face softened. “Is she okay?”

“She… she punctured a lung and broke some ribs but it’s… they say she’ll be okay eventually.”

“That’s a relief,” Gareth exhaled and then frowned. “Then why do you look so… “

Eddie looked away. “Her mom hasn’t told anyone yet, because there’s a big chance it’ll go away, but…” he swallowed ,”she… Y/N doesn’t remember me. I visited her and she… there was no recollection. She didn’t know who I was.”

Gareth’s eyes widened. “Damn!” he cursed. “Shit man, I’m so sorry. She doesn’t remember you… and you’re her best friend!”

Eddie felt tears burn behind his eyelids. Gareth patted his shoulder and led him toward his van, telling him that he shouldn’t drive being this upset.

Eddie couldn’t compel himself to tell Gareth the whole truth about why he was so troubled. The last conversation he’d had with Y/N, what he had told her:

“I wish you could forget you’re in love with me too, Y/N. I wish we could forget about this whole conversation! It’s ruined everything.”

 Just remembering those words made him feel like someone had punctured his lung too.

The next day Y/N’s mother called and asked for them all to meet her in the hospital cafeteria. She didn’t want to be away from Y/N too long, so that was the best place.

Eddie felt cold dread creep down his spine when Y/N’s mom explained to the others about Y/N’s memory loss, but that they weren’t certain how far it went.

Y/N had recognized her parents without a beat but she had no memory of the accident or the hours before that.

“When the doctors asked her what the last thing she remembered clearly was she told them that it was coming home from school and practicing the violin,” Y/N’s mom said, and Eddie gasped.

“But… she quit playing the violin years ago!” Before they became friends.

“Exactly,” Y/N’s mom nodded. “But we have to be patient. The doctors tell me that when she’s well enough to go home, to the house she grew up in and with her own room, surrounded by the things she’s seen daily it will probably help. And until then, I need to ask you not to visit her. She’s got enough on her plate.”

Eddie swallowed, looking down into his lap.

“When… do they know when she will be able to go home?” Robin wondered.

“They’re going to do some more tests and another MRI on her brain – just to make sure there isn’t some small bleeding that they missed which will cause trouble. If there’s not she will probably be able to go home at the end of the week.”

There was nothing to do but wait. At the end of the week Y/N was allowed to go home, and her mom let the gang know that she recognized her room. A happy surprise was that she also recognized Robin from a photo, so Robin was allowed to visit her and talk to her.

Robin told the rest of them that Y/N seemed to have grasped that she wasn’t thirteen anymore, and that she also seemed to remember some songs and movies she had seen and listened to after middle school, even though she didn’t remember the moment she had experienced them.

Y/N’s memory was jumbled but she was making progress.

In all this time, Eddie didn’t spend any time with Chrissy, not even in school. Somehow, it felt like a betrayal to Y/N. Even though Y/N didn’t even remember he existed.

Chrissy was patient at first, but when  two weeks had come and gone she took Eddie aside to talk to him.

“I understand you’re upset about Y/N. But… there’s nothing you can do for now. I know she’s your best friend, but I’m your girlfriend. If you can’t even spend time with her because she doesn’t know who you are, what is stopping you from spending time with me? Not even talking to me?”

Eddie became furious with her and accused her of being insensitive. When he barked that Y/N was the most important person in his life, and how did Chrissy think it felt when that person didn’t even remember you? – Chrissy shook her head and walked away.

Eddie deducted that this was most likely the end of them but he couldn’t bother to care. The fact that he had called Y/N the ‘most important’ person in his life didn’t slip by him. Or that Chrissy had said exactly the same thing that he had told Y/N that day.

Now he knew that Y/N was in fact the most important person in his life and he felt guilty as hell for how he had treated her. A flirt with a popular girl had made him forget her.

And now he’d gotten his karma. Y/N had forgotten him. Completely.

Another week passed and Y/N’s recovery went well. From photos she had been reacquainted with more of her friends, and her mom had told Steve and Eddie they were welcome to visit, to see how she would react, if she remembered them. 

Steve still seemed angry at Eddie, but he didn’t bring it up at least, and Eddie was grateful for that. He hoped that Y/N would remember something, anything about him and their friendship.

As they were let inside Y/N’s room, they saw she was sitting by her desk, looking through some photos.

She raised her gaze and smiled politely at them. “Hi,” she said and Eddie and Steve greeted her.

Steve sat down on Y/N’s bed and Eddie sat down beside Y/N but made sure to give her space.

“You are… Steve, right?” Y/N said, pointing at Steve and Steve nodded excitedly.

“Yes, that’s right. You remember me?”

Y/N brought up a photo of him and her from a pool party. “A little,” she told him. “But it kind of clashes… I remember you in school… being… well, quite a jerk,” she admitted with blushing cheeks and Eddie snickered, “but I also remember you being really nice, and something about… ‘always being the babysitter’?”

Now Steve laughed and nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. In high school I was quite a jerk but… I grew up quickly the last year and after I graduated – and not getting into college. Made me realize that peeking in high school was not something to be proud of.”

Now Y/N laughed too and Eddie couldn’t help but feel left out.

Then Y/N’s eyes widened. “Wait… I remember now. You were called… King Steve!”

Steve groaned and rubbed his neck. “Damn. I really hoped you wouldn’t remember that!”

Y/N laughed again and even though it was nice to see her laugh, Eddie looked down into his lap, almost regretting that he had come. But that wasn’t right. Y/N couldn’t control what she remembered.

Now she turned toward him, and tilted her head. “I remember you from the hospital,” she told him and then looked through some photos, finding one of Eddie and her with the Hellfire group. And another of him and her, at the Hideout, Eddie, sweating after a performance and Y/N looking so proud.

Then another, from a Halloween party… there were so many of them, Eddie realized. Even though they hadn’t gotten to know each other until junior high, there was practically a whole lifetime’s worth of photos of them.

And it all came back to him, things he had all but forgotten, getting lost in Chrissy. He had never been more ashamed of himself.

“Were… were we a couple?” Y/N wondered when she came upon one where they hugged in front of a Christmas tree in her living room.

“No,” Steve replied, before Eddie could answer and Eddie glared at him. “No, but Eddie was… is, your best friend.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, and the way she said it, like she wasn’t disappointed at all that they hadn’t been a couple… it felt like someone had drove an ice pick into Eddie’s heart and the cracks spread by the second.

“You don’t… you don’t remember any of this?” he wondered carefully, not wanting to stress Y/N.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, looking frustrated. “No, I’m sorry. When I look at Steve, I remember bits and pieces. It’s like a puzzle – pieces fits together but it’s not a complete image. But with you… I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember anything, except from when you came to visit me in the hospital.”

She looked really apologetic for that and Eddie felt even worse because now he had made her feel bad.

“It doesn’t matter. Take your time,” he assured her.

They didn’t stay long after that. Y/N got tired rather quickly and her mother shooed them out, saying she needed to rest.

Eddie expected that Steve would say something like ‘serves you right’ when they left but he didn’t. Not even Steve seemed to want to kick Eddie when he was already broken.

And it just continued. Y/N kept making progress with the others. She remembered funny moments hanging out with the kids, teasing Dustin, helping Max and El with clothes and make up, supporting Lucas about basketball, talking to Nancy and Jonathan about the school paper, even cheering for when Hopper and Joyce finally got together.

But she still didn’t remember anything about Eddie. He tried to help her remember, with photos of his own, tapes they had switched, playing his guitar for her…

He refused to give up, even though he felt more and more and despair from the lost look in Y/N’s eyes.

And each and every time he tried to help her remember, he had to remember. How much they had meant to each other, what Y/N had meant to him.

And how he had thrown all that away for Chrissy. A girl he couldn’t even imagine a future with.

He was living with the constant regret of it, practically crying himself to sleep every night.

One day Steve took him aside, looking worried. “Look, man… I understand what you’re doing. But maybe you should stop.”

“Stop what?” Eddie wondered.

“With Y/N. I see how hard you try, but… there’s a possibility she might never remember you, have you thought of that?”

Eddie swallowed. “That… no, that can’t be…”

“It’s possible,” Steve continued, “there are people that has had memory loss that never regain every detail of their life. And… while I think what you did to her was shitty, I’m worried about you. This… it’s not healthy for you or her. Maybe… maybe you should just accept what it is and move on.”

“I can’t do that!” Eddie gasped. “I can’t! She...”

“Eddie… you were ready to cut her out of your life just a couple of weeks ago – for Chrissy. And now… she doesn’t even remember you doing that. I understand you feel guilty, but…”

“You think I’m doing it because I’m feeling guilty?” Eddie hissed. “Well, I do! But it’s not that… I… even before she crashed into that tree… I tried to imagine a life without her and… I couldn’t,” he admitted, wiping his eyes.

Steve was quiet for a while. “Maybe… maybe she doesn’t want to remember you.”

Eddie gasped, staring at Steve. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve said, rubbing his forehead. “Maybe… her subconscious is trying to protect her from a painful memory – what happened between you two.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and his mouth turned into a small O.

“But… what do I do then? Should I bring it up… what happened?”

“Not sure,” Steve said. “I don’t have any answers, Eddie. Is there something you haven’t tried? Something that might give her a push to remember?”

Eddie honestly wasn’t sure. He felt like he had tried everything possible and then some.

One thing he had noticed, was that Y/N had become more at ease with him. She didn’t shy away any more, even though he was respectful of her space and never touched her like he used to do before; putting his arm around her, or throwing her over his shoulder and carry her somewhere, or had tickle fights with her.

That, too, made him realize how much she meant to him and how much he now missed touching her like he used to.

But despite the fact that Y/N didn’t remember their shared past she seemed to have taken a liking to him anew.

Her face lit up when he came over and she was interested in hearing him talk about his day, his life or something that had happened. It felt strange to tell details of his life to the one that used to know him about as well as he knew himself, but he did so without complaint because it seemed to fascinate her.

But he missed the old Y/N, he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t. This… this was just a shell of the girl he used to know.

And as the days passed, turned into weeks he was starting to fear that he would never get her back.

But he wouldn’t give up on her. Or leave her. He would never do that again. If this was some kind of karmic punishment for what he had done to her… consider him chastised.

He would only leave if Y/N herself told him to.

The next day Y/N called him, asking if he could come over. “I have a favor to ask you,” she said, “I can’t ask anyone else.”

Eddie got excited, wondering what it could be and immediately drove over to her place.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he wondered and she smiled, blushing at the nickname. Even though he missed the old Y/N he had to admit it was a delight to see her blushing at the old nickname.

“I… I wonder if you could drive me to the scene of the accident,” she said, looking into his eyes. “My mom doesn’t want me to see it, but… I think it might help.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if it was a good idea – not to mention that going behind the back of Y/N’s mother scared him a little bit; she had become something of a mother bear since the accident, not that he blamed her.

But of course he couldn’t say no to Y/N. So they got into his van and drove there.

The car wreck had been towed of course, but some of the glass was left, glittering in the sun. There were two deep dents in the bark of the tree she had collided with, but other than that the tree seemed to have gotten out more unscathed than Y/N and the car.

Y/N was quiet, going up to the tree, the glass cracking beneath her shoes. She put her hand on the dents, as if she was waiting for the tree to start whispering secrets to her.

Then she frowned, bending down. Eddie looked down and his eyes widened.

Beside the tree there was a single blue little blossom. It had dried, but it wasn’t withered. He squatted beside Y/N picking it up.

It was one of the few flowers he recognized – Forget-me-nots.

He smiled and gave it to Y/N. “Almost seem like a sign, don’t you think?” he wondered but when Y/N suddenly clutched her head he immediately got worried. “Sweetheart?”

Y/N didn’t reply for a few seconds, but when she looked up… there was something new in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Eddie?” she questioned and… he could see it. The recognition.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice trembling.

“I remember now,” she said, her voice devoid of emotions, and Eddie got cold all over. Because if she remembered, then she also…

“I remember everything.”

taglist: @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @animechick555 @h-ness1944 @eddie-is-a-god

@megatronmunson @melodymunson @rainybloo28

@daisy-munson @bartkevicius03 @stylesxmunson @ziggeddie @ali-in-w0nderland @up-l4te-4t-n1ght @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @duncanhillscoffeecups

[yandere-wishes]

⋆ Anomaly ⋆

❤Summary: Reader is an anomaly. A noblewoman of foreign descent. She doesn't belong here. But oh how she wishes to burn the world down just like William.

❤Author's note: A little something for Ana (@yandere-romanticaa) I hope you enjoy it!!

❤Warnings: Reader is traumatized, Yandere behavior, killing and blood, cryptic. I swear I know how math works…I've just been slaking this summer.

There are equations written over your skin. Complex formulas he's yet to solve. Exponents and variables freckle your body, scattered shards that try to tell him something, whispering the world's secrets every time he kisses your hand. You are an anomaly he thinks. Face full of cracks where the stars seep through. You're a mistake in the universe. A perfect doll misplaced. You are something, William is almost sure of it.

At heart, William is and always will be a mathematician. It just so happens that crime and math follow the same principles. Both require diligence and practice. Carefully throughout plans of how one must approach such a conundrum. One may call it a formula or a modus operandi or anything else as jejune. But in the end, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.

And yet to Moriarty, you are an equation that refuses to be solved. An enigma he's desperately sought to unravel since your first meeting.

William notices something odd as you stroll down an exquisite exemplar of the golden ratio. Something the lord of crime can't fully place. You're akin to a puzzle missing far too many pieces to properly depict its picture. Maybe it's the setting he ponders as he watches you take careful steps in heeled shoes. Maybe it's the music from the ballroom or the meaningless prattle of the aristocrats that robs your form of all logic. Something is amiss with you and he's frantic to find out what it is.

William introduces himself when you reach the bottom of the staircase. He's never been one to show primary interest in the ladies. Rather he waits in the faint glow of the moonlight until someone approces him. Maybe it's the need to distinguish himself from the other aristocrats, maybe it's the repulsion for their customs and manners that refrains him from ever commencing idle chatter. Yet with you, a girl he's never met before, he finds it fitting to say hello first. To talk, about nothing and everything in the same breath. He mentions his admiration for the staircase in passing. Never expecting you to latch on to the words and morph them into the divine proportion. "My father was a mathematical enthusiast, he's passed that on to me as well." Your words slip into his veins like a narcotic, like the melody of an ancient tune lost to time.

William smiles, easy and bright like the melting rays of the desert sun. "Quite the coincidence, I'm a mathematics professor at Durham University". There's a giggle that bleeds from your rose-tainted lips. Reverberating in the chambers of his heart. "A toast then" you propose "to the lethal magnificence of calculation"

You click your champagne glass against his, as something feral festers within the young nobleman.

It's only days later when he's replaying that night in his head as he sips his afternoon tea. That he realizes your champagne glass was empty that whole time. How strange he pondered, wondering if he'd even seen you touch a single intoxicant all evening.

Four days and three sleepless nights later William finds himself tracing the letters of your name with tender adoration. As if he's engraving prayers upon his bones. He needs to see you again as desperately as he needs to breathe. The letter he writes is aloof, meticulous. Prying on your curiosity, hoping you'll take the bait. One miserable day later Louis delivers a letter bathed in your fragrance. Informing the lord Moriarty of your acceptance of his invitation for tea. William folds the letter with the leniency of a biologist regulating their slides. Tucking it away within his breast pocket.

You wear red when you oblige his invitation. An odd red, one that breaks his perception of the color. It's too vibrant yet too opaque. He's beginning to wonder if everything about you is an irregularity. When he ushers the conversation to your garment you merely laugh and brush it off as having belonged to your mother. There's something wrong with that reply as if the universe weeps at your every word. William watches astonished as if he's been told a secret lost to time.

It becomes a habit, an obsession, an addiction really. Tea thrice a week with the woman who plagues his dreams. He lets his cover slip between sips of tea. Permitting you glances into his dark affairs. There's a moment that breaks the norm. A bizarre instance when you ask him to spare no detail in recounting how a poor tormented man murdered the marquess that raped his wife. William stops the proclean cup mere millimeters from his lips. His voice dies in his throat as his mind races to find an appropriate way to tell a lady such a bloody tale. For a second reality slips away.

Reality has a tendency to slip away unnoticed when he's with you.

You weave William tales of foreign lands that sound like they belong in children's fairytales. You tell him about heroes who've done the impossible and kings whose hearts are as pure as the summer skies.

Something about you reverberates in his subconscious. Oh, how he wishes to engulf you, to pick apart your flesh revealing all those dainty secrets you keep in your pretty little chest.

He asks how you know of such utopic lands. You smile. "Because I once lived there"

One day, as Louis serves black tea with rose petals, you bring up a rather peculiar request. "Permit me to assist you in your quest for equality lord Moriarty." William's beginning to believe he's going mad when he hears you. Albit it may as well be expected. Any sane noble lady would have run away many times over. Yet you remain. Forever poised in your adorned seat. Now more than ever William wishes he knew what you truly are. "I want to help you", you plead. "Allow me to aid you in burning this world down and starting anew". He shouldn't have accepted, he shouldn't have nobbed. He shouldn't have left his seat to trace the side of your face with more love than he knew he possessed.

Sometimes, William wonders if something is haunting you, an apparition nesting within the depths of your heart. He ponders what could drive a brilliant mind such as yours to crave the blood of the rich. You once told him about a heritage disrespected. A legacy buried under sand and water lilies. He's yet to find the true meaning behind those words. Does that make you a threat or an ally? Can either be exalted to a lover?

Moriarty promises you the world. Promise you revenge. He's not sure if he too will burn away in your vendetta. Yet he's willing to take the risk if he can hold you close after every murder case.

"I've tried to kick the habit of strolling around the cemeteries at night. Yet I must admit I rather enjoy this." William smiles at your twisted words as he leads the way. If everything has goes as planned -which is most often the case- then the two of you should be prepared for quite the spectacle. A certain Count - who had shown more interest in you than Moriarty could permit- would be getting knifed by his butler whose life he had ruined. A whole new meaning to the term 'the butler did it'. Quite comedic from William's perspective.

You lean on a withering oak tree, hidden by London's thick fog. William stands by your side, the personification of a grim reaper. You watch the play begin, the cobblestone stage illuminated by the blood-red moon. The confrontation, the knife being thrust into the rich vermin's heart. Again and Again and Again. The butler screams into the bloodstained night. His words quelled by his sobs and screams of agony from his dying tormentor. You only catch half of his reasoning, half of his allegations. And yet that is more than enough to comprehend his motive. You sympathize with the poor man, one whose scars mirror your own.

William's scarlet gaze befalls you, as the performance nears its end.

You pick at your nails in a manner that William finds a little too adorable.

You are an anomaly masquerading as a human. Depression lays heavy over your bones as stardust gathers in the corners of your eyes.

You pray to the creator of the moon, pray for a place long since destroyed.

"I've yet to find someone who truly understands me," you say as the two of you begin the journey back to the Moriarty estate.

"Then we share the same burden, my lady," William says, stopping in his tracks.

He lays a firm hand on your shoulder pulling you backwards into his embrace. Somewhere in the distance, three crows consecrate you with their blessings. Willian's hands rest heavy on your sides. He holds you like a little boy holds his father's arithmatic books. Full of care, full of wonder. "What are you" he whispers into your ear. Leaving a playfully hard bite to the shell. His lips trace yours like one traces a treasure map. Trying to unearth all the riches of the world. "My anomaly" he mutters before he finally commits.

When Moriarty kisses you the whole world melts away.

There's an intriguing lightheadedness that follows. As if the stars themselves have exploded within you. You wonder if basking in his presence will mend your tattered heart.

"My precious little anomaly"

Tag list: @elvyshiarieko @himerurun @latolover @aru-nightmare @guidingstarsstuff @myfancollections