#i wanted to write a letter about feeling down because ive been feeling down so it might be a lil bit projection on my part

[lure-of-writing]

Done

Summary: you are done with the way Cassian treats you

word count: 2k

There you were yet again. Alone. Cassian had been doing this a lot recently. Avoiding you that is. It never used to be like this. In the past you couldn’t get him to leave you alone, he was obsessed with you. That was until your work took you to the continent for almost a year. Nine months if you were to be exact. Sure being away from the people you loved wasn’t the best situation to be in but yet you didn’t let that stop you. Often after a long day of playing in the world of politics you would return to your room to write each person of the inner circle a letter. Cassians was always the first to be written and sent out. The rest followed soon after. Since you physically could not be the night court you tried to find ways to remind those you loved that you did in fact love and miss them dearly. Oftentimes sending little items that reminded you of them. Hand made emblem for Rhys to stamp his papers with, beautiful paints that weren’t available in the night court for Feyre. So on and so forth. 

At first everything was fine but the more time you spent on the continent the less you heard from Cassian. The first thought that crossed your mind at the lack of communication from Cass was that Rhys put him to work. Giving him something to focus on other than your lack of presence. With a quick letter to the high lord you quickly found out that was not the case. He in fact was not currently tending to anything other than his recurring requirement to his court. This was strange. 

Something you had learned in your time with Cassian was that sometimes you just simply did not have enough energy to deal with another person, let alone have a conversation with them. So you slowed down the letters you were sending but never failing to remind him that you loved him and couldn’t wait to be home once more and if you were able to visit then you would. Sometimes he would acknowledge the letters you sent, sometimes he wouldn’t. If he sent a letter to you he would oftentimes  disregard what you said about missing him, simply brushing past what you said as if it held no significance. This didn’t happen right away of course, no, it was a slow and minute thing that happened over time. When he first stoped sharing your feeling of longing and want to be with the other person you didn’t mind, figuring that he was enjoying some time alone without you but by month six you were concerned, exhausted, sad and overall hurt and frustrated. This lead you to calling him out on his actions in your next letter. “What is going on? We barley talk, when I offer to come visit you say no, when I ask for you to come here instead you say no. Ive tried just about everything to see you but yet you never do the same for me. I find it quite ironic how every time I think I will have enough time to return home you suddenly are very busy, but yet when I ask Rhysand if that is the case it isn’t. You never have enough time in your days for me but you always have more then enough time to spend with your friends. You will pick literally anything and anyone else over me. Why is that? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not good enough? If you don’t feel the same or want to be in this relationship then please let me know because I can’t do this.” 

Cassian obviously talked you down from the ledge of a breakup reassuring you that he did in fact love you; he was just busy with everything happening within the inner circle especially since he was the peacekeeper between Rhysand and Nesta. Bregurgenly you accepted his answer not without reminding him that what he did was not ok and he needed to change his behavior. Immediately he agreed stating that he saw how it was a problem and needed to do better. 

But better never came. Three months had passed since that argument and almost a month more had passed since you returned home. It was mind blowing how even upon your return back to the night court Cassian never came to see you. Not once. Once again something or someone else always needed him more. With a defeated heart and building anger you accepted each of his excuses in hope that he would one day return the effort you were putting in the relationship. That day never came. Rhysand wanted to see you after your long excursion across the ocean and to a foreign land. He also needed a report from you in full but that was neither here or there. Once at the river house Rhys greeted you with a big smile and open arms, inviting you into a very much needed hug. “How are you my friend?” the question was asked as your high lord led you to his office “I’ve been better but you know how that goes.” Rhysand frowns at your answer “Continue on. What do you mean by that?” sighing you deflate in the chair across from him. “It’s Cassian. I asked him when we could see each other and he said he was busy this weekend and last but I know he was just here. I can smell him. If he was just here, why couldn’t he have stayed and finally acknowledged my existence for the first time since I’ve gotten home?” Rhys simply nodded his head in understanding sensing you had more you needed to get off of your chest. He was right about that. “And then when I asked about seeing him this weekend he said he was busy celebrating the new Valkyries. Like seriously? C’mon. You can’t spare five minutes of your day to say hi, how are you?” 

“I see why you have been better.” with another heavy sigh you nod while closing your eyes to stop the burning sensation of oncoming tears from succeeding in their mission. “Not even that but he doesn’t even talk to me anymore. I will try and try and try but it's like he couldn’t be less interested in what I have to say. If I don’t say anything first we would never talk. Gods, we don’t talk. Actually now that I think of it I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that lasted for more then five minutes. That is when he can pencil me into his very busy schedule.” You felt Rhysands observing eyes take note of your completely exhausted appearance. And the drained feeling radiating off of you. It wasn’t from the trip. He knew that much. “Y/n my dear you need to talk to him about this.” the first sigh of your impending breakdown was your wobbling lip being pressed inbetween your teeth and the deep breath you take to stop yourself from crying. It was not successful as tears freely made their way down your cheeks. Rhysand saw it then. You were not angry, or frustrated you were simply done being treated this way. You knew what you needed to do but your heart hadn’t let you. “I have talked to him about this. All I do is talk and talk and talk.” A broken laugh makes it way out at how completely stupid you feel. “I’m done talking. He has shown me time and time again just how exactly he feels about me. You prioritize the people you love. And I am no longer a priority.” Finally opening your eyes you see those stunning violet eyes staring back. At first it felt like pity but the longer you looked the more you recognized the true emotion displayed. Empathy. Oftentimes you forgot Rhys could look into people's minds but as you felt the gentle nudge in your head asking for permission to see what had been going on you allowed it. A few moments pass as he shuffled through your memories before he finally retreated to his own mind. “Y/n my dear you don’t deserve that. You know this right.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to verbally respond to him so instead you simply nodded your head while trying to hold back the tsunami of tears fighting to be released. “I know.” you whispered 

Getting Cassian to yourself was no easy feat. The first few failed attempts resulted in getting Rhysand involved as much as you hated having to do so. But this conversation was much needed and you knew you would never feel content with your decision unless you were able to talk with the male face to face. There in that exact office where you had cried to your closest friend about your relationship being in shambles is where you now stood in front of Cassian who was silently sitting in the chair in front of you. “We should break up.” That finally got his attention. As soon as Rhysand revealed that the pretend meeting was just a ploy to get him in the same room as you, Cassian had shut down completely. Now he was staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I have tired and tired to get you to care about me and I am done trying. I am tired.” Cassian tried to speak but with the raise of your hand he was quick to close his mouth. “Everything else in your life has taken more priority in your life than me, and I am not saying that I am the most important person in your life because I am not. But I have been begging for you to give me even an ounce of your attention and you can’t even do that so I am done. I am done begging you to allow me in your life, hell to even want me in your life in the first place. I will not continue to beg and plead for you to show me you care because it is quite obvious that you don’t and that you haven’t for a very long time. This is not how you treat someone you love. I would know because I would never do the same to you.” Cassian stood abruptly closing the distance between the two of you causing you to take an equal about of steps back from him. Seeing the hurt flash in his eyes brought you a sense of disbelief. Only when you are about to walk away does he finally show interest in you again. How ironic. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I can do better, I can be better.” His whisper of words are overshadowed by the laugh falling from your lips. “That is what you have been saying for months and yet you never change. Sure you do better for like a week and then everything is back to normal. It's time to face the music, Cassian. This relationship is over. It has been for months. I was the only one putting in effort and you honestly can’t believe that I would continue to stick around when you don’t do the same. Relationships are two-sided and you know that but yet I was all alone.” 

Swiftly you move past him and his outstretched arm. Only stopping once you reach the threshold of the doors. You don’t look back as you speak “I hope you are a better partner for Nesta.” Cassian remains silent as you pull open the door. Rolling your shoulders back you stand tall as you make your way down the hallway lined with Rhysand and Azriel. Finally you had set yourself free from the person who valued you the least. Outside of the River house you took in Velaris one last time. Life on the continent was calling and you couldn’t fathom telling it no. Something in your soul had changed walking out of that room. Something no male could ever take away from you again. Happiness. And for the first time in your life you finally understood what it meant to put yourself first.

[solarswonderland]

dear hanbin

pairing: gn!reader x s.hanbin

wc: 0.5k

genre: fluff, highschool au

warnings: nothing really, just hopeless kids in love

summary: writing a love letter to him

a/n: ive never written anything like this before, I'm actually pretty proud of it. please lmk if it was alright 😓😓

*y.i: your initials

you were always a pen-and-paper person.

you didn't like typing down reminders or to-do lists, you preferred writing them down. there was just something so special about writing to you. probably the way you'd have to shake your pen occasionally because you ran out of ink. or the satisfaction you gain when you scratch out a completed task.

which is probably why you're standing in front of sung hanbin's locker, holding a carefully sealed envelope, decorated with hearts and small stickers you found stuffed deep in your desk drawers.

sung hanbin was truly not real, you thought. there was no way that man was real. he was just too good to be true. the adorable smile, the way he helps everyone around him, how he never got mad, how generous, smart, and nice he is. not to mention, he is incredibly handsome as well. it's no joke, everyone was in love with him. which is one reason you were always too scared to ever confess.

but if there was one thing you were confident in, it was your writing. you figured, since you can't form proper sentences in front of him, why not pen down your thoughts in the form of a letter instead? and that's exactly what you did.

you made sure no one was watching you and slipped the envelope into his locker. you breathed a sigh of relief and made you way to your next class.

after you were gone, hanbin made his way to his locker after basketball practice. he opened it and was startled to see a blue-colored envelope fall out. he grabbed it off the floor and opened it. he thought it might have been mistakenly placed in his locker, but instead was surprised when he read the first two words.

dear hanbin,

it was addressed to him after all. although he was tired and sweaty from practice, he was curious. he continued reading the letter.

dear hanbin,

my heart is racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, there are so many words i've been wanting to say to you for years, and i finally have the chance.

from the moment i met you in middle school, when you lent me your pencil because i forgot mine, i've liked you. who knows, maybe its love?

your smile lights up my darkest days, and you have never once failed to make me laugh. every interaction, no matter how small or big, is etched into my memory, replaying over and over again like a broken record. i've admired your kindness, your intelligence, and the way you effortlessly make everyone around you feel at ease.

i want you to know that my feelings for you have not faded with time, if anything, they've grown stronger.

i understand that this letter might come as a surprise, and let's be honest, life's unpredictable. but i couldn't hold back my feelings any longer than i already have. whether fate leads us down a path of togetherness or friendship, i just needed you to know the truth that has been in my heart for so long.

no matter what your response may be, i'll respect it. no matter where life takes us, know that you'll always hold a special place in my heart.

with love,

y.i ♡

he smiled to himself as he read it. just as he was closing the letter after re-reading it over and over again, he saw some text in the back which made him laugh.

do you like me?

□ yes □ no

no pressure, you don't have to tick anything right now :)

sorry that's kinda creepy isn't it

i should probably stop writing...

he grabbed a pen and ticked the 'yes' option, quietly giggling to himself.

© solarswonderland 2023

[thatgirlwithasquid]

letters that i can never send

words: 25,571

Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending

beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.

so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3

---

Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies

words: 5,739

June 20th, 1986

Dear Chrissy,

I wish I had known you before everything went mad. 

I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.

My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.

They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.

I miss you. 

Tina.

—

The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.

Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.

Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.

She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.

Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing. 

With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets. 

IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.

The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.

Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.

“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”

Tina shakes her head.

“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”

“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”

Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way. 

Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…

And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.

Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.

“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”

What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged. 

So, it’s fine. All this is fine.

When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown. 

Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her. 

Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.

By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.

—

School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.

She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.

There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.

Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…

All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.

So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.

Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.

She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?

Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.

She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.

Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.

Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.

“Jason,” someone whispers.

“Carol,” says another.

“Nicole—”

The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.

Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day. 

She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—

“Tina!”

Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.

It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.

“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”

She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?

“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.

Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.

“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.

The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.

The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.

With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.

A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—

Nothing.

Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.

It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?

—

Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.

Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.

She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.

Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.

She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.

And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…

She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.

She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise—leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.

She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.

With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.

Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.

Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her. 

The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.

She wishes she believed that.

Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.

She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.

It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.

Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.

Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.

It’s like time has stopped. 

Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.

Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.

—

Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.

She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.

At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.

When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.

Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.

“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”

“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”

Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”

Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.

“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”

Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas. 

The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.

Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening. 

Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.

Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye. 

At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.

There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.

“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.

Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.

The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.

“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.

Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.

Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.

It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.

This could be it. This could be that same hallucination. 

Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.

Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.

The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.

She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.

Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.

“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.

Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.

Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.

Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina’s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.

“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.

The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it. 

Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?

“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”

“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.

“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?

Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.

“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”

“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”

“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”

Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.

“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”

The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.

Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.

“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.

Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.

She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place. 

Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her. 

Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.

Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.

“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”

Tina pauses, her heart pounding.

“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there. 

For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.

“Will you come back?”

Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen. 

“Tina!”

“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group. 

---

chapter 2

[witheringwidgetwrites]

Benny weir wanting to ask reader out?

Hi hi!! I hope this is OK, I'm a little nervous about it and I ended on a cliffhanger because I wasn't sure which direction I wanted to take it in, I struggle a little bit with more general prompts, but I hope I did Benny justice enough!!!

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

The bell had just rung for the 4th hour class of the day, the halls were quickly clearing out as Ethan emptied his previous class's books into his locker.

"Benny, just go for it." Ethan ducks his head, turning to Benny while he gesture's towards Y/N. He is tired of watching his best friend stare longingly at the back of their head.

"Absolutely not E! Maybe if I had some sort of love potion or maybe something to make them forget it ever happened. Just in case I get rejected," He turned his head back to Ethan, "I need a plan. In all due time buddy."

The bell rung once again before the halls cleared out entirely, a majority of the student body filing into the cafeteria.

Benny and Ethan sat at the lunch table, awaiting the rest of their usual group. "So, what's your plan Benny?"

Benny looked around quickly, a swift bloom of flowers erupting from his hand. He sat them down on the other side of the table, checking again to make sure that no one has seen him. "I will obviously woo them secretly until they fall in love with me, then I'll reveal myself, and they'll have no choice but to be my partner."

Ethan scoffed, and shaking his head he was about to speak up until Y/N sat their tray down across from them, plopping into the seat, Rory following along. Before they could speak, Rory chimed in, "wowza, where did these come from?" grabbing them, and shoving them into his nose.

"Those are for Y/N actually, the little card thing says so, not sure where they came from."

They chuckled, "are you joking?" They picked up the bouquet, checking the tiny card with the inscription of their name. "From secret admirer, ha. This has to be a joke." A soft blush lit up their cheeks as they rolled their eyes, assuming it was some sort of prank.

"I don't think it is," Ethan took a bite of his sloppy lunch potatoes, watching Benny push his around intensely.

"Anyway, did you guys see that new movie that everyone was hyping up?"

The rest of the night was uneventful, until a few days later, when Y/N opened their locked to a stuffed bear. They were used to smaller tiny surprises, but they seemed to really step up within the next few week. The next time it was chocolates, then answers to a math quiz, and then a letter. A long letter. They were eager to share it with their friends, especially Sarah, who might have an idea on who it is.

Y/N waited by their locker for Sarah, who came by a few minutes before the first bell. "Oh my gods, Sarah, read this. I've been getting these presents from a "secret admirer" for a few weeks now, but this is the best one yet."

"I noticed, those flowers you had the other day were gorgeous. I was kinda jealous," she chuckled and started reading, mumbling to herself as she scanned the page. "Wow."

"I can't tell if it's an elaborate prank or not, it's kind of sweet." Y/N shrugged, avoiding Sarah's eyes as she looked up.

"This seems really heartfelt. I bet it's from Benny. 'I want to play Knights Of Ninjitsu IV with you for hours, I want to kick your butt, then let you win.' Who else would write that?"

They chuckled, "god no way it's Benny!"

The bell rung. "Just think about it," Sarah assured as she turned to walk to class. Had these really been from Benny? It would make a little sense, but Benny seemed like he had a type, and that type was not Y/N.

Hours later, they had finally caught Ethan alone. "Is it him, Ethan?" They seemed a little panicked, and he couldn't help but feel bad.

"I can't say who it is. I am forbade." He turned quickly and walked away, almost tumbling over his own footing. The more and more they thought about it, the more sense it made that it would be Benny. But that would be too good to be true.

The small clique had a movie night scheduled for that Sunday evening, and slowly, but surely everyone had arrived. Everyone meaning Ethan, Benny, and Y/N. They had all agreed upon a new movie, normally watching reruns, but tonight's movie seemed a little awkward, Benny had just seen slightly off all night, and for the past few weeks. Ethan ran off to the kitchen, quickly making a few bags of popcorn, the majority of which would be eaten by Benny.

"Oh, I'll go help Ethan!" Benny sprung up, turning on his heel before Y/N grabbed his hand. "I need to ask you something." Benny's breath hitched momentarily, a small blush flooding his face, "of course, what's up?"

"Has it been you?"

[the-s1lly-corner]

Seeing Kinger stuff is so nice gosh! Would it be cool to get the rest of the fluff alphabet with him please? Or if that's too much the ones you'd like to write about most

Kinger fluff alphabet! the whole thing!

two things one is more so one of my personal woe things unrelated to you but i deleted my masterlist immediately after finishing it because i didnt like the layout of it; 3 hours down the drain SOBS other thing! imma go ahead and link the other fluff alphabet stuff so its a complete list! actually third surprise thing, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I ACCIDENTALLY FORGOT TO PUT P IN THE FLUFF ALPHABET/lh/nm i fixed it now but i cant believe i skipped a letter i feel so dumb

ABSTRACT- if you were to ever abstract he would probably abstract himself. i mean if the things about queener/queenie are true and they were close, then that would mean this guy would lose a loved one TWICE. that would most definitely break someone, and kinger is already on the edge as it is. if he somehow doesnt abstract, he probably becomes even more paranoid; kind of shutting everyone out almost because he sure as hell knows he cant take a third heartbreak. rarely ever leaves his pillow fort, unless hes physically dragged out? sometimes he forgets you're gone, because he just refuses to believe the truth. sad stuff

BONDING- will rattle on and on about cool bug facts, if he has his own collection in his room he will show you it! maybe, if you want, he will let you hold some of the critters! tells a lot of stories, nicer ones from when things in the circus arent so... bad.. usually when hes in a good headspace! you get the feeling he embellishes his stories... not too different from a grandfather trying to make his experiences seem more glamorous and action packed than they really were

CUDDLING- he is very hard, due to him being a chess piece, but his clothes do a really good job at softening him! no arms :(... usually rests his hands on your back, or maybe has one on your shoulder and the other on your hip. switches between being big and little spoon, sometimes he wants to hold and sometimes he wants to be held

DATES- you can find them here!

EMOTION- kinger is... odd... im not sure where he lies, because i think sometimes he does have moments where he remembers thing and it overwhelms him, so that may be the main time hes the emotional one. however, i guess this entire time for emotional ive been focusing on more.. 'bad' emotions, but i think kinger would gush about how much he loves you, like WOAH! he is just overflowing with feelings right now

FAMILY- honestly he gives me dad vibes, if this dude doesnt already have kids in the real world (wow thats a sad thought... dude is like MIA probably and his kids are left to wonder where he went. double owie if queener/queenie was his real life wife before things happened) so if you guys make it back to the real world and unite, you're gonna be a step parent! would he like to have more kids with you? i think it depends, he would want it, though!

GIFT- you know how some people put bugs in like, cases to preserve them or something? i feel like he would give you those with some of his prettier bugs! loves anything you give him, he always keeps them stored safe in his room!

HARSH- you guys dont really get into arguments, i dont think! kinger doesnt like hiding things from you unless its something deeply personal, but otherwise hes an open book to you

IN HOUSE ADVENTURE- here!

JEALOUSY- its not so much as him being jealous as it is him being paranoid that something is going to happen to him or you, so! even if he wasnt worrying himself half to death he doesnt exactly seem like the jealous type to me, tbh

KISS- its time for my favorite thing for characters with no mouth!!! he boinks his face into yours, i actually wrote something for this! not gonna link it since its so short and i can easily relay the idea: but he would internally hype himself up (usually does this if this is the beginning of the relationship, he gets more confident as time goes on!), and just lightly 'pecks' your cheek before pulling away. loves kissing your cheeks as well as the back of your hands. loves being kisses where his mouth would be as well as his cheeks

LOVE LANGUAGE- quality time!! this man follows you around like a love sick puppy, because he loves you so much but also because again, he worries.. he also likes doing acts of service for you, makes him feel like hes capable of doing things on his own (which he is!). loves it when you return the favor via words of affirmation

MENDED- is he dreaming? is he imagining things again?

nope, its really you. somehow, you've recovered from abstracting, and you're now out of the cellar. he wants to hold you and never ever ever let you go, out of fear that hes going to come to his senses any second and youll be gone. wants to keep you in the pillow fort with him, or at least within his line of sight

NO- its less of an active dealbreaker and more of a "hey this is going to stress him out and probably hurt his mental health" but like, i dont think he would pair well with a really really intense person. like sure caien is pretty intense, but its not like caine is going to be spending a significant amount of time with him everyday, but like. you know? like i talk about some characters enjoying being on their toes and left guessing in regards to their partner, but kinger is NOT one of those people. he needs stability

PDA- less of a case where he actively and knowingly indulges in PDA and more so a case where he subconsciously holds onto your hand to keep you at arms length and to feel you. due to his lack of arms he has probably wandered off without you (and his hand) at least once. is not opposed to PDA, though, so long as its not like. insane

QUIET TIME- quiet time between the two of you is very rare. sure kinger can be very quiet when hes alone, but when hes alone with someone else, someone he cares so much about.. he cant help but fill the silence with words, to keep the ringing in his ears at bay .. so really quiet time is talking time

ROSES- ill mention it again in V (i wrote v before this section), he loves giving you roses especially on special occations! loves receiving flowers as well, he seems like a rose kind of guy as well

SHH- the one thing he doesnt like talking about is queener/queenie, well, more so the last few days leading up to her abstraction. it brings up. well, memories. on one hand he doesnt want to forget her, but on the other hand he doesnt want to bare the pain of those terrible memories

TUNES- THIS THIS THIS THIS ONE ALWAYS COME TO MY HEAD WHEN I THINK OF ROMANTIC HCS FOR SWEETIDEAS FOR OLDER GUYS IDK WHY

UPSET- im going back and forth with a lot of these as i fill in the list so! tying this in with E, i mention one of the only times he gets emotional is when he remembers some unfortunate events that took place in the circus. you're going to need to console him and bring him back to the present moment :(. when you're upset he tries to distract you, takes you to his fort, and tells you stories

VALENTINE- on the chance that he remembers what day it is, hes going to give you the most sterotypical date he can give to you. i think it might be because i can kind of see kinger as like, a classic/stereotypical romantic when it comes to you. flowers, he cant take you out to dinner so he takes you out to the digital lake to gaze at the clouds and watch the bugs pass

WANT- he wants a companion, he wants stability, and thats something he needs. he wants someone to be compassionate about him, his wellbeing, and his interests

XOXO- here! as well as Yearn!

ZZZ- if you guys go to sleep together its always in his room, where hes more comfortable. he also has a thing where he insists on being the one closer to the door; almost as if hes offering himself as protection to you should someone unwanted to come in. huh. always sleep holding onto you, snores like a dad

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 16: Crossing Paths - Episode 1: The Final Baton Pass

Luciano: “Angelo’s a fine choice. Having a stingy partner is a pain in the ass.”

Lansky: “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t get stuck with a stubborn womanizer.”

Luciano: “Ahh? Who are you talkin’ about?”

Lansky: “No one in particular.”

Luciano: “You’re soundin’ awfully specific if you ask me.”

-

Tsumugi: …

Tsumugi: (This is the performance the Autumn Troupe has put on after receiving the baton from the Spring Troupe and Summer Troupe…)

Tsumugi: (I can feel their determination to surpass the passion of the troupes before them. It’s making my heart pound.)

Tsumugi: (This is the flaming hot baton we’re receiving from the Autumn Troupe.)

Tsumugi: (As the anchor, we will carry the baton they carried from the Spring and Summer troupes to the finish line, the best we can.)

Tsumugi: (This is our– the Winter Troupe’s duty.)

Tsumugi: (We have to– no, we want to surpass this performance that the Autumn Troupe put on as a result of breaking out of their shells. We also have to go one step further than the plays we’ve been putting on as the Winter Troupe so far…)

-

[Door knocking]

Tsuzuru: Tsukioka-san, is now a good time?

Tsumugi: Yeah, come in.

-

[Door opening]

Tsumugi: Is something wrong?

Tsuzuru: It’s about time for me to come up with a plot for the Winter Troupe’s play, so I’m going around to ask if you guys have any ideas.

Tsumugi: Unlike the other troupes, our debut performance seems like it’s a little harder to come up with a sequel to.

Tsuzuru: Right. I can’t just write about what happens after that ending… But I suppose there are lots of ways to go about it.

Tsumugi: There’s been a time when I wondered what would happen if Michael was reincarnated as a human.

Tsumugi: He’d reunite with Raphael, and I think it’d be nice if the two exchanged letters.

Tsuzuru: A reunion between Michael and Raphael… The way they were separated was pretty sad.

Tsuzuru: I think I can do something with that idea. I’ll go give it some more thought.

Tsuzuru: If you’ve got any other requests, feel free to tell me anytime.

Tsuzuru: Though, killing the actor called Tsumugi Tsukioka will be a bit difficult this time around.

Tsumugi: Haha, that’s true.

Tsumugi: But it’s exactly because I killed myself in order to perform as Lucifer that I think that…

Tsumugi: I can now return to my origins and make use of the strengths of the actor Tsumugi Tsukioka.

Tsumugi: We also have the nomination for the New Fleur Award to take into consideration this time, so we have to make sure we’ll be able to carry the baton to the finals.

Tsuzuru: Ever since we got 11th in 3Q, MANKAI Company’s been getting more attention.

Tsuzuru: I’ve gotta do my best with the script, too.

Tsumugi: That reminds me, are you working on the script for Towa-kun’s troupe?

Tsuzuru: I haven’t gotten to it yet, but I’ve been thinkin’ it’s about time I get started…

Tsumugi: Has he not gathered enough members yet?

Tsuzuru: It’s just the three of them at the moment, and they’re looking for a fourth. Towa seems to be in a hurry to find someone.

Tsumugi: I think he’s excited to act out your script. I understand how he feels.

Tsuzuru: I’d be happy if that was the case, but it seems he’s got some other deadline in mind…

-

momo has entered the chat momo: one more member has joined! one left to reach the goal! Kar: graaats Iv: good for you shiki: congrats! good luck with finding the last one! momo: it’d be nice if one of u guys would join thoughhh Kar: nahhh Iv: u just don’t give up 

-

Kureha: …

Kureha: (I often go to watch theater plays because of my father, so it’s not like I’m not interested. And putting on my own play does sound fun.)

Kureha: (Being on stage in front of an audience sounds natural for me, and I’ve even thought about going down that path too.)

Kureha: (But…)

Kureha: …

Kureha: And the idea of meeting momo in person is a little…

Kureha’s mom: Kureha, shouldn’t you be going to your job soon?

Kureha: Ah, yeah. I’m just getting ready to go.

previous episode (act 15) | masterpost | next episode

INSTE POST:

Guy-N

The Autumn Troupe's sequel was fantastic. It's a performance I'd want to watch again and again. And now, it's almost the Winter Troupe's turn. I hope you will all look forward to the day we can deliver our performance to you.

NOTES:

(1) the anchor leg is the final position in a relay race, it's typically given to the fastest and/or most experienced member of the team

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part VIII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5950 Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, abuse and possible death, some borrowed in game dialogue, suggestive, slight NSFW, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here VII: here

Summary: Set in end stages of Act III. Astarion spends the day alone to gather his thoughts and prepare himself on how to make yet another confession - his love for you.

Notes:

Hi folks ♡ This is my take on non-ascended Astarion's romance scene in Act III, where I've continued to give him some more scenes between the Cazador fight and the romance scene -- because this poor vampire needs some time to decompress and breath and think! I daydreamed about a few of these scenes, and the dialogue was stuck in my brain and played on a loop until I finally got to write it down! I hope you enjoy the chapter and the culmination of all the little, patient moments between Astarion and GN!Reader/Tav that lead to this scene for them. I think there will probably only be a few more chapters for this series too! Crazy!!!

Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

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Astarion’s pale fingers were twitching against the inside of his palms as he studied the busy cobblestone street.

Pairs — that’s all he could see. The pair holding hands as they weaved through the crowd. A man gently tugging a woman to his side, out of the way of an incoming carriage, before tipping their heads back and laughing. Two men flashing each other nervous, flirty smiles as they picked out rings together. His eyes had been drawn to pairs for months now — ever since he’s realized he done the unthinkable and actually fallen for you. But usually they were pairs that he could only assume the stories of. Couples that were long gone, dead and forgotten about. Skeletons with intertwined fingers, or love letters from decades ago long lost to the Shadowlands. He hadn’t seen couples with futures — honest to god living, breathing, hopeful pairs. Whispering and sneaking glances and kisses. Gentle casual touches as they picked out fresh fruit and matching jewelry. People so full of hope and love. It made his half-dead heart ache for you. Wherever you were right now. He had remained behind today, not quite ready to face the world as the supposed “heroes” you all had become to the city. No, he wanted more time to figure out what all this meant for him. For you.

You had offered to stay with him after his morning feeding, your voice low and gentle as the others still slept. But he insisted you go — as much as that little voice in his head argued to not let you go. Someone had to be there to make sure nobody took advantage of your kind, selfless heart.

But if he had another moment with you he would probably blurt out some rambling, befuddled love confession. Which isn’t the way Astarion wanted to do things.

You both had done everything so backwards from the beginning. He wouldn’t mess this up too.

So, here he was — meandering through the busy market of Baldur’s Gate. Eyeing flowers and jewelry and goods as if they could adequately describe how he felt about you.

Roses and chocolates and dramatic passion in bed. That’s what he thought this was supposed to be. What he’d read it felt like, what he’d faked it to be.

But no.

You were sweet lilies and midnight orchids, honey and delicate pastries, the deep night sky and moonlight. You with your gentle, patient and maddening touches that turned everything he knew upside down.

Astarion never really got any of it — even with his broken concept of love. He didn’t understand the point of it.

Because it was never with you.

No, no flowers or chocolates or jewelry would really capture how he felt. None of it could dare come close to explaining the fluttering, buzzing, electric feeling that went through him at just the thought of you.

He wouldn’t rely on theatrics either — no perfectly placed blanket and bottle of wine in the middle of the woods. No practiced lines or trained movements that were practically a ritual at this point.

The vampire would speak from the heart. His cold, half-dead heart that was… well, feeling quite the opposite as of late.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the vampire took the long way back to the Elf Song Tavern — relishing the feeling of the sun heating his white hair, freckling the back of his neck. Memorizing the sights in the daytime colours, the different sounds of the busy streets.

Who knew how much longer he’d be able to take them in. That was part of what he gave away.

Another thing to come to terms with.

At least he got to make the decision for himself this time. Unlike most of his life.

The worn wooden stairs of the tavern creaked underneath Astarion as he went up to the group’s room. He marched through the ornate double doors before any nervousness or doubting thoughts slipped in at the prospect of seeing you.

But the room was quiet — the only sound a small crackling fire that must have been freshly set by housekeeping. There was no usual bustle of the dozen of you all — everyone still out in the city, doing whatever quest or do-good-ing someone insisted on today.

His pointed ear quirked slightly at a sound, and he turned his head towards it. The balcony doors were wide open, the sound of something lightly thumping the glass pane of the doors reached his ears. But he couldn’t see anything from here.

Moving heel to toe carefully to not announce himself, Astarion craned to see who it was before letting out a small sigh of relief. It was Karlach — her red tail hitting the glass softly as it swished back and forth. The rest of her was leaned up against the railing, with something hanging out of her mouth.

He let out a fake cough to get her attention, and she craned her head over her muscular shoulder to look at him. Her clawed fingers pulled a cigar out from her mouth, her lips pulling into a grin. “Hiya Fangs.”

Ugh, cigars. Astarion loathed the disgusting things — they reeked. “Karlach,” He greeted with a nod, leaning against the frame of the balcony door away from the smoke. “Back already?”

“Ah, never left.” She admitted a little sheepishly. “Wasn’t quite ready to face the world just yet.”

Right, Gortash. Gods, he’d been so wrapped up in everything that had happened to him that he’d almost forgotten. She’d asked for time to decompress after all of that too. Not that he blamed her.

The barbarian had even pulled herself together for his benefit — she was one of the first to jump to his defense when he announced to the group it was time to face his old Master.

He wondered if she got as much catharsis from killing Gortash as he did from killing the ancient vampire.

Probably not. Even with the lord dead she would still die. Not like him.

No, he'd get to live with that, like this, forever.

Sometimes he couldn’t decide what was worse. Cursed to die after finally seeing the sun and trees and ocean again. Or cursed to live forever with only fading memories of those things after longing for them for two hundred years.

It was a difficult question to answer. And now even more impossible with the added variable of his love for you — his very mortal, very breakable lover.

Astarion realized he had been silent for way too long then socially acceptable and blinked his red eyes back to reality.

Karlach had put the cigar out now thankfully, tossing her black and red hair over her shoulder as she braced her elbows on the metal railing. The rogue stepped forward to join her, pushing his hip against the railing as he looked down to the streets he had just been walking.

“I’m proud of you fangs, I hope you know that."

He raised a white brow at her as she continued. "I know it wasn’t easy… turning down what you did. But gods, are we glad you did.”

The vampire took a steadying breath, “I know… Now I just have to live with it. I’m not sure what will happen now, or once the tadpoles are gone.” He admitted with a twinge of fear in his voice.

Her amber eyes betrayed her, flickering down before she forced a smile on her face. “Whatever happens, you won’t be alone.”

“For now. I’m sure everyone will be called off to their own business." He ignored the giant, waving red flag of her impending doom. "And besides, they’re bound to get sick of avoiding the sun just for me after sometime…”

“What, Giggles?" She scoffed, "You have to know they aren’t going anywhere by now, Fangs.”

His heart squeezed tightly, “How can you be so sure?”

“Astarion. They talk about you like you put the stars in the fuckin’ sky.”

He swallowed the lump crawling up his throat. Not only had he finally noticed you actually did love him, apparently he was one of the last ones to see it too.

Karlach said it with so much conviction, that even if he hadn’t come to the same conclusion last night… he certainly would have now.

“If you’ll have them, they’ll be there.” She smiled tenderly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. She reached out her large red hand, squeezing his shoulder before she grimaced. “Oh fuck, sorry!” She wrenched her hand back, “Touching! I forgo—“

“It’s ok, I didn’t mind that.”

“Still, shoulda asked. Gods, I gotta get better at that. Just couldn’t do it for so long, heh—“

Astarion gave her a sad smile, nodding his head.

If he was honest he used to loathe Karlach. Not that she deserved it. But she was handed shit cards just like him, and she insisted on being so fucking bubbly and positive and optimistic. It drove him mental.

And the touching. Gods, the touching.

In the beginning how she moaned and mourned physical touch, all while Astarion felt like he was going to chip a molar if another person touched him again.

And then the pure elation on her face when she got her engine upgraded and could hug, kiss... grab people’s wrists and shoulders and fingers so casually. But Astarion’s face had to be a perfect, numb mask so he could hide the fact that bile was rising in his throat and his skin was on fire anytime someone grabbed him.

He hadn’t meant to hate her. And he knew he didn’t now. Actually, he felt like he was already mourning his friend a little bit. He would miss her.

“Thank you,” Astarion’s said softly.

Karlach’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead, a little stunned at the gratitude. “For what?”

“For being my friend. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You deserved it, Fangs. The whole time.” Her voice was unusually soft and low, like a whisper. “Every good thing that’s happened to you — including them. And there’s more to come, I know it.”

The smiles they shared after was bittersweet.

Hope in times like these was a dangerous thing.

• • •

Your shoulders instantly relaxed as your eyes settled on Astarion’s form. He was lounging near the fire in your room at the tavern, a a book face down over his leg with his knee acting as a placeholder. His striking red eyes watched your every step as you swayed on tired feet over to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The vampire said softly, looking up at you from the settee.

“May I?”

His pale hand tapped the spot next to him. Your legs all but gave out as you sat down on the soft cushions, your muscles finally finding some relief after your long day. Before you could you even think to ask him, Astarion was wrapping his arm around your side – pushing you into him.

You relished in the feeling, losing yourself in his scent and the feel of the pads of his fingers on your soft waist. Then his strong nose was pressed into your neck, pressing the smallest of kisses to the sensitive skin that caused a wave of emotions to crash through you all at once. “You’re alright?” He asked quietly in your ear, before pulling away to look you over.

“Alright. Tired, glad to be back.” You gave him a meek smile, “And you, love?” You couldn’t help but study him, your eyes falling to his other hand that was not holding you – playing with the stitches on the sides of his pants. The anxious habit had made him go through a couple pairs of pants by now.

“Yes. No. Hmm… It’s hard to verbalize.” He finally admitted.

Your eyes locked and a silent conversation transpired in those seconds. His blinks and flash of his red eyes was confirmation enough. “I understand.”

He licked his pink lips as he slid his hand from around you, his fingertips dragging across the small of your back as he instead laced his pale fingers in yours. “I do feel guilty that I ended up lounging around here in the sun while the rest of you were out being heroes…” Then he swallowed, staring out to the windows just beginning to turn golden pink with the slowly setting sun. “I guess I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?”

You gave him a sad smile, feeling your chest tighten at the look on his face. “I think you did the right thing. Stopping it. Stopping him.”

Never again would you say that name. Never again would you give the bastard vampire master an ounce of power, even in death.

“I know. So do I. Though that doesn't mean it stings any less.” You felt your eyes burn as his voice broke slightly, getting thick with emotion. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands on your lap, “I'll be with you either way. I hope you know that.”

“I think I do,” Astarion said, his eyes turning soft and round as he looked over at you. Then he rolled his neck with attitude, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

You thought about your adventures today with your companions and couldn’t help but agree. “We do love to find trouble, don’t we?”

A small chuckle escaped him, shaking you both slightly on the settee. Then he took a steadying breath, his fingers tightening their hold on yours for a moment. “There's something I'd like to show you, if that's alright. Something out in the city.”

Your brows met in the middle, “What is it?”

“Something I haven't shown anyone else,” He admitted with an odd look on his face. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” You agreed, squeezing his cold hand back gently.

• • •

“This way, it's not far.” Astarion said softly, his hand stretched back as he led you forward.

It took all of his willpower to stop his other hand from trembling as you both walked through the graveyard. The over-grown grass and long forgotten tombs were bathed in the moonlight from above, casting shadows across the space.

He risked a glance behind him to look at you, but you were as quiet and composed as ever as you took in the sights around you. The vampire had never seen you be so quiet as you had been in the last few days – he knew it was for his benefit. Usually his lovely moon was as sharp-tongued as he was, as eloquent and flowery as Wyll or Gale. But no, these past few days you had been listening and watching so patiently. You’d given him both comfort and space in a way he’d never thought possible.

He would have to add that to the never ending list of why he loved you.

His half-dead heart crawled up his throat as he approached the familiar sight of his own tombstone. It seemed so simple just sitting here in the overgrown grass – clearly untouched all these centuries later. It had held so much power over him for so long — this haunted place that was marked as the beginning of this existence.

This hole in the ground. This slab of stone.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.” He croaked, his fingers slipping from yours to form fists beside him. “Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

His master’s name made his mouth feel wrong, his tongue heavy and swollen.

“From that day on I was his. Until yesterday.”

“You were never his.” You said quietly, “Whatever he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock.” His bottom lip trembled, before he steadied himself. Turning to the side, he moved his gaze from the tombstone to you. “For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was, lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

You took a deep breath, looking at him with your eyes wide, “And what do you want?”

Astarion’s heart stuttered, he was doing this. That’s what the whole point of all of this was, wasn’t it? Why he had that nervous fluttering in his stomach all day. “You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do!” His throat worked soundlessly, before he spoken again. “I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.”

“You won't. Whatever comes next, I've got you.” You said it so softly, but with so much conviction he couldn’t help but believe you.

Then your mouth spread into a radiant smile that he couldn’t help but match. “Thank you.”

It took all of him to tear his eyes away from you. “Well... I should probably fix this.” Kneeling down, he pulled a sheathed dagger from his boot. He took the tip of it, pushing it into the weathered stone as he added the current year. The year he woke up from the evil nightmare that was his life. The year he met you.

Sheathing the dagger, he fell back onto his heels and he admired his work. You dropped down beside him, close enough he could feel your warmth radiating around you. And you were so quiet again, giving him time to process.

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough, it's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer.” Taking a deep breath, he swiveled on his knees until his was face to face with you. The moon was backlit behind your head, illuminating your silver hair with an ethereal halo. His fingertips couldn’t resist reaching out and tracing the soft line of your cheek.

Taking a steadying breath, he let his hand fall back onto his lap. His lashes casting a shadow down his face as he looked down for a moment before he spoke again. “Months ago, on that bed in the last light inn... you asked me how I saw you.”

You nodded as you remembered, “You told me you needed time.”

“Ask me again.”

You licked your lips, “How do you see me?”

“I look at you, and I see everything. The moon and stars. The world. A future.” His pale fingers reached out for yours, intertwining them carefully. “I was petrified when you asked me before… because I knew, even back then. But I’m not afraid anymore.

Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” Astarion confessed before his other hand pale grabbed the side of your face, holding you steady as he pressed his lips to yours gently — to give you time to pull away.

The vampire didn’t have to wait very long for you to kiss him back. Your lips meeting his almost instantly, your hands pressing tenderly into the lapels of his jacket to hold you steady as you both balanced on your knees. Your soft lips, your scent, the feeling of your fingers bunched on his clothes — you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever had.

You pulled away just long enough to whisper back in a husky voice, “I love you Astarion, irrevocably so.”

A feeling gripped his heart so tightly, spread through every pore and crevice of his half-dead body that he felt it bring him back to life. Astarion had been manipulated, coerced, abused and forced into acquiescence for over two hundred years. He had felt the physical control that his Master had over his body and soul. But this — you, you possessed him another way he had never felt. He could barely process it, let alone articulate the way you were making him feel right now. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to get the words out.

Instead silver lined the bottoms of his eyes and his bottom lip trembled, “What ever could I have done to deserve such a beautiful creature as you, my heart.”

But you shook your head, your silver hair bouncing with the movement, “I have never once questioned my love for you. You… you’ve never made me feel like I’m too loud, too much. You made me feel easy to love — and you did make me feel loved, long before you ever said the words. You make me feel like my blessing is something to be grateful for… not a thorn in your side. That I’m not a burden.”

“A burden? Never!” Anger flared through him at the people who made you feel this way. “A burden is something forced upon, against your will. I know that feeling. But you – you aren’t a burden. I choose you. Do not dilute yourself, or hide yourself away. Not from me.”

It was your turn to have happy tears fill your eyes now, your freckled nose crinkling as you smiled wide, “I love you.”

“Say it again.” He breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. His red eyes flickered down so he could watch your lips move and form around the words.

“I love you.”

A broken noise escaped from Astarion’s throat as he grabbed onto you. Euphoria and arousal and light flooded through him like never before. “Hells, the things you do to me. Just those words alone.” He hissed as his hand slid down the back of your neck, pulling you into him so he could kiss you more deeply then ever before.

Gods, did he want you. He wanted to taste every inch of you, re-discover your entire body. He wanted you breathy and panting as he swirled you with his mouth. He wanted his name on your lips and your hands on his body. He’d waited for this, waited for you for centuries.

Astarion gently pushed you into the long, soft grass and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. He lowered himself carefully on top of you, his hands bracketing either side of your head before asking in a whisper, “Is this okay?”

You nodded with a swallow, before opening your mouth. “Yes. And for you?”

“Gods, yes.” He purred into your ear before pressing his body flush to yours and capturing your lips again. Almost instantly one of your hands was at the nape of his neck, swirling his curls and massaging his scalp to the rhythm of your kisses.

The vampire slid his knee between your legs, stretching them apart so he could settle in between them deliciously — a hand moving underneath your shoulder to support you as you stretched your neck up to keep up with your kisses. He felt himself harden in his leather pants, rutting in the soft muscle of your thigh to get any kind of friction. Then his other pale hand slipped between the two of you and cupped between your own legs, feeling your arousal through the thin fabric of your trousers.

“Astarion,” You hummed in approval, bucking into his hand that sparked the fire in his belly to heat even more. He buried his face into your neck, nipping and sucking the delicate skin before pressing his tongue and lips to it in a soothing touch. If he didn’t stop here, he wasn’t sure if he could. The whole point of this was to do things the right way...

As if the cosmos heard his thoughts, the sounds of crunching steps nearby caused both of you to pull away in a flurry. You were both breathless, your chests heaving and skin flushed from your touch. Then quiet chuckles escaped you, shaking your bodies as your foreheads touched.

“Do you see what you do to me?” Astarion whispered, before detangling himself from you. You brushed each other off, before standing up and moving into the shadow of a nearby tree as incoming torch lights suddenly appeared.

“Hello?” A gruff voice called out, the clink of chained armor ringing as they walked closer to where you two were just laying.

“It was probably a ghost, Ryder.” Another voice teased from behind.

City guards. Well, that could have been awkward.

“OooOOOooo,” They mocked again.

“Eh! Stop it, you know this place gives me the creeps.” The first voiced huffed, before turning on their heel. “You owe me a pint for that.”

Astarion waited until their voices and footsteps faded away before peering around the large tree trunk. Another laugh escaped him, “What was it that I was just saying about you and trouble?”

You shook your head but joined his laughter, “That one is all your fault, you instigator.”

“Pardon me for finding you absolutely irresistible.” He licked his lips as he stared at yours, before blinking his red eyes back to reality. “Now what, my love?”

“Perhaps, now I can show you something I’ve never shown anyone else?”

He quirked a white eyebrow before letting a smirk spread, “Lead the way.”

Leaving the graveyard behind, you walked with your fingers intertwined and stepped in time with each other as you wandered down the cobblestones streets of Baldur’s Gate. You led the way confidently, a soft smile on your face as you snuck glances over to him. It made his heart thrum and stomach twist.

As you turned the corner onto a residential street, Astarion’s steps slowed. He looked around, blinking as he realized, “I know this street.”

You cocked your head as you kept walking, pulling him along with you, “Do you?”

“Quite well. I would use it to get to the little tavern nearby as a bit of a shortcut. But there’s this lovely little townhouse, tiny. It’s lavender with—”

“Flower boxes?” You finished for him.

“Yes, lilies.” Astarion walked forward before stopping in front of the townhouse. The narrow house was sandwiched between two others, painted a pastel lavender that shined brilliantly in the moonlight compared to the darker colours around it. “This one,” He pointed a long, pale finger at it.

You frowned slightly as you looked at the planter boxes, “The poor flowers.”

He followed your gaze, “They will bloom again, I’m sure of it.” Stepping closer to the little townhouse, he pointed up to the second floor window. “You know, there’s a piano in there.”

You perked up at that, your eyes darting from him to the window at back, “How do you know that?”

“I would hear it sometimes, faintly. Soft little melodies.”

“Really?”

A small smile spread across Astarion’s lips as he remembered the tunes — how sometimes he would stop underneath the window just out of sight in the dim light of the evening and listen. The harsh tug of his master’s orders would usually snap at him for the delay, but it was worth it to hear the joyful sounds.

“Every so often they would sing too. Such a lovely voice. I actually… l used to come this way when I was in the area — hoping I would hear them.” He admitted, wringing his hands together in front of him. “And I would try so hard to commit it to memory, so I could remember it when... Well, you know when.”

You looked over to him with the softest line between your brows. “Astarion, when was this?”

“Oh, time is so hard for me.” He tapped his chin as he thought, “Recently though— the last year or so I’d say.“

You worked your throat silently before pulling out a silver key out of your pocket, holding it out in front you. “When I realized I was going to stay in Baldur’s Gate, I started looking for a more permanent place to stay instead of the inns.”

You turned on your heel, and began to climb the narrow stairs on the side of the townhouse, “I saw an ad in the paper about a tiny room available at a discounted rate...” You slid the silver key into the painted wooden door that matched the rest of the house, and pushed it open. “Because the previous tenant had passed away and left behind a piano that was would cost them too much to move.”

Astarion followed you in wordlessly, his mouth falling open as you continued speaking. Until both of you stood inside the tiny lavender townhouse. It wasn’t very lavish — it was actually quite quaint, a little outdated. Some of the furniture looked well-loved and worn — a double bed pushed in the corner underneath the window to make space for the large upright piano taking up the majority of the room.

“I thought the piano was a selling feature, I loved it… I would play almost every night.” You said breathlessly, spinning around to face the vampire again.

His red eyes stayed on you, his voice thick with emotion. “It was you?”

“One year I’ve rented this room.” You admitted.

“It was you.” He breathed, crossing to you in a few steps and grabbing onto your fingers gently. The soft fingers that could play the piano so beautifully. “Play— play for me?” He asked, gesturing over to the dusty piano.

Your lips curled up as you nodded, pulling out the cracked leather piano bench and sitting before it. You stretched your fingers over the ivory keys, the dim light from the windows catching on the rings adorning them. Astarion could tell you must have taken lessons, your posture almost perfect as you straightened your back at the edge of your seat. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind of someone trying to teach him the same once, hundreds of years ago as a child.

But then your fingers pressed into the keys, and the emotion that crossed your face could not have been taught. You closed your eyes as you struck the first few chords, not needing to look as your hands glided between positions.

He was transfixed watching you, listening to you. Somehow you picked the tune that he remembered most clearly — the one that would slip into his mind the most when he was desperately looking for any kind of reprieve. It was more beautiful then he remembered, his memory of it was really a disservice to how exquisite it truly was.

Your posture laxed slightly as you began to hum, harmonizing with the melody you played on the piano and your voice drew Astarion in. He stood behind you, his fingers trailing the ends of your silver hair as he listened, brushing down the nape of your neck before squeezing it tenderly as you played the last note.

“I can’t believe it was you, this whole time. Your tunes, your voice kept me from madness some nights. Staring up at the moon, and you—” His voice broke, as tears broke free so instead he bent over to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

You turned to face him, standing up to reach his height. You gave him a sad smile, before asking, “May I?” He nodded with eyes closed, unsure of what he was even agreeing to. But then he felt the pads of your fingertips wipe his tears away, as gracefully and practiced as you had just touched the piano keys.

Astarion opened his eyes and grabbed your hand before you could pull it away. He held onto it before kissing your fingertips closely, tasting his own salty tears. “Just when I thought there was no possibility of loving you more.”

You mewed at the statement, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen spreading across your lips. “Do you believe me now?”

“About what?” He whispered.

“Fate.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as his heart lurched forward like it would thump right out of his chest, “Yes, my moon. I think I do.”

Leaning his face down, Astarion kissed you softly as he moved his arms to wrap around you. You matched his movements, circling your arms around his waist as your fingers grabbed onto the fabric of his jacket. Even with the long, drawn-out kisses, without requiring air like a mortal did, Astarion felt like he could finally breathe – fully and deeply for the first time in centuries. The darkness of his eternal immortal suffering suspending for a moment as his heart thundered alongside yours.

His lips became fervent on yours, kissing you harder and deeper than ever before. Your fingers moved to the front of shirt, knotting in fists as you pulled him into you. He groaned at the sensation of your chest pushed into his.

The vampire was sure he had never wanted anything so bad in his life — no other person, or blood, or freedom. Everything about this, about you, was making his mind swirl and heart pound like he had never experienced. Your scent — the sweet aroma of your bouquet, and the soap from last night. Your taste, like the richest wine and sweet honey pastries. The dichotomy of your gentle, tender kisses and the powerful, all-consuming ones you bestowed to him now. The little lavender house with the soft melodies and songs that had quite literally saved him for the past year, belonging to you.

“Starry,” You moaned out breathlessly as he trailed his kisses down your chest and throat, collarbones and sternum.

“Mmm, I can’t decide.” He purred into your skin, keeping up his touches with his lips and hands between his words.

“Decide what?” You panted slightly above him.

“Where I want you. The bed. This piano. Right here on the floor.”

You pulled away, your eyebrows furrowing softly, “Astarion, we don’t have to do anything you don’t—”

But he grabbed your chin with his thumb, catching your bottom lip slightly, as he made you look at him. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“What?”

“I want you — desperately. I ache for you, darling. And you are so sweet and considerate and have been so, so very patient. But I will beg if you want me to. Will that get the point across?” He sank to his knees in front of you, kneeling on the worn wooden floorboards of your rented townhouse. The tips of his fingers trailed down the back of your thighs delicately as he steadied himself for balance. “I love you. I need you. Please—”

You stopped his rambling as you bent over to kiss him, cutting off his words before pulling him off of the floor. “You don’t beg or kneel anymore, not to anyone and especially not to me.” You held either side of his face, staring intensely at him. “Do you truly want this?”

“Yes,” He said simply, his red eyes round and soft. Putting his hand on the outside of yours, stilling holding his cheek. His voice dropped an octave, barely more than a whisper as the building sensation of arousal and bliss started to form all over again. “Yes, my moon.”

Your lashes fluttered as you looked down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He knew they were a mirror to his own, shining with deep, true emotion. “Anything for you, my love. I am yours.”

The sound that escaped him was cut off as you pushed your lips back onto his.

Read the next part here

[ghostiewriter]

Im sorry I have to come to someone and talk about this part of the season (and all the season tbh). And Im going very in detail so sorry in advance

1) JJ family plot ???? Im so sorry but FIRST how JJ Maybank would even TRUST so easily Luke’s word no let me say how he would EVEN TRUST CHANDLERS???? Like are we talking about the same JJ??? At this point I knew the writers forgot their character trait like…JJ still going into Larissas grave made me roll and choke HE WOULD NEVER like in that invasive he would have call the shit of Chandler but mmm NO

2) the LACK of comfort or confrontation from Kiara?? Ive been noticing how less of a character the writers had given her since s3 BUT i understood the dynamic in that season seeing as she had to put her guard down so JJ could trust and go forward his feelings BUT THIS SEASON?? Im so MAD like what do you mean JJ tells her about his dilemma and she DOESNT SAYS A WORD?? NO COMFORT? NO HUG, KISS?? ANYTHING? How is it that his so call boyfriend has a literal IDENTITY CRISIS but she is worrier with Sarahs pregnancy (that friendship was the only thing that I cant save about this and its not even comforting) HOW IS THAT JJ can make all that stupid bullshit (that is so ooc btw) and SHE DOESNT SAYS ANYTHING?? Are you telling me she wouldnt be the first to find something fishy about a so call new dad of JJ’s?? Of Lukes word?? Wouldnt try to make any sense in JJ? Im sorry but they wrote her so DULL and with 0 personality like where is the character I felt in love with? JJ giving a fuck of Kiaras being literally put in a freezer, JJ treating Kie as she was a burden, Rafe being with them, not saying to Rafe to take care of Kiara while he was going to climb?? Him or Kiara running into each other arms after JJ and Sarah missing? I know this show isnt Jiara’s only show but they are best friends and lovers in case the writers forgot they had to interact as anything similar. Like any reaction of any of them would be good like Pope nor Cleo getting a thank god you are alive?? What a mess honestly

This being said they gave a lot of her traits to Cleo too because they can’t write women personalities in that room even if they had a fun pointing at them: sarcastic, cook, knowing about boats?? I love Cleo i really do she is an Icon but i guess they didnt know how to build two great poc women

Also the LACK of girls having the iniciative or the getting the resource or looking for the problem or finding the answer? (ik sarah has her scenes but they downgrade her as a mother like her only plot in this part was being pregnant and worried about that and its just SO unfair) like when Pope, John B and Kie are on the boat and the storm is hitting are you telling me Kiara didnt have ANY knowledge?? Kiara “you cant make anything without me” Carrera??? What do you mean?? And its the only scene that i can recall but there were so much more!

3) Sarahs pregnancy storyline is a JOKE and I write it with capitals buy it deserves bigger letters. Letting Pope and Cleo out, Rafe not saying a word, JJs reaction i mean… this are not the same characters and its so sad

4) Pope and Cleo being so distant of the pogues. What the heck was the whole military thing?? By the end I felt such a disconection with them and the rest.

5) WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KILL JJ AFTER ALL THE ABUSE AND THAT SHITTY STORYLINE OF LUKE NOT BEING HIS FATHER AND NOT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT HIS BIOLOGICAL ONES (ESPECIALLY HIS MOTHER FOR GOD SAKES) it honestly feels so DISRESPECTFUL FOR THE CHARACTER and I dont care if it were the writers or Rudy himself I want them all in a stick for allowing it. Its simply not right what a downgrade I cant believe it honestly.

The lack of scenes with JJ and the rest of the pogues (including Kiara) made his dead nothing special like are you telling me the first time he says I love you to Kie is when he is dying???? In WHAT UNIVERSE? Pope, John B and Kiara functioning after his death?? Are we talking about the same group from season 1 &2???

I dont think i finished with all my rambling probably forgot a LOT but im so pissed because for a moment I didnt believe JJ’s death theory but at one point in part 2 I really tought that maybe it could happen because nothing of his character was making ANY SENSE

He did stupid bullshit but was always so kind hearted and selfless. He was abused his entire life and loved her friends fierceless. He DESERVED so much more than what they gave him and im so MAD because he deserved to end up happy on his surf trip like DID THEY FORGOT ABOUT ALL OF THAT?? How in the world would you say that it was JJs storyline since season 1??? Its bullshit like the fucking storyline about his biological parents or whatsoever.

Im so sorry for the fans and the people who watched and had it as a comfort show. I cant believe what a lot of bad writing and unprofessional actor can do to a beloved show. I mean what do you mean you couldnt share romantics scenes with your cast mate?? Its so beyond the drama at this point I really never care about it if the job was done and deliver and now we can say Rudy cant get shit done and its such a shame.

I would want to say I will be watching next season but I would me lying so I will turn to fanfics instead (just like I was doing since s3). Thats canon for me now!! With whis I also want to thank every fanfic writer in Jiaras fandom because they all gave everything to build this world even better than the writers could and I hope you still write for them because they could have just been the greatest ship of all and I think they still are! Because after all Jiara is a fan’s ship and we create the rules for them!

i have nothing to add because everything you stated in here is facts💅

[takumaswife]

My Prayer ~ Hokuto Yoshino

Word Count: 1497 words

Genre: Angst

A/N: this is my first time writing since 2014.. ive never had so much anxiety writing this..

Here is a link to the song if you wanna get the feel as you read:

This overflowing feeling

My unstoppable heart beating

You’re in front of me right now

Because I’m sure this coincidence is fate

There he was, staring at you as you stood across from him. It felt like the world had stopped, and time had froze. The way you looked so beautiful. Eyes sparkling, the brightest smile he had ever seen. He knew from that moment he was in love with you.

The warmth of our hands linked together

I don’t want to let go

I don’t want to leave you

The way your hand held his, how excited you were to tell him the great news. "What has gotten you so excited today?" Hokuto asked, his smile wide as seeing yours only brought him joy. "I finally got a date! Me and Itsuki are going on a date!" You shouted, jumping slightly as you couldn't contain your excitement. His smile slowly faded. This time, the world had stopped but not in a good way. He felt his world crashing down. The skies were turning gray and cloudy. You were so excited that you didn't even notice he wasn't smiling anymore.

When the flow of time passes by

It will pass me and you heartlessly

I just want to be by your side

That is my only wish

My prayer

It had been a year of friendship with Hokuto. A year of him being in love with you, but you were too blind to see. Everyone knew, everyone could see except for you and Itsuki. Every night, he would pray that he would get the chance to take your heart and protect it. To keep it safe and never let it get hurt again. He would do anything to have you as his.

Although seeing your gaze when you look at someone else

Hurts me

Kazuma and Makoto had talked all the members into going to a small club for the night in hopes of helping Hokuto get his mind off of you and Itsuki. However, when Hokuto had seen you two on the dance floor, bodies pressed together as a slow song played, he felt his heart break. The way you looked at his best friend with the biggest smile, eyes once again sparkling like the day you told him about the date. Oh, how he wished that was him. He wished you were looking at him like that. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his on your hips as your bodies swayed to the music in the background.

But our love for each other is more when we can’t meet

So that the bond between us

Don’t break apart

During the time you and Itsuki were dating, Hokuto would try to stay away from you to lose those feelings. But he couldn't. He couldn't lose feelings for you. You were his everything. Every time he tried to stay away, the others, along with you, would beg him to join any outings or movie nights. He couldn't say no to you, especially with those big eyes you would give him.

When the flow of time passes by

It will pass me and you heartlessly

I just want to be by your side

That is my only wish

My prayer

Two years. Two years Hokuto had watched you and his best friend spend every moment together. He would just watch when you were all together sitting around and chatting; the way you would smother the male with kisses, feed him whenever they were out eating. Everyone would cringe at the puppy love between you and Itsuki, but he didn't. He wished it was him. He wanted that.

But today was different. The letter that came in the mail. "Save The Date." The words that haunted him. The words he never wanted to see unless it was with you and him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, hands gripping his hair as he could feel a tear slipping down his cheek. The one person he was truly in love with would never be with him.

I’d give anything

And I would do everything

I’d climb the highest mountain just for one wish

Here he was, standing beside Itsuki at the altar. The best man at a wedding he wished was his. How could this happen? How could he not be man enough to tell you the truth before it was too late.

As the music started playing and the doors opened, he saw you. His heart burst at how beautiful you looked. As you made your way down the aisle, he found himself tearing up. Itsuki glanced back at Hokuto, patting his shoulder as he thought Hokuto was crying because of how close you two were. Behind Hokuto was Ryu, who frowned when he saw the tears in his eyes. Ryu was someone Hokuto found himself going to when he needed to rant or cry over you. He knew how bad Hokuto was hurting during that moment. He would do anything to be in Itsuki's place.

I’d give anything

And I would do everything

I’d swim the deepest ocean just for one wish

I wish for only one thing, To you…

Sitting there in the crowd as you and Itsuki had your first dance. It reminded him of that night in the club. The way you still had that same smile, the same sparkle in your eyes. The same looks he wished you were giving him.

When the flow of time passes by

It will pass me and you heartlessly

I just want to tell you

That I love you and you only

After taking the time to greet everyone at your wedding, you finally found yourself in front of Hokuto. Your arms wrapping around your best friend immediately. He reciprocated by hugging you tighter than he ever had before. "Are you okay?" You asked as you stepped back, noticing the hug felt different from any other time. "Y/N.. I need to tell you something.." Hokuto spoke quietly, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed your hand in his. He rubbed your knuckles as he tried to find his words.

"I-" He started but immediately stopped when he looked into your eyes. Was expressing his feelings worth destroying your friendship? Was it worth ruining your big night? Was he being too selfish? He swallowed the lump in his throat and put on a fake smile. "I'm so happy for you.." He spoke, trying his best to sound sincere. However, the crack in his voice told you differently, but you decided not to push the matter.

To you…

Before it gets too late

I just want to tell you

That I love you and you only

My prayer

The cheers roared as you and Itsuki made your way down the aisle of people towards the car that was decorated with 'Just Married' on the back. Rice being thrown in the air as the crowd celebrated the newlyweds. As they got to the car, Hokuto, along with the other members of the group, were there to give the last hugs before the couple drove off on their honeymoon.

You turned to Hokuto and gave a large smile as your arms wrapped around his neck for the last time that night. Hokuto hugged you just as tight as he did earlier, another tear slipping down his cheek and onto your shoulder. You could feel something was wrong but didn't know if you should ask at this time in front of everyone.

"Ready to go?" Itsuki turned to ask you. "Yes, darling. One second." You replied as you kept hugging your best friend. "I love you, Kuto.." you whispered softly to make your friend feel better. Hokuto's body stiffened when he heard those words. He gulped, taking a deep breath before speaking. "And I will always love you.." Hokuto replied. But you knew this wasn't an 'I love you' that you normally heard from him. This one was different. From his tone, from the hug, from the tear you felt against your skin. You knew what he meant when he said those three words.

"Let's go, baby. We have to get to the airport in an hour or we will miss our flight." Itsuki spoke softly as he rubbed your lower back. You pulled away from the hug, giving Hokuto a small smile. Leaning up, you kissed his cheek before following your love to the car. The two of you leaned out the window, waving to the cheering guest as you drove off. As the car drove further from the venue, you watched Hokuto in the sideview mirror. The sad expression he had been holding in all night. You sat back against the seat, staring out the window as Itsuki's hand rested on your thigh. All you could think about was Hokuto's words and what they meant. You knew the meaning because deep down, you always had reciprocated those exact feelings for the blonde hair boy.

[modelartist-demri]

NEW ENTRY ON MY BLOG!

On October 29, 1996, Demri passed away of acute intoxication caused by the combined effects of opiate, meprobamate, and butalbital when she was only 27. 

Demri and Layne in the Spring of 1990 by Krista Kay.

Her last few years, since around Thanksgiving 1993, her health began taking a turn for the worse. She told her mother she had been having fevers in excess of a hundred degrees. Austin told Demri the next time it happened, she should go to the hospital. The first of many hospitalizations happened shortly after. “She came in to the hospital for the first time at the end of November of ‘93. She was in until January of ‘94. She got out and was back in in March of ‘94 and at that time put on life support,” Austin recalled. “When she would be in, she would come in to the emergency room. They would admit her up into a medicine floor; then she’d go from the medicine floor to the Intensive Care Unit and life support, and then she wouldn’t die. So she’d go back to the medicine floor – she’d be on IV and antibiotics for a month. This went on and on and on. She had her lungs operated on twice. She had her heart operated on twice [she had a heart valve repaired and another replaced and the pacemaker implanted age 26]. She suffered miserably.” [1]

Jacque: “She was very sick in the end. She’d had open heart surgery and had nerve damage to her feet which were mostly numb. She had no body fat at all, and was cold all the time. Often the car’s heater would be on full blast, even on a nice day, everyone would be sweating and she’d be shivering and wearing a sweater.” [2]

According to Amber Ferrano, Dave Navarro was the one who brought up the endocarditis . They had the doctors check and found it on the back of Demri’s heart valve.

Demri with Dave Navarro ca. 1994 in a medical facility.

Amber Ferrano: “Dave was my go-to person as someone who had kicked to help Layne and Demri when various things came up with them regarding drugs because they had used with him in the past when Jane’s Addiction came through town and now clean. Dave was their inspiration. He was in AA, and though they didn’t believe in AA they loved him, he was non-jugemental and kind. They really wanted to show him they could get clean. Bob Timmins helped too. They thought if lifers could get clean because of him there was hope. 

Dave was the one who brought up the endocarditis, asking if that is what she had. It was the first time we heard of it. All those times in the hospital. They ended up finding it on the back of her heart valve.”

While in the ICU, Austin said Demri was conscious but intubated – she had a tube inserted down her throat to help her breathe, which she despised. She would tell her mother, “I hate being fucking intubated. I can’t talk, and these people come and they ask me these fucking questions, and I can’t fucking talk, and I feel like a fucking fish in a fucking fishbowl.” She communicated by writing on a small blackboard with a piece of chalk. [1]

Despite the multiple hospitalizations and brushes with death, Demri continued using drugs. She had seemingly accepted that her addiction was going to kill her. 

Amber Ferrano: “I brought mortuary books in to Demri at the hospital when Layne got back from New York in April of 1996. I, of course, shocked Demri and said I thought we could go coffin shopping. Of course when Layne got there she told on me. When she first saw them she was balling saying she didn’t want to die. Layne talked about all the issues. I said you have to be clean to fix those issues and they get less and less. The thing with them was people waiting outside their home with drugs as a way to befriend them or mailing it to them. It killed Layne when he got letters about people using. He didn’t write to glorify it, it was cathartic to work his way through it."

Barbara Dearaujo: “She was in and out of the hospital for months at a time before she actually passed away. I would go visit her and she had all the nurses going crazy. She put up all her drawings and flowers all over the walls and did things she wasn’t supposed to do like take off with her IV and go out and smoke. She was a wild child... My heart goes out to her mom. She was a good mother and she tried so hard to help Demri, but Demri was her own woman and she lived in the extreme always. She was a broken child. Grasping for something to relieve some deep pain that no one but her knew.”

One of the last photos of Demri alive, as far as her mum knew. Demri and her mum Kathleen on September 1996. Kathleen sent this photo to Memories of Demri instagram (no longer exists).

Donald John: “I was very close with Demri Parrott, knew her during her last year of life. I met her at the hospital through a friend and became very close to her. I used to visit her a lot while in the hospital, and we had some very deep spiritual conversations about everything, including her relationship with Layne from the start to the end. She even gave me a pair of sunglasses that was his. I used to read books to her and let her borrow a lot of my books, especially art books, to keep her busy. I used to hold her while she cried and watched her while she slept. I used to go outside with her when she wanted to smoke and when she was feeling better to walk, and met her mother. I even got to check out her mother’s home which had a lot of pictures of Demri of her modeling days and stuff. Sometimes on her breaks she would come to my apartment that was like 5 min walk away from the hospital. She would come over and we would do heroin together and paint pictures with my art supplies, sitting Indian style on the floor listening to music. Then when she was released from the hospital she stayed with me for a while in my place and even slept in the same bed with me, we never had sexual relations but were deep friends and something more. She and Layne at the time were pretty much over even though he visited her while in the hospital. Sometimes we would cuddle in bed and she was so skinny. When she would leave to do her errands around town she would sometimes come back with gifts, like one time I got a cool wallet from her and a necklace with an angel on it – at the time I had my first tattoo of an angel on my forearm. When me and Demri first met I was just smoking heroin, then I started shooting and when she found out she was very upset. Time had passed and I saw her frequently. Then I found out about her death.” [2]

The other of the last photos of Demri alive, as far as her mum knew. Demri and her mum Kathleen on September 1996. Kathleen sent this photo to Memories of Demri instagram (no longer exists).

Ryan Kalsbeck:“Demri was staying for a bit with me at my old apartment off 45th and Lake City Way, we had been friends for years by this point but her addiction was sad for me to see. We had long serious conversations about a lot of things. Personal, to say the least. But she always carried her Leather Modeling Portfolio with her everywhere she would go or where she was staying, but she made me promise to please hold on to this portfolio for her and don’t let anyone around it or in it and she would eventually have a solid place to bring it to and for safe keeping. I never let one picture wander off into anyone ever. I promised Demri I would guard it and I knew how important this was to her fading life. She was so afraid of loosing this or someone stealing it, probably swiping rare as f*ck photos of her and Layne, stacks of the two in different vintage clothing. But I had her portfolio in my possession for at least 1 year, and one day like normal she left my apartment and I was still sleeping. Said, ‘I’ll see you at the Off Ramp later tonight.’ I wasn’t surprised to not run into her that night, and this was one of the last times of her disappearing, no one hearing from her for months at a time. But she always popped up at someone’s place eventually. The story is deep, and thick, and personal for me to speak of.”

Terri Brannon: “Last time I saw her, I went over to Carolina Court to say goodbye because I was moving back to Arkansas. I had a very sad feeling when I hugged her. I knew in my heart I’d never see her again. She was so full of life back then. A wild gypsy child. Reminded me of myself many years before. It’s been years and years, but you never forget Demri. She is unforgettable.” [2]

Demri's graveyard at Miller-Woodlawn Memorial Park, Bremerton, Washington, USA 

During her final days, Demri was staying with an older man named Tom, the father of a friend of hers, at his place in Bothell. According to Amber Ferrano, he was a drug dealer, Demri was staying with him because he had klonopin so she wouldn’t have seizures. Demri had lived something of a nomadic existence, staying with different people for periods of a few days to a few weeks at a time. Toward the end of her life, it became very difficult for her to find a place to stay. 

On the afternoon of October 28, 1996, Tom drove Demri into Seattle. She told him she wanted a few things from a Fred Meyer grocery store. When he arrived at the store, Demri was unconscious, and he couldn’t wake her. He went into the store to pick up her things, leaving the car engine running so she wouldn’t get cold. He came out of the store, drove home, and still couldn’t wake her. He left her in the car unconscious so he could do his laundry. He eventually realized something was seriously wrong. 

Demri was eventually brought in to the emergency room at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland at 7:30 P.M. – two and a half hours after she first lost consciousness. Her mother got a phone call from the hospital, telling her Demri was there. 

Kathleen asked the doctors if Demri could hear her. The doctors told her they thought she could. She clutched Demri’s hand and said, “Dem, if you have a choice to stay or to go, you don’t have to stay for me anymore.” During previous hospitalizations, she had always told her to fight, to to survive. This time was different. [1]

Jack Plasky: “The first time I met Layne was when he came by my studio after Demri passed. We hung out for about six or seven hours. We went through Demri’s pictures. We did not talk much, it was more like sharing with me his pain. He was not a rock god that day, just a regular person who wanted to share the loss with each other. We had a very strong bond based on our love and caring for Demri, and her feelings for us. I got a strong true feeling from him when he looked at Demri’s pictures, that life held nothing for him anymore.”

Ariel Layton: “Demri used to spend a lot of time with my girlfriend, Jana. She actually passed away in my friend Tom’s truck. I also ended up couch-surfing at Buddah’s around the same time as Layne shortly after she passed. He had photos of her everywhere, it was very sad.” 

Kathleen Austin: “Derek loved Dem so much and nothing she did would ever change that. He spoke at her funeral, ‘If my sister got on the ferry in Seattle, she knew everyone on the boat by the time it reached Bremerton’.”

Clay: “Demri, it’s been 13 years [March, 2009] since you went to be with Jesus and I still miss you so much sweetie. I’m so glad we got to share all the time with each other before you left us. When we prayed and talked about Heaven and The Lord, it still makes me think about how I look forward to seeing you again and being with you forever. I hope all the world knows you are with Christ now and your faith in Him, so they can have the same hope we shared. I’ll always treasure your Bible your grandma gave me, until we are together again. Love you always, Clay.”

Brochure from Demri’s memorial service, which was held on November 2, 1996. Shared by Marisi Sojit and posted by “Comunidad Alice in Chains Chile” Facebook group. Found via Instagram: memoriesofdemri (no longer exists)

Carolyn Hart Gutierrez: “She was one of the most amazingly trusting, compassionate, openhearted persons I’ve ever known, albeit briefly. We went to the same high school, and she was a friend of my younger sister. I have often thought about her over the years. It broke my heart to hear that she was gone from this Earth. I always imagined that she grew up and became a happy little momma who would teach her children to believe in magic and that if you wish on a star your wish will come true, and to dance in the rain. That’s what I believe. Demri may be gone, but she is never forgotten.” [2]

Krisha Augerot: "She was like the sweetest, cutest, tiny hippie chick – just adorable and gorgeous. Never would I have ever imagined what happened to her happening". 

Mara Whelan: “My dear soul sister, she extracted the truly beautiful parts of my soul and made me unafraid. She brought light into the depths of darkness from within. She loved all my ugliness and glorified my uniqueness.

Demri and I lived together, slept together as sister spoons, hitchhiked all up and down the coast and back and forth to Seattle from Everett a million times. We lived in Seattle together in multiple places. When we didn’t live together, even when the drugs came into play, we never lost each other.

She was the most beautiful soul that ever existed. What I would do to feel her hand in mine again.”

Barbara Dearaujo: “Demri was an artist herself, a model and someone who could always make you laugh. She was the type of person who when she entered a room full of people all eyes would be on her. She sucked the energy from the room and then blasted it back out at you and made you laugh and smile. She was so different than everyone else and everyone knew it who met her. Geeky, funny, caring, talented and unique girl who could of owned the world if she had not got caught up in what was going on around her. She was a star in her own right.”

*All the information has been collected from the "Memories of Demri" document shared on google drive*

Sources cited:

[1] Alice in Chains: The Untold Story by David de Sola

[2] Instagram: memoriesofdemri (no longer exists)

*VERY SPECIAL THANKS TO LITTLE QUEENIES AND MEMORIES OF DEMRI*

Some great Demri sites you MUST check: 

Little Queenies tumblr blog - Demri info

Little Queenies' collection of Demri's photos hosted at Google Photos

Memories of Demri document hosted on Google Drive

Videos of Demri hosted on Google Drive

World of Demri on Instagram

World of Demri substack blog

Demri L. Parrott on facebook

Demri L. Parrott on Instagram

Demri Lara Parrott on Instagram

Demri Parrott Legacy on Instagram

Beautiful Demri Blogspot

[dwarfsized]

author quastions

tagged by my beloved @aevallare i love you. mwah mwah mwah

When did you start writing?

I've been telling stories since forever. I have notebooks upon notebooks, going back to when my handwriting was illegibly terrible, with stories that were also. terrible. but baby leetle was trying. and bigger leetle is still trying.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I think i wouldn't want to try writing a pure sci-fi story? and i love reading those.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

uh maybe Mary Oliver, the poet? i come back to her work over and over again. I also love Tamsyn Muir's blend of absurdism and gut-punch. I'd be very happy if someone compared me to either, but I try to just be myself when I write.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write in my living room on my laptop, curled up like a shrimp on the couch. this is bad for my back (and the rest of my body) but if i sat Correctly i think i'd die.

I also write on my phone Whenever and Wherever i have an idea.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

:') go do stuff. read books and poetry, watch movies, take a walk, see your friends, go to a new grocery store, experience something. you can't pour from an empty pitcher, and you can't write when you have nothing in the tank. At least, *I* can't write.

If you just want to be putting words down every day, you can also try having multiple projects. This wont mean that any of them get finished. But you'll be able to pick and choose what you work on and possibly muster up creative zest for something on any given day if you have several irons in the fire.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

That you will change and you can't do anything about it. That you can't go back, not really. That everyone is working with their own information and biases and that fucks things up, even when they mean well.

The one that surprised me was "looking for a sense of belonging" because, hey. Can I stop putting that in stuff, please.

What is your reason for writing?

Because I have to. I have no other choice. The stories have to come out.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

All comments rule but there's something really special about ones that quote something from the fic that they liked in particular.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

"wow she's really a freak about this concept huh (affectionate)"

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

i think my internal monologue rules and i think about worldbuilding a lot

How do you feel about your own writing?

i like it. i can see the cracks but when i put something out there for people to read, ive really worked hard on it. I'm proud of the effort i put in.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

mostly its about what i want to write, because i cant stay motivated otherwise, but things like troubled thoughts that are love letters to people (hi alex) are total joys. that was so fucking fun. cant wait to finish parts 2 and 3. :)

i tag @mutualcombat and @again-please and @lyzelky and @kittenintheden and @septemberskye sorry if you've been tagged already im in a con vortex rn

[transmasc-advice-blog]

I want to come out to my family so I can get support and things that would make me happy (boys clothes, binder ect.) but I'm not ready to change my pronouns or name cause that's scary and I'm worried if I keeping going by she/her they won't take me seriously and just ignore it.

mod arlo: first, figure out if they support trans people. like bring up a celebrity or friend that is trans, and see how they react. if they are transphobic, i would say dont come out. i know that really sucks but if you are put in an unsafe position physically, emotionally, or financially because of it, thats not worth it (if you think it is worth it, and you have a support system outside of your family, then maybe go for it.)

next if you figure out that they are supportive, sit them down or write a letter/text. if you think one parent (sorry im assuming you have two) would take it better than the other, then tell them first, and plan for two to talk to your other parent. you could say/write “hey [mom/dad/parent], i need to tell you something. i have been thinking about this for a long time, and ive realized that im trans. this means that i am not a girl, and being referred and perceived as a girl makes me really uncomfortable. i understand this might be a bit shocking for you, but i need you to understand that i am not a different person. im still your kid, i just identify as [nonbinary/boy/genderqueer]. right now i dont want to change how you refer to me, so [given name] and she/her are still ok. that might change in the future.”

if you dont want to fully come out to them, you could say “hey [mom/dad/parent], i think i want to experiment with dressing a bit more masculine, could you help me get some more masc clothes?” or if you are out shopping with them, you could suggest going to the boy/mans section.

i hope that if you come out it goes well!

mod vince: you could also tell your parents/guardians that you are exploring your gender identity and want to start messing around with how you express yourself. meaning clothing, binders, etc. you can tell them when you come out that you want to go slow, but tell them that doesn’t mean you aren’t trans or that you won’t want to change your name/pronouns in the future. communicate how you’re feeling! be direct with what you want and what you don’t want.

[night-dark-woods]

5, 7, 15 for the fic asks!!

thank you!!! this got extremely long.

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oooh hm. idk about Never, but ive been rotating the idea of Chalco and Aunor interacting bc the different ways they orbit around Ikora FASCINATE me, and the things that have been asked of them are very different. it would have to be epistolary i think and while i DO think i have enough primary sources to get their voices and values alright (letters from Aunor etc, and then WQCE my beloved), im not confident in my ability to do epistolary, & also i'd need something specific for them to argue about (that i also am interested enough in to litigate thru character POVs).

i've yet to decide if I'm accepting the TFS ending cutscene panel where Ikora is using strand, bc im suuuper ambivalent on Ikora using any darkness subclass- i need to re-listen to a bunch more post-campaign stuff to see how i feel about it, bc i know she talks to Mara a LOT in mission voicelines, and i think a lot of their past conflict has been over Mara's antipathy towards the Light & focus on balance over sheer faith in the Traveler (not religious Faith-faith, as we've talked abt before, bc i dont think Ikora sees the Traveler as a *god* like Zavala does- it's like gravity or thermodynamics its simply *true,* and can be explained. its not something that requires faith or sacrifice.)

but if i decide to accept that as canon then i think that would make a FASCINATING argument because Aunor has been Ikora's hunting dog for YEARS, cold-blooded killer putting down guardians who fall to darkness, and i think the sheer betrayal (from Aunor's POV) of Ikora changing her position on that would cause SUCH a crisis of faith for Aunor (what does that mean for what she's done in Ikora's name? what does that mean for how she can live with the weight of it?), and i think constrasting that with Chalco being Ikora's right-hand man (her silly rabbit / does she call you that / no) BUT without the blind loyalty that Petra has for Mara ("you are not the queen and i am NOT one of her cadre") could be sooo fun bc it wouldn't be a simple "Aunor mutiny Chalco loyal." i just dont know if Actually Writing it will provide more enrichment for me than just rotating the concept in my head.

that got long!!! and also ive partially convinced myself to work on it eventually lol.

anyway. that's the main one that i can think of, that isnt a "this scenario sounds hot BUT i dont want to write it bc there isnt enough character work to make the logistical nightmare of writing porn worth it" LMFAO

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

5-ish?

- Elsie&Amanda (nicknamed "horsegirl movie but its a robot with dysphoria") where Elsie needs help fixing some part of her body and she can't do it by herself for some reason and then has to deal with the fact that Amanda regards her body with a simple honest appreciation that Elsie will NEVER feel for herself bc of when and how she became an exo!!! her own mother calls her body a "walking lazaretto" and she watched her father die horribly for this technology!!! god!!!

- Ikora's fight with Madhir & how she let him eat her ability to want anything. god. Ikora Rey woman that you are. also inspired by the way the demon works in dunmeshi bc i think the Ahamkara should work more like that. fuck monkey's paw genie trick wishes, getting exactly what you wished for and in doing so losing part of Who You Are is so much better. the Ahamkara aren't evil tricksters they are PREDATORS they are the very tippy top of the food chain and as dunmeshi says. to eat is the sole privilege of the living. there is no moral weight to that no matter how violent and that makes the violence of it far more interesting!!!

- somewhere between 3 and 5 high-concept porn fics, 2 at WIP stage and several that may or may not get written, all Petra-centric bc i (and Jackie) love to put that dyke in situations (all have Mara/Petra/Sjur as a given established relationship, the two WIPs are focused on Mara/Petra and Petra/Sjur & the ones that may just stay as ideas have bonus Petra/Amrita(/other corsairs) & Petra(/Sjur)/Amanda)

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

song lyrics mostly!!! often the one i was listening to a lot while writing/thinking about it, or one that makes me feel like that post thats like "song that reminds me of my favorite character comes on and i make the most unwell expression known to man."

the problem is i want the vibe of the whole song to mostly fit which means i've recently become aware that i nearly exclusively listen to sad music, apparently, bc i could not find a Single Song i like that fit the very fluffy/conflict-free Amanda/Sloane fic i wrote recently, so instead its both a line from the fic and a bit of a pun on the content lol: follow-through (impact play)

[swifty-fox]

mmmmm gimme that 18 and 22

18. from that one WIP thats no plot just vibes

all my MOTA fic is plot but ive got an old wolfstar supernatural murder mystery i abandoned

Remus is dreaming. Or at least he thinks he is.

It’s the type of dream where he can feel the tips of his fingers and the weight on his chest and every single molar in his jaw. The type of dream where dread and horror and fear sit in his lungs and prevent him from drawing breath. 

He is buried alive. 

He can feel the rich fertile earth covering his body, taste the clay and silt in his mouth. Crawling, desperate, hungry things slither over his body. He can hear the sounds of their chewing in his ears and he wants to scream only if he opens his mouth that will let them in. His flesh rots, his eyeballs melt out of his skull. The skin around his lips turns wizened and desiccated, peeling back from his teeth like the pages of a book.

Remus is bones, is decay, the worms feed on his decomposition and snakes slither through the latticework of his sternum. He breathes, and his lungs fill with mushrooms and soft nesting things. Butterflies alight on his corpse and sip the sweetly soured decaying flesh. There is a buzzing in his mouth, a soft wet bumblebee struggling to get out.

He opens his mouth. Mud fills his throat. The bee ceases her noise and a giant black spider emerges, scuttling past his lips and into the forest. 

His parents are screaming his name, screaming for him. To run. To fight.

Fight it, fight it Remus, you have to fight it.

Remus opens his mouth. He opens his mouth and the spider escapes. He opens his mouth and the hungry things come pouring in, devouring him from the inside out. He opens his mouth and screams.

There is a bird who sits on a tower. With beady eyes so clever. Who sees the curling petal. Of every single flower.

A boy is staring at him. A boy with blue eyes and blue lips and blue, bruised, dead skin. His palms are stained and his body is bare, dehydrated and loose-limbed like a porcelain doll torn from its stand. He smiles at Remus with bloody, perfect teeth.

22. that is so blissfully indulgent

me hwne Gale angst and also he loves John

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.” 

He glances up at Bucky and it's the other man who averts his gaze this time, face paling. He sits down heavily across from Buck and rubs a hand across his mustache, still avoiding eye contact.

“I meant to.” He finally says then laughs sharp and bitter, “I musta put pen to paper a thousand times. But I- well. The words just wouldn’t come. Figured eventually I might as well drive out and fetch you back with me.” 

Gale's anger stutters and then goes out completely, leaving him hollow. Of course, of course he wasn't the only one with memories that nipped at his heels. And John, the man that he was, had decided to do something about it for the both of them. Who shouldered a sixteen hour drive because of course a letter wasn’t good enough, he’d already chased Buck into the heart of enemy territory, what were a few state lines?

“John Egan,” Buck drawls, “always to the rescue.” Bucky laughs, a genuine noise that sounds so foreign in the cold bare kitchen.

John was fake on the surface and all real underneath. Real bravery and real heart, a man who jumps on an armed German guard to save his friend. Who volunteered on the next mission out all because his friend had been shot down. And Gale, well he was just the opposite wasn't he? All real on the thin top layer and below that nothing much of substance. A good soldier, a good leader; good at being a man in all the ways that garnered approval and respect. He honed it to perfection, perfect responses full of bravado, not too harsh but not too intimate either. But below that…there was very little to behold. No matter how many times the other guys told him, he told himself, there would always be the fact that John faced down armed guards and Buck ran

[talon-dragonbeast]

hii um feel free to skip this but I kind of need help

so I'm recovering from a huge tr*scum phase and I have realized that maybe kinda sorta I'm otherkin?

but I come from a huge therian hate phase and part of me is still stuck with bigoted beliefs-

before the wave of hate I identified as a furry but I think I'm feeling more and more like I'm otherkin or voidpunk even (I was voidpunk for a long ass time before and it feelt so nice)

I just don't know what to do with myself :( what if I'm otherkin? what terms do I use? how do I get over my hate?

how do I do this? do I need to have like an alter ego or something? how does it feel to be otherkin?

I'm sorry for so many questions and feel free to redirect me someplace else if you can't or don't wanna answer all of this

-🐕

hey, first of all, congrats on being able to leave your hatred behind! that must've taken some guts, im proud of you bud.

now, you are considering a new identity that you were previously taught to hate. thats amazing! but also hard. so, how to figure out if youre otherkin? the answer will vary from person to person, but for me, its a deeply ingrained part of my identity. when i started questioning myself a year ago, it was because i realised that it didnt feel good to call myself human. it didnt feel right, like i was lying to myself. i tried different species labels, to see what fit me the most, and when i found the draconic community it clicked. ive been calling myself a dragon for little over a year, and im happier than ive ever been!

if you think you may be otherkin or otherwise nonhuman, there may be a few signs that point you towards that. why did you start questioning? maybe you felt something wasnt "right" with you or your body, maybe you have instincts or urges that arent completely human, maybe you feel like you have or that you should have certain body parts that you currently dont, maybe you feel a certain connection towards a specific creature, or maybe you just... dont feel human!

i want you to take a piece of paper (or your phone if thats easier, but i feel like writing with a physical pen on a piece of paper makes your thoughts flow better), and to write down all that. make a bullet list, a little essay, a letter; hell, another ask for me would work too. make doodles on the margins when you cant think of anything else to write. draw yourself, draw the body you wish to have, draw the birds on your window or the pen youre writing with. dont worry about the correct terminology, about what nonhumanity is "supposed to feel like" or about how stupid you think this is. this is your journey, not anyone else's.

and when the feelings of hatred or cringe come up again (and they will come up), treat them like any other intrusive thought: acknowledge the feeling, validate it even if its a bit misguided, and then gently push it aside. dont get me wrong, its good to remain a bit skeptical; a critical mind is a healthy mind, after all! but theres a line between critical and hateful. one is useful, the other blinds you. i encourage you to learn as much as you can; hatred often comes from fear, which often comes from ignorance. to get over the hate you must kill that ignorance with knowledge. but dont worry, the community can help you with that!

since you asked, ill leave you some definitions under the cut if you want to take a peek. i strongly recommend you to not get caught up in terms or definitions though; figure your identity first, and then you can learn about the rest later. ill also leave a link to the alterhuman archive, in case you want to read about other peoples journeys:

otherkin: an umbrella term for people who identify as a nonhuman being on a psychological/spiritual/physical level, partially or wholy. the term is popularly used for beings that come from mythology such as gryphons or fairies, but it doesnt have to be. this identity is usually involuntary, and it cannot be turned off at will.

therian: shortened form of "therianthrope", its a term for people who identify as animalistic beings on a psychological/spiritual/physical level, partially or wholy. therians can be earthen animals that exist or have existed on our planet like lions or cows, or mythical beings that are more animalistic in nature such as dragons (some of these use the label theriomythic, but it isnt necessary). this identity is usually involuntary, and it cannot be turned off at will.

fictionkin: people who identify as a fictional character or species on a psychological/spiritual/physical level, partially or wholy. this identity is usually involuntary, and it cannot be turned off at will.

otherhearted: people who identify with a nonhuman or fictional being, instead of as it, to the point that it becomes a part of their identity. includes things like wishing you were this being, feeling like its your family, feeling represented by it, etc. this identity can be spiritual or psychological, and its usually involuntary as well.

copinglinkers/otherlinkers: people who voluntarily choose to identify as a nonhuman or fictional being, either for coping reasons, for confort or for any other reason. this identity is completely voluntary, and can be turned off as necessary.

[mikeyswayy]

hey, uh. hi. yeah. sorry i dont know why im doing this. im pretty sure youre dead. god i hope you arent. maybe this is just the digital form of visiting someones grave eh? yeah, i dunno. its lonely without you. keep wanting to tag you in things, god i fucking wish i could still tag you in things. i was a little scared to send this one, even just to write it, but id rather you be alive and proving me a fool for writing this than dead. maybe with my luck the universe’ll wanna make me look stupid so bad that ur actually fine. i miss you. ive been waiting the past few days you know that? waiting to be wrong waiting for you to come back waiting for this to be like the other times, but its been four days now. i just. i hope you found peace man, i hope if you are dead its better than anything ever was back here, you deserve it.

while im here i figure i may as well catch you up on everything goin on, not anywhere near as good as getting to freak out about it on here with you but i think its the best im gonna get. so basically a couple days ago frank posted five random dates in the shape of the mcr logo and that was. jesus frank. the dates are 11/13, 2/16, 3/7, 2/24, and 12/6. i now live in fear. and then today the official mcr account posted a picture with a background that looks reminiscent of paper kingdom, oh god, 150 peices of,, ash? confetti?? falling down over large red letters that spell out a backwards k and then cr. so basically. going insane over if this is mcr5 or not. fuck youll never get to see mcr5 will you? fucking scary, feels wrong to get excited about it without you. i hope youre okay, i really fucking hope youre okay and all this is for nothing i hope youre in the hospital because soneone found you before it was too late and you just cant have your phone because of it, i hope you didnt even do anything and youre just staying off tumblr just anything, please, fuck man you have to be okay alright?? im scared, i really miss you, i know we werent that close or even close at all but you mean do much to me alright i need you i need you to be fine. i hope you see this. oh, on the topic of not being close, i uh. never learned your real name. i made a small patch with your username and put it in the left breast pocket of my coat, i hope thats alright. wanted you close to me and all

i think thats it, so uh. this is goodbye i suppose. i didnt get to say goodbye before. saw your post 2 hours late. it hurts, i try not to get too caught up in the what ifs though. its hard. so goodbye friend, until next time. i hope to see you again. i love you.

I'm not dead!

I'm sorry I scared you like really badly but I'm okay

What happened was I like almost didn't but I didn't go deep enough to do any real harm to myself

I cut a little but not the full way so I'm fine but if I had went all the way I would probably be gone bc no one did like come in my room for a while after

I've just been staying off of here and not really posting because I didn't really think anyone would really care if I was dead or not

But I know you do

Also I really appreciate you saying what's been happening with MCR thank u

I know abt everything but still u telling me is really sweet, thank you

The patch is really nice, thank you

I feel like doing something similar since u did that and I probably scared the living shit out of you so yeah something with ur user maybe idk is that weird idk

I love you too man

I'm really sorry for scaring you I just didn't know what to do that day and I'm sorry for not really posting anything after that 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤