#im shattered im gone my soul has left my body

[gredegi]

[CLOY SPOILER]

[sketchquill]

YOOOOOOOOO! FIRST YOU GOTTA BE ONE IF THE MOST TALENTED ARTIST I HAVE EVER SEEN!! SECOND YOUR GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE IS GIVING ME BRAIN ROT! And it got me thinking!

This being inspired by art that I just literally saw a minute ago by alice angel12x! With their idea of ghost of Christmas present yn!

The scene

Frank could only look at the ghost with fear as he watched them grow older by the minute. The once bright and cheerful spirit that stood tall among the crowd now appeared centuries older, their wooden skin was chipping and rotting away like an ancient oak that had been left to grow on dying soil their labored breaths showed how tired they had became but their hood hid their face from the puppet leaving his blind to their appearance but he was certain that it had changed as well. His heart ached for the spirits well being, it was thanks to them that he was able to see the warmth of the town surrounding him for so many years, a warmth that soaked deep into his bones that he never wished to forget.

He knelt down by the spirits slumped formed worry and fear filling his eyes " spirit? Please say something! Is there anything I can do?" He asked, he begged, for as much as he knew the truth, he wanted to remain naive for a little longer.

" I'm afraid cough! There isn't much you can do for a spirit dear frank, my being is far beyond your control. Its my own fault really, I saw hiw happy you were seeing everyone that I had forgotten my own limits and now I fear my time has come"

You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as tears slowly stared to fill franks eyes. "N-no please please this cant be! There must be something I can do!" For the first time in years frank is willing to put someone else's well being above his, the idea made you smiled weakly underneath your hood.

"Theres a heart underneath that all that doom and gloom after all huh? Thank you dear frank but im afraid im already gone" you glance up at the swirling snow that surround the both of you. While frank paid no mind to it, you watched as the wind grew more aggressive causing the most beautiful sight before you mixing with the cruel glow of a blue haunting light.

" My darling, you're already here? Im afraid im worst for wear" you spoke to the air it seemed as you forced yourself to stand up. Frank tried to get a hold on your arm to held you steady yourself only for your arm to shattered into dying splinters that blew away with the wind.

Frank finally noticed the blue glow when it suddenly became like a large bonefire at the destruction of your arm but you could inky laugh as you walked on shaking legs, knocking your hollow knees together with each step.

"No there's no need for that! You cant blame a boy for not knowing, there is so much for him to learn and it is best that you take me place dont you?"

You spoke with confidence as you pulled down your hood causeing frank to lose his breath. Your once beautiful hair made of leaves had disappeared and wilted into brown dying vines that left you into a balding state, cracking lines spread across your face their source was from the now empty socket that once held one of your bright warmth filled eyes.

You look up at the hooded figure without any source of fear or worry in your entire body, something that frank was envy about as he felt fear shake his entire soul at the towering figure.

Your remaining arm reached up to the figures face, reaching into the inky blackness of the hood with some effort revealed the soft gaze of a yellow felt face that looked down at the spirit of christmas present with warmth and sadness within his eyes.

" what-what is this?" Frank asked in a shaking voice but you only could chuckle.

"No one can help who they love frank, be they a puppet or a spirit such as us. There will always be something that will block then from one another" it was almost like you were speaking with the wind, your voice rising and falling with each sound.

You slowly turned your body more fragile than a porcelain doll would as your body slowly splintered and cracked more but a smile filled with warmth still remained on your face, as if he wasnt the cause for your breaking state.

"My last kindness and his warning frank frankly, this could be your last Christmas."

You shattered, bits of wood and cloth blew through the raging wind turning into small sparks of light that were swallowed by the darkness of the winter night. Frank could only stare in awe at the sight of your dissapearing form unaware of the tears that slowly left the hooded figures eyes.

I GOT REALLY INTO THIS AND I DONT CARE MY BRAIN JUICE WAS FLOWING! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND I HOPE YOU DONT MIND THE SMALL ROMANCE I GAVE TO GHOST WALLY AND YN! THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!

IM GOING FERAL OVER THIS HOLY JESUS THIS IS AWESOME I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF READING THIS LIKE- AAAAA AND THE LIL’ MOMENT BETWEN GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT! Y/N AND GHOST OF YET TO COME! WALLY BEFORE Y/N SHATTERS IS SO UNDENIABLY SWEET BUT OH MY GOD IT PULLED AT MY HEART STRINGS 😭💕💖

@alice-angel12x ALICE GET OVER HERE YOU GOTTA GET OVER HERE AND READ THIS BRO 👏

[machiavalium]

Today at 2:06 AM

What else can i say. It is and isn’t goodbye to her. But it’s goodbye to my LOVE. to love. To the way I saw love. To that feeling and that ache and that need to be near her and the chemical addiction that makes me crave her scent and her form in my arms and her weight on my chest. I know I love and want other things but it’s like warm candlelight next to the sun. I am moving from the sun. My sun. It’s so fucking erpetually cloudy here and I know that going in. It fits me and my head and the way it’s just clouds and dust and moisture. I don’t know what else to do. I have to get out it’s burning and blistering me my hands have lost their strength. Lost their grip. Lost complete feeling in my hands bc I was holding on so tight and she slipped right out from under me and I didn’t even notice bc I was so numb and and paralysed and locked into her. I’m sweating and peeling and rotting and the flesh I’ve ripped from her seering skin is so fucjing raw and tender. How can I care for this beautiful caring star when I’m so raw and rare and tender. Everything hurts. Kissing hurts me touching hurts and putting him to sleep..oh I guess that’s it.

Why did I have to give her my love my life she has it all. I gave her every single way I knew how to love. I gave her every spare moment of seven entire years bc I didn’t know what else to do and why it would be worth it and why I’d ever want anything else. Some part of me that’s bloomed into someone else Kinda always was afraid of this. That isI've given too much and she owns my soul. That I would have to start anew, learn to love in a completely different way I’ve never done before bc I wouldn’t have. Shred of it left. I’ve gone back far and ripped myself to pieces trying to peel the dead skin off. It’s dead. It’s so dead. It’s dying and dead and dying and rotted. Decaying away from my bones as I held it together through the force of my body on hers. Reeling and shattered and regressed to someone I barely remember and don’t know how to be.

I had made a resinperson and I wanted to be them. I saw goodness and happiness and purity and kindness and so much to give in them. I made someone I felt she deserved and then she didn’t.

Fuck me.

I made a person that I thought she deserved and she DIDNT.

I miss laying in strangers living rooms and staring at the ceiling and counting the stars I could see dancing in front of me. Writing poetry in my mind id never taste again. I miss the loss of control and helplessness and feeling free and boundless in that death. There was nothing to lose, only something to find.

I found her and I never felt that way again

Boundless. Death. Feeling Alive. I don’t know what it all means it’s a tangle of stabbing emotion making a cocktail my body cannot stand. My body hates me for loving her.

Today at 2:17pm

im high and its sunny.

[2:17 PM]its always sunny someday

Today at 10:14pm

flow. let go

[10:14 PM] Sail ᚄ

[kirkfall]

putting the L in LGBT

this is just the first part of my DND / Curse of Strahd character’s backstory. his name is sopping fucking wet. i love him.

length: ~3.1k

They’ve been choking on the mist for what feels like decades; the dead have been piling at their feet for even longer.

There’s something about this shithole that Sop can’t put his finger on—something beyond its suffocation and the masses of the undead that have been clawing their way out of the dirt for days. Something far more sinister, like turning to find the path they’d taken gone, or finding themselves turned around in the woods at least five times before they finally managed to escape it.

Something like the hissing in the shadows. Or the figures that Clara swears she sees, just at the edge of her sight, but never catches.

“I can smell evil,” she’d noted, grimacing and wrinkling her nose as if she’d tasted something unpleasant. Maybe the vomit from earlier, when she first dug her hands into the soil to feel out the space. “But I can’t see it.”

Sop understands that, sort of. He’s studied, examined, and healed the dead, the undead, and the dying—respectively—long enough to know something is wrong. There's nothing he can see beyond the skeletons being shat out at them, nothing he can hear beyond the scrape of their bones as they stumble across fields, nothing he can smell beyond death, and death, and death.

But he can feel it. Sop can feel an unease just underneath his feet. It radiates through the land. Like a poison—slow acting, lethal, hard to detect. Hard to identify. Seeping into the veins of the people living on it, making it near impossible to save a fucking soul. It’s an energy he’s never felt before. Something ominous and malicious and entirely wrong.

Something like the bodies piled up before them having fought for their lives—only for the latest toxin of the week to snuff their lives out.

“Any survivors?” Sop sits back on his heels, hands dropping to his sides as he releases his spell. Shakes the remainder of it from his fingers, tries to ignore the feeling of blood underneath his nails. The woman wasn’t going to make it from the beginning—none of them were. The undead were rising fully armed, something that the average family is woefully unprepared for.

“No.” Graves’ voice has a light tremor to it. Sop lifts his head, gazing up at his friend—his free hand is wound tightly into the fabric of a cloak, war pick tossed to the side. His shield is still up. Shards of bone are embedded in the metal—remnants from the undead shattered by Bane’s spell. “The father died fast, I saw ‘im go down. I tried to save the kids.” When he looks up, Sop sees the torturous grief etched into his eyes. “Three of ‘em.”

Damn. “How old?”

Graves shrugs. “Maybe ten, same as my kids back home. Didn’t stand a fuckin’ chance.”

He hears Bane’s low whistle behind him. “Looks clear,” she calls over, “Lawson went to finish off the bastards who ran into the woods.”

“Told her not to go alone,” Clara adds, exasperated. “Never listens to me.”

Graves’ laughter, though hollow, makes it easier to breathe. “Eh, she never listens to anyone. You’re not special.”

“That,” she says, “is not what your mother said the night we left town.”

“S’that the truth? If memory serves, your father—”

“Alright! Okay,” Sop pipes in, lifting an arm to wipe the blood from his forehead. He won’t be able to do much—maybe a minor healing spell, what with the way he’s fucking exhausted himself—but he should check. “Everyone alright? How are we looking?”

“I’m okay!” Bane says, a bit more cheerful than any of them have any right to be. “Sexy as hell, too.”

Sop can’t help but snort. “That’s because you put yourself in the middle of a storm and blew up most of the skeletons, Bane. Nothing touched you. Probably not even the bone dust.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Damn right. What, are you jealous?” she asks.

“Remind me—when was last time you cast a spell that didn’t nearly kill one of us?”

“Hmm.” Bane pretends to think about that for a moment. “Probably a year ago. Before I picked up shatter.” Her shoulders droop, lips slipping into a pout as she points a finger at him. “No one’s died!”

“Then no. Holding onto the fact there’s still time,” Sop says, solemn and as serious as possible. It lasts only a moment, after which Bane flicks a couple of sparks in his direction. He blows her a kiss that she pretends she doesn’t see. “Clara?”

“Twisted my ankle,” she complains, lifting her leg to examine it. Scowls, but shrugs. “But you and Graves kept me right the hell up. Kiss it better in a bit and I’ll live.”

“Done. Graves?”

“Fuckin’ drained.” Sop looks up at Graves, who grins at him through bloody teeth. He drags himself up, hand pressed to his side and his own weapon and shield lying forgotten on the grass as he stumbles toward his friend.

“Where is it? How bad?” he asks.

Graves’ lips are set in a grim line.

Sop puts a hand on Graves’ shoulder, shifting to force eye contact. “Where?” he repeats, and then a bit more gently: “I’m going to cast the spell anyway—but it’ll be more helpful if you’d stop being stubborn and tell me—”

“Back.” he grits out. Immediately, Sop gives his shoulder a light, comforting pat, and shifts around to peek at his back. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, and his hands are shaking. Sop isn’t sure if it’s the exhaustion or the fear—he knows this isn’t good. Yes, they’ve been injured in the last three days. Minor injuries—cuts, bruises, a mild concussion—but nothing serious. Nothing life threatening. Nothing like whatever it is that Graves doesn’t want him to see. And Sop, for the millionth time in the last three days, doesn’t know that he can save him.

Graves’ wrist catches his arm, jerking him back. Graves meets his eyes, and Sop can see it in his eyes that he knows it’s bad.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” is all he says.

And then he lets go. His handprint adds to the mess that the woman’s blood left all over his clothes and his skin. Sop pushes it down—something to think about later, or preferably never, and moves behind Graves.

He finds an arrow, cut clean through his armor. The chain mail and the leather underneath. Deep. It explains the blood—and why Graves was hesitant to let him look.

“Bane.” It could just be a standard arrow. It could be poisoned, or barbed. But without knowing who fucking fired it it, Sop can’t even guess unless they pull it out. He turns, looking over his shoulder, and shouts a second, more panicked “Bane!”

She’s crouched at his side in an instant, one hand on Graves’ shoulder to keep him steady. The other hovers over Sop’s shaking hands. “Right here. It’s gonna be okay. Small spell, good as new. Right?”

“Yeah,” Graves pipes in, voice lower and raspier than a minute ago. He spits blood on the ground. “S’what I heard. Got the best fuckin’ healer right here takin’ care of me.”

“We need to take the arrow out. Where the hell is Lawson?” Sop glances over his shoulder, toward the woods. There’s no sign of her yet—he looks over at Clara, standing a few feet away and looking lost. “Clara?”

“I’ll find her,” she says, glad to be given something to do, and then she’s gone.

“Don’t worry about Lawson,” Bane tells him, reaching into her pack for a waterskin. She pours the water over her own hands, and Sop offers his own for the same. “She took down an entire camp of bandits on her own. Couple of bones in the woods? Easy. What first?”

Sop tries to remind himself to breathe. He remembers Elias, back home—the arrow had pierced his front, but it was a similar enough procedure. Arrow comes out, healer steps in. He’s just not sure that their combined strength will be enough for this, and he’s fucking terrified that whatever poison is killing these people has had enough time to infect them.

Arrow comes out, healer steps in.

“Arrow comes out,” Sop says, forcing his voice to stop shaking. He shifts back around to his friend’s side, laying a hand on his neck and turning his face toward himself. He waits until he knows Graves sees him. “Graves, we need to take out the arrow. It’s going to hurt, but you—you’ve already lost a lot of blood. You’ll probably pass out.”

Graves scowls at him.

“Shut the hell up.” He knows that look. It’s the same one he turns on the others when they’re about to waste a spell on healing him—when there are more important things and people who need that strength. “You’re not fucking dying. We’re getting the hell out of here and retiring.”

“Knew you wouldn’t last five years.” Graves spits out, a smile still on his face.

“With you four? You’re lucky I’m here now. I should have fucked off after the first bar fight.” 

He can do this. He’s done it at least once before—just not in a land where healing magic won’t stick, or the dead refuse to stay that way.

Bane shifts, holding Graves still as Sop wraps his hand around the arrow.

“On three?” she suggests. Sop nods.

“One,” he says.

Bane meets his eyes. She nods, murmuring a prayer under her breath—the color drains from her eyes, a glow spreading down her arms. “Two,” she breathes.

Sop braces himself to pull the arrow out. “Three,” he says, and—

A bloodcurdling scream echoes in the woods. He feels the magic slip from Bane’s grasp, hears the sharp intake of breath as she recognizes the sound of it.

Clara.

“Get his shield.” She’s moving before Sop even finishes saying it, abandoning one of her daggers for the bloodied shield. “I’m going to take this out and heal it myself. You’ll have to—”

“Are you out of your mind?” she snaps back at him, but steps to the side to guard them anyway. “You’re running on empty, and I saw your side.”

“I’m fine. Take a potion, it’ll close right up. But if I don’t do something now, Graves won’t be.” Sop doesn’t wait for her okay. He yanks the arrow out with one hand, grateful that Graves is already unconscious, and murmurs a healing spell under his breath as he tosses it to the side. He imagines the threads of a tapestry—torn, but fixable. The thread of life can be woven back together, organs stitched and blood replenished. It only takes a bit of patience and a hell of a lot of energy. He pours his into the wound, forcing flesh and bone back together through sheer force of will.

But it doesn’t close.

Blood seeps through where Sop’s hand is pressed against the wound—slower, perhaps, but not nearly enough. The spell took hold. It’s just not enough.

He’s about to call out to Bane when a figure bursts out of the woods, a hand is pressed to their throat. Their arm is covered with blood—their entire body is drenched in it. It takes him a moment to recognize them, but—

“Lawson!” Bane drops her blade, sprinting to meet her halfway—Lawson collapses against her with a sharp cry, and Bane hugs her to her side to drag her back toward their safe spot. But the sound of movement in the woods doesn’t stop. “Sop, check her. Give me status.”

“But Graves—”

“Is already fucking dead, and I get the feeling the rest of us will be very soon if we don’t get our shit together.” She’s right. Sop hates himself when he lets go of Graves, lying him down on his side to ease Lawson to lie in his lap. He can’t see shit with all of the blood—he lifts a hand, mumbling a quick apology as he summons water above her head.

And drops it on her.

She sputters, flailing for a brief moment, but meets Sop’s eyes a second later. Her breaths come in quick, terrified pants, and it pains him to ignore it in favor of looking for wounds.

“Sop?” Bane asks.

“Scrapes from the trees,” he says, framing Lawson’s face with a hand on either side of her face. “I don’t think most of this is hers, Bane. I don’t see any major wounds. We need to find Clara—”

“No,” Lawson breathes, nails digging painfully into Sop’s arm. His breath catches in his throat at the sheer terror in her eyes. “No, no. Clara—Clara, they—oh, god, there was so much blood. They’re coming, they can smell her blood.”

“Who?” Sop asks.

“Her throat.” Lawson’s voice is small, shaking. More afraid than he’s ever heard. “Ripped it like fucking paper, oh god.”

Sop doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to say to that. It could’ve been an animal, but that wouldn’t have spooked her this much. And it sure as hell wouldn’t have taken out the nature cleric. There’s not been an animal alive—or undead—that Clara couldn’t persuade to hang out with them for a while.

Whatever’s out there—whatever rustles the trees, making the leaves and trunks groan and shake—Sop is a bit terrified to find out.

“We need to get the hell out of here,” he says.

“We can’t!” Lawson grips him tighter, and Sop can feel her nails breaking skin. But what the hell is he supposed to do? Throw her off? “No, we can’t leave her—we need to find her, and—and maybe we can bring her back—”

Sop wishes he could. He wishes he could give himself for it, breathe his life into Clara and Graves so they can live. Because he can’t watch this happen again—he can’t let them die again, not when they deserve live so much more than he does.

“Law,” he starts, voice soft. He tries to fight the pity and agony that seeps into it, but realizes it’s pointless. “We can’t—”

“Sop.”

His gaze snaps up to Bane, who is studying the forest intently. He follows her gaze to the now still and silent forest.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she says slowly, “but I don’t think the woods are supposed to be this quiet.”

No, Sop thinks. No, they’re not.

“And things were definitely moving just a minute ago, yeah?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Sop says.

The realization seems to smack something into Lawson—her grip on Sop loosens, and he inhales sharply as the air hits the new wounds. Ignore them for now, he tells himself. There’ll be time when they all get out of here. 

“They’re here,” she whispers, both horrified and horrifying.

“Well,” Bane exhales, rolling her shoulders. “Time for round two.”

Sop’s throat is tight. His own weapon is too far away, and the strength he has left is hardly enough to heal Lawson’s insignificant wounds. “Don’t do anything stupid.” he tells her.

Bane doesn’t look back at him. “Who’s gonna stop me? Graves? You? Someone’s gotta make it back home to take care of his kids, Sop, and it’s not gonna be me.” She hesitates. “Listen. When you get home, tell my parents—”

The silence breaks.

A dozen figures spill from the void of the woods, fangs and claws dripping with fresh blood. His stomach turns as he realizes exactly what they’re facing—and it’s no surprise he didn’t realize it or detect them sooner. The energy surrounding them, the masses of the other undead—it would have been more than enough to cover their trail.

“Stay back!” Bane shouts, raising her shield—thunder rumbles overhead, threatening and warning. A promise of death, should they come any closer. The vampires growl and hiss as they stare up at the clouds, and wisely make no moves against them.

“These bastards killed Clara,” Lawson says, and Sop lifts a hand to her back as she starts to sit upright. The whole of her is shaking as she reaches for Graves’ abandoned weapon—he can’t tell if it’s fear, shock, or anger. A mix of the three seems likely. “I will take as many of them down with me as possible.”

Sop doesn’t know what to say. “Maybe—”

“No,” Bane interrupts. “No maybes. No miracles, no gods. It’s just us.” She turns away from him, jaw clenched. Her voice breaks when she adds, “It’s always just us.”

Lawson drags herself to her feet. She takes up Sop’s abandoned shield—puts herself next to Bane and looks back at him. The fear is gone, overwhelmed and overpowered by vengeance and anger. A feeling all too familiar for every one of them—anger at the world, at the gods, at the people who left them. At the people who took them away. At themselves. “Stay down,” she orders. “Or I will hit you with your own shield.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sop says weakly.

Satisfied with the answer, she turns back toward the vampires. “COME ON, THEN!” she screams, bashing the war pick against his shield. One vampire snarls, taking the taunt—it lunges forward, invading their space in the blink of an eye.

Lawson buries her pick in its eye, shoving it to the ground and yanking its head off with a guttural noise. Its blood splatters over her, over Sop’s shield, and the ground beneath them.

“WHO’S NEXT?” she challenges. Because they’re already going to die—things can’t get worse from here, can they?

The vampires, clearly, accept the challenge. There’s a movement between them, like a wave as a mutual decision is made—and like a wave they stumble forward, a tide of destruction.

Lawson swings her pick up, murmuring a quick spell under her breath; a beam of dark, pulsating energy bursts from her hand, blasting a vampire back a few feet. The second beam hits as it tries to regain its footing, leaving in its wake a gaping hole where organs might have been. That is, if they hadn't disintegrated, or weren’t spilling out onto the ground.

That gives the rest of them pause. Pause, for a few moments.

Then they remember that there are three worn adventurers and ten of them.

The air becomes tight and prickles with raw power as the undead surge forward, and Sop has just enough time to rip free a thread of magic to weave a shield of pure faith around himself—faith in the people that he loves, rather than a god who watches idly as their followers are cut down—before lightning strikes and Bane’s rage shatters the world around them.

[dollmother]

5/25/24

her scent, the ghost living under my bed. i am haunted, hunted everywhere i go no matter how much my mind tries to banish her. free me, free me from this cage i’ve laid in. i no longer wish to feel this way, yet.. at every hint of her presence my body reacts viscerally. i can feel my chest tighten and breath tremble around her. i wonder why this is one of the responses i have no power over. despite my needs and wants, this dear vessel betrays me at every turn. there has not been a single moment of respite where thoughts of her left me alone to be at peace. there has not been one day where i have not held her closely to my heart. my mind, body, heart, soul are my limbs. they all move at their own whims, but do they ever collide? i resent that this is what has become of me, prisoner to the ghost of her. i think it over quite often, if i had the chance to redo the past eight months since we’ve met…

i believe i would have stuck with my initial choice to reject her advances. we would have remained just friends, nothing more—companions at a distances, cities apart. i would have stayed in california, and she in D.C—we would have never met each other face to face. or stared longingly at each other’s beaded gaze against the backdrop of sunlight. i still remember the very first time we met in the backdrop of philadelphian sunlight. i think we were both in shock to some extent, emotions buried but not completely hidden. she was just as tall as i expected, had the same awkward stance and smile i’d always known. she did not shatter my illusion from our time behind the electronic screen. in many ways that comforted me. knowing that she was exactly who she always was, i felt joyed in her company. her voice was the same yet, it felt so much different when you could trace her every word on those lips. i knew there was something about this person that would leave me entrenched in our bond. during this time we were just friends with no romantic inclinations towards one another. or was there? was there a tension that i completely ignored because i was distracted by someone else? did i void i try to fill with kat erase the bond we once shared? maybe in that moment i was blind to it. maybe during that time of our first meeting we had a mutual yet latent yearning for one another. i saw her for the first time and i knew something had changed in me. then now, almost two months later things would devolve and turn into this…

sometimes it is difficult to accept that our situation would resolve like this. we aren’t on speaking terms anymore. now it feels as if we are strangers, barely acquaintances that happen to live in the same house. that is our curse, to share the same home, after things have gone so terribly wrong. i have cut the string that tied us together. there isn’t  a single way (that i could think of) to mend this severed connection. but ultimately, that’s how the story ends and we all have to accept that. i believe she has. to be resolved and accepting of how we end. no reconciliation, just a break. whether or not it is clean is up to me and what i choose to do. it pains me to admit that i still harbor deep feelings for her. no matter how hard i try convincing myself im over it—her scent haunts me. then my chest starts hurting whenever she’s closing by.

if it were up to me, i would not feel this way. i’d rather feel nothing towards her than this. now if given the chance, i could return back to the moment when we first met and block her. i think it was inevitable that we would’ve caught feelings for one another even if we tried being just friends. i think i would’ve had to avoid meeting her in the first place …then

then none of the horrible shit that happened between us would’ve happened…

then again, none of our happiest moments would’ve existed either. i would be okay with that. i’d be okay, really—to not have any memories with her and she of mine.. we would’ve carried on with our lives in ignorance of what could’ve been, and what will come to pass. while i could scroll through our past conversations, our texts, our exchanges over discord, our dms on insta and tiktok…god. just so many moments we shared. is it worth all this pain to live knowing what we had together? or is it better in the bliss that we never locked eyes? i don’t know. my life now would’ve been entirely different had we not. i wonder when i’ll be free. if this feeling will ever pass. it most likely will, there’s no way she can linger over me like that? i’ve gotten over everyone i’ve felt this way about in the past yet…. i don’t know. somehow she feels different. i don’t believe she’s like the others at all. is that a crime to admit? this is a fatal wound. i’m not entirely sure i’ll ever truly recover. 

[dream-a-little-longer-1]

Hello! I recently discovered your blog and I absoletaly love your content. I wonder if you can do William with gender neutral s/o is similar like Sebastian Michaelis from Black butler/kuroshitsuji, where s/o is a demon and William makes a contract with them, but in return s/o will eat William's soul when his goal is fulfilled, here s/o plays a great butler , they can do anything, always obeys William's orders, and is always by William's side protecting him ,I hope you understand what I mean. ;)

Hello!!! (^._.^)ﾉ

Oh gosh im so sorry for such late reply!!!im so busy these days I've barely had time to scratch my head haha!!!!

I've only watched a little of the black butler,but i would do my best!

I hope you enjoy it!pls leave a comment so ik if you liked it or not (• ▽ •;)

✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.

I sole my soul to the devil (dont want it back) :

Warnings : slightly spoilers for the last ep of the anime? *Scratches head* i think , light angst, character death for like five seconds,super happy ending

"so you agree to the contract?"

"these things matter nothing to me. You can eat my soul,or shatter my body for all i care. But you must help me fullfil my dream."

These words still echoed in your head even after almost two decades had passed.

Perching on the balcony's railing and looking down boredly at the people passing by in hurry beneath your feet,you couldn't help but to sigh;your master had ordered tou to stay outside and not show yourself unless the emergency calls or he himself calls out for you.

You sigh again and lean back slightly to stare up at the sky;it has been a cloudy day so far,and the weather was now colder than it was in the afternoon. The sky is already turning dark, considering the gray clouds surrounding it.

You cant help but to frown;William was going to get sick if he stays out in a weather like that.

Your gaze shifts to the people down below in the streets,now lesser than before; everybody going home or seeking a shelter from the weather that clearly promises a really hard rain. You wish you could've gone home sooner,and do something instead of waiting out in the cold. Although it doesnt bother you,it still makes you irritated and bored.

But all your thoughts come to a halt when the whole world suddenly grows quiet. You dont know its whether because you're a demon,or just your bond with him,but you know that William's in danger before anything happens.

Then,you see it,and the breath that you dont even need to take gets trapped inside your lungs;up on the bridge across you,a figure get thrown,but before falling down snatches at the bridge floor, barely clutching to life on the edge of the stones.

It could be anyone,heck, it could be the person William was going to fight with (some old man from government who's been killing children left and right for fun,) its hard to say with the black cloak he's wearing. But then the figure turns his head,and his single ruby eye makes contact with you.

You hear his voice before he can even scream.

'save me.'

Then,he falls down.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion. As a demon,you can just teleport yourself to places you want,or travel at the speed of light. But that moment,the mere seconds that you froze,William had already fell down and just when you blinked to open your eyes to the place he was supposed to be,you find the rushing water under the bridge,smooth like nothing has ever happened.

Like William didnt fall into the river just then.

You dont need to breath,and you're glad; because in that moment you would've stopped breathing from the panic that was filling your lungs, suffocating you until you choked on thin air.

you took a deep breath,and closed your eyes. When you opened them next,you were already under the water.

When you laid William's motionless body on the shore,you were freezing and your whole body was trembling violently. You knew it wasnt because of the cold water sticking to your skin,you knew it was because of the man laying on the ground,his skin deadly pale and not breathing at all.

William James Moriarty was dead,and his sould was now yours to claim.

Feeling your body thrumming with the new energy,the soul bonding curse coming to an end,you couldn't help but to let the tears fall down from your cheeks.

You were William's demon,true. But you helped him because you loved the man,not to claim his soul.

Your breath hitches as an idea comes to your mind;what if you didnt accept his soul? It was yours now,wasnt it?what if you.....

You glance down at the soaked man in your lap,and take a deep breath before bending down and-

You never imagined William's lips be this soft.

Breaking the spell,was exhausting and took too much energy from you. Returning the claimed soul was against any rules,but you would break every single one of them for the man you loved so much.

And when a loud gasp comes from your beloved,your eyes snap open only to be met with one single scarlet eye.

"y/n..."

When you let out a sob and bury your face in William's wet coat, there's a shaky hand stroking your hair, soothing fingers rubbing your skin.

"thank you...i love you."

Bonus : (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

You stare down at the silver wedding ring adoring your finger,as your friends adjust your white wedding dress.

When there's a knock on the door,you snap out of your daze state and look up to see Albert smiling at you.

"ready?"

When you nod and take his hand,he guides you to where you soon to be husband is.

William is breathtaking in his white tuxedo;with his golden locks pushed back and his scarlet eyes (now two,after breaking the deal) standing down the aisle. When you step towards him,his eyes immediately find yours and you can already feel yourself tearing up a litte.

as you take his hand and stand in front of him,he gives you a gentle smile and brings your hand up to his lips to press a loving kiss to your knuckles.

"thank you for catching me when i fall... I'll love you for eternity and beyond."

[bumbleklee]

Could you make a fic based on the song Moondust By Jaymes Young? With Xiao or Zhongli? It’s fine if you decline, I enjoyed your Lonestar fic a lot! Also, thank you in advance if you do this! ^^

after this, i decided im a monster. this is so sad, like so so sad. i don't know if this is what you had in mind but since the song is basically about learning how to live/love without someone, i went down a death route. i also went w xiao. pls enjoy (and grab a tissue)

before reading: ANGST!!! you literally die and are a ghost the entire time. mentions of injury and blood as well as self-harm and suicidal thoughts. word count is around 2.1k (under cut for length)

I'm building this house, on the moon Like a lost, astronaut Lookin' at you, like a star From a place, the world forgot And there's nothing, that I can do Except bury my love for you

Death was quick.

You know instantly that you’re dead the second you open your eyes. You can still remember the feeling of the Fatui pyro agent slicing his knife across your throat and if you think about it enough, your neck tingles. You remember falling to your knees, being laughed at, and then you saw nothing.

Well, you saw blackness.

And then when you came to, you were standing in the middle of Liyue Harbor. The world seemed duller but it was real. No one paid any mind to you, so you assumed you were a ghost.

It’s nice to still be able to watch the sun rise high above your hometown.

There’s no panic, no rush to find out what’s going on, you don’t need to. Your hands travel to your throat and the horrific wound is gone. In fact, all of the scrapes and bruises and imperfections on your body were gone. Death brings solace, you humor.

Your peaceful moment was interrupted by two frantic voices. They catch the attention of everyone in the area, including you, and you spin around quickly.

Xiao.

“Break the contract, please, Zhongli-” His voice is frazzled, filled with a sadness the living can’t understand. “I can’t live without them.”

You looked down at your left hand, heart shattering at the absence of the jade ring. Right. You were going to marry Xiao later that year. Not anymore.

A hundred thousand memories of sweet kisses and long nights flooded into your mind. They caused you to hold your breath, too many emotions crashing through your tired form. You felt like crying but couldn’t (ghosts didn’t have tears, you guessed).

You’re standing right in front of the love of your life and he can’t see you.

Maybe it’s a good thing he can’t see you because Xiao already looked wrecked. His eyes were puffy and red and his hair was disheveled. Unhealed scratches wound his arms like ribbon. You had been with Xiao for years, through the good and the bad, and never once had you ever seen him in this state.

He’s pleading still and Zhongli has an indescribable expression on his face. “I can’t,” His voice is barely a whisper, “You know I can’t.”

Xiao wails, falling to his knees. Zhongli feels his pain, you know he does, yet he won’t put him out of misery. You watch as Zhongli bends down and lifts the adeptus into his arms, swiftly walking away from the crowd. You follow ensuite and Xiao’s eyes are hazy, staring through you over Zhongli’s shoulder.

“I’m right here.”

But he doesn’t hear you.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

You begin to follow Xiao around. Not that he goes anywhere, too heartbroken to move, but you keep watch of him like he once did for you.

He resorts to staying in Zhongli’s apartment. The consultant isn’t around most of the day and Xiao rarely leaves his bed. His tears stain the satin pillowcase and he curls upon himself. Sometimes you stand in the doorway and stare, other times you muster up enough courage to go and sit on the unoccupied side of the bed.

The first time you touch Xiao again is at night. He’s crying and without thinking, you wrap your body around his. His chest is pressed against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder.

It’s not warm anymore. In fact, it feels like nothing.

But still, you hold Xiao until he’s asleep. You don’t let go all night, opting to watch your beloved finally get some rest. You wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of eternity? Would you follow Xiao around aimlessly for centuries more?

Or maybe you’re just stuck here. You recall a saying from an elder in Liyue years ago, “Spirits with unfinished business can’t move.”

You decided then that you were going to help him move on, help Xiao bury his love for you.

Nothing can breath, in the space Colder than, the darkest sea I have dreams about the days, driving through your sunset breeze But the first thing, that I will do Is bury my love for you

There’s no book about being a ghost. You have to figure it out on your own and you’ve never been more grateful no one can see you go straight through the wall for the third time that hour. Over time, you create your own handbook in your mind, jotting down anything you discover as your time as a dead person entails.

Within the first week, you understand that no one can see you, hear you, or feel you. And while you can vaguely touch objects and people, the sensation is different than when you were alive. Every human trait was thrown out the window - you don’t need to sleep, breathe or eat and drink anything.

You attend your funeral exactly a week after your body was discovered and someone propped your sword against your casket. You try to grasp it, to pick it up, but you only manage to push it over with a gust of nonexistent wind. It clambers to the floor, the funeral parlor growing silent, and you take this as your cue to leave.

You wondered if Xiao, or anyone of that matter, could sense you at least. Even if Xiao couldn’t see you, just him knowing you were there would ascend you to the afterlife (right?).

You also find out you can’t leave Liyue. There’s an invisible border keeping you trapped in the country and, frankly, you don’t mind. Xiao won’t leave Liyue so you don’t need to leave Liyue. But sometimes you get anxious that one day Xiao will leave Liyue and never return. And if you haven’t accomplished your goal yet, would you truly be stuck as a monster among men?

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

On particularly good days, Xiao talks to you. Zhongli was gone early one morning and Xiao pulled himself out of bed and to the living room, opting to open the blinds and see sunlight for the first time in weeks.

You sit on the coffee table with your legs criss-crossed as Xiao mumbles desolate words.

“I keep just wishing I would wake up dead. I miss you so much.”

You frown. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

But he can’t hear you. “You aren’t here to make me laugh at your stupid jokes anymore. And I just...I should have been there! I should have-”

His voice cracks and you move off the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his quivering body. You try to press yourself against him, squeeze your arms so tight that he’ll feel you, but you can’t. You can’t kiss his chapped lips and move your bodies so he’s curled into the crook of your neck.

Sometimes, you watch Xiao hurt himself. He digs his nails into his arms or thighs until he draws blood, only to push it all away and scream into the ground. You want to snap him out of him, tell him to stop doing that to himself, but you can only sit and stare.

You were nothing to Liyue - a common human who added nothing of importance to society. Yes, your death was sad for many people but the world kept turning. Xiao, on the other hand, was so special. He was the Vigilant Yaksha - the people of Liyue needed him forever.

“I miss you. I love you. I miss you.”

I'm a cast away, and men reap what they sow And I say what I know, to be true Yeah I'm living far away, on the face of the moon I've buried my love to give the world to you

Xiao goes out sometimes. It’s either to patrol the city or on a walk with Zhongli. It’s not much but it's an improvement. Like always, you follow him.

He’s started to have nightmares, waking up in a rush. He used to comfort you when you had nightmares and it pains you that you can’t return the favor. You try, by God, you try. You run your hands down his back comfortingly but Xiao only cries harder.

When Xiao sees Ganyu for the first time in months and she gives him homemade almond tofu, he smiles. It’s small and quick but you see it.

Growing up, you had thought that the living mourned the dead. When your grandmother died, you felt broken for a while, but that pain was minimal compared to this. Having to live endless days as an invisible soul while the living grieved was unbearable.

When no one is around, Xiao breaks down. He hurts himself, insults himself and wishes for you endlessly. When Xiao tries to jump off the roof of the apartment complex in the middle of the night and survives with only an injured arm, you realize he’s pushing his body. He’s trying to kill himself.

So, you scream.

Every waking hour of the day you scream.

“I’m right here, Xiao! I love you and I’m right here! I’m sorry for being careless and getting killed but you aren’t ready to join me yet!”

You know he doesn’t hear you, he can’t hear you, and yet Xiao slowly stops hurting himself.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

It takes a year for Xiao to finally begin to cope with your death and you know your journey will be coming to end soon.

He still talks to you except now it’s hopeful and filled with acceptance. On the anniversary of your death, he travels to the Dragon-Queller early in the morning. He sits down in the spot he used to take you to and rubs the grass softly, as if motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You do.

“I’m leaving Liyue next week.”

A million feelings run through your veins. You want to throw up, scream, cry. Is a week enough time to get Xiao to move on from you? Had he already moved on? There were too many questions you couldn’t fucking ask.

You can’t bear to listen to the rest. Your feet travel on their own, taking you far away from Xiao and back into the heart of Liyue Harbor. You didn’t know where you were until you heard a voice call out for you.

“Hey, you!”

You were imagining voices now. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Y/N!”

A short, young woman came into your view and you finally looked up. You had walked right into the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hu Tao was staring at you, not through you.

“I knew you were still here.”

Hu Tao could see you.

It didn’t make sense but you didn’t have time to make it make sense. Without thinking, you cried out to Hu Tao and begged her to help you save Xiao, save yourself.

“I want to go with him,” You say.

“But you can’t.”

“Then he’s going to forget about me.”

Hu Tao chuckled softly, “You think Xiao would forget about you?”

You don’t answer. Maybe it was you that didn’t want to forget about Xiao. Either way, it hurts. “He’s going to fall in love with someone new and-”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

It was. You wanted Xiao to be happy without you, to learn to love again. You wanted him to bury his love for you so you could both be free.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hu Tao says, “Xiao will find you again one day.”

She clasps her hands together and reaches them out to you. You look down and see a moving image of Xiao. He’s still talking softly, this time with a small smile on his lips. You close your eyes suddenly, not wanting to see anymore. You step outside of the funeral parlor and whisper “I love you” into the wind.

The sun is shining high in the sky when Teyvat begins to disappear from your vision.

Maybe in another life you and Xiao will spend forever together. You’ll have a grand wedding, start a family, and grow old together like you should have. But for now, you’ll see him from the moon.

[sendyefrogs]

saudade

a/n: WELL. im back! *confetti pops out*. i mean, kinda hehe, apologies im absolutely swamped with school and my degrading mental health :). n e way, this is LONG, because i’ve missed writing a lot <3  wrote this for @sykuui, this is long overdue babe tw: verbal and (probably) physical abuse, kuroo just being a gigantic dick, dont come after me pls ily, cheating, swearing word count: 2K (word vomit ;-;) pairing: kuroo x gn!reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

What keeps you up at night?

Gentle snores, his soft hair brushing your arm, muffled breaths reminding you that the world knew not of the Kuroo that slept by you at night, unburdened by the worldly dilemmas. For just a few hours every night, he was yours, through and through, in your arms while the clouds drifted across the jet black sky with no destination, and the moment seemed to freeze.

Love, love for Tetsuro, is what kept you up, and it would never have once crossed your naïve mind that love is what would break you, keeping you up, not for the love you felt, but the love that was torn from you.

Simple signs would not tell you what happened, it came crashing down on you all too quick, for he was proficient at hiding it, behind his caring smiles and affectionate touches. His love wasn’t as pure as yours, he did not yearn for you as you did for him, and it showed, eventually enough. The cracks in the relationship built up gradually, slowly but prominently, too wide for either to bandage up alone, and that is how you found yourselves; alone.

He did try to provide for the both of you as best he could, being the sole income earner, and it didn’t always end well when you expressed that maybe he was too occupied by his office for your liking, unable to care for you as he once did throughout high school, when he was attentive to you no matter when you beckoned.

“Tetsuro, welcome home!” You’ve had a long day and not nearly enough time with your husband, deprived of his peppering kisses and gentle strokes of your hair. You get neither, receiving just a simple grunt, and it is clear he has had a grueling time as well. “Dinner is ready when you want it.” He nods slightly, not making eye contact with you yet, his hair appearing even less groomed than usual. You stand on your tip toes to kiss his forehead, but he shoves you away, harder than playful, glaring at you.

Maybe it’s just weariness, but he makes no attempt to apologize. You blink back the sting of tears, walking towards the kitchen to serve the food that you had learnt to make for him. He’s just tired. I’m sure he didn’t mean to push me away. That was the first tear, in the loosely woven fabric that was your relationship, that began as high school sweethearts but was now, you realized only later, becoming too stifling for Tetsuro.

The steam rose of the bowl of rice and curry, curling around your jawline as you carried it to the tall figure seated at the table, with his head in his palms. “Do you want to talk now, baby?” Your question is only answered with another sound of fatigue. You seat yourself beside him, curling your arms around his bicep, watching him lift the spoon to his mouth, trying to make him comfortable. You wanted to show him that you’d be there when he wanted to share his exhaustion with you, never occurring to you that maybe, it was exhaustion of you that plagued Tetsuro’s mind.

“Y/n, can you please be quiet for once?” It was barely a whisper; you weren’t sure if you heard him right.

“Huh?”

“Just shut up for once, god.” The tears stung again. What was with him today? He seemed genuinely mad, but you didn’t know what you had done to make him behave like this.

Little did you know, it wasn’t actually you, but the idea of you. Kuroo had grown to be frustrated with his daily routine, tired that every day was the same, that his life had lost that spark it had when he peaked in high school, your presence monotonous and the marriage empty. He didn’t want it.

“Tetsuro, why would you-?” His hand swiped out, knocking the bowl off the table, a gasp erupting from your mouth. In that moment, all you can think about is to get as far away from him as possible. There is an uncharacteristic bitterness in his eyes, directed towards you as you lie in his line of vision. You flinch as he raises his hand to run fingers through his hair. Without a second thought, he spits his frustration out at you.

“Y/n, I’ve had a long fucking day, and I don’t need you to make it even worse with your constant questioning.” The chair slides back with a scrape, not unlike the scrape of his words against your soul. There is, and always has been, an insecurity bubbling away in you that maybe you aren’t good enough for Tetsuro, maybe he deserves better, maybe you are too overwhelming for the calm male that now stands enraged in front of you.

“You need to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, because no one wants to listen to your endless whining. I get it, you need constant reassurance that you’re the perfect partner, but I couldn’t be fucking bothered. And you sure aren’t perfect with how clingy you’re being right now. So shut up, and leave me alone.”

Kuroo knocks over a jug of water on his way out, slamming the door over the sound of it shattering as your sobs rack through your body, dry but hard enough to hurt.

Being furious wasn’t a thought that occurred to you, and whether this was his fault made no difference, because it was yourself you blamed when you found him the next day, with his secretary, the bento lunch you had packed him, to resolve the night’s arguments, spilled over the wooden floor, much like the shattered pieces of your heart.

What broke you, was that there was no chase; Tetsuro didn’t come after you, didn’t try to convince you to stay, didn’t try to explain that this was a mistake, didn’t even try to salvage a nine-year long relationship that he tossed out the window of his high-rise office building, not a single second glance back at the spouse that had supported him through his struggles, through thick and through thin, comforting him when things got tough, consoling him as he lost matches, lost money, lost old friends.

Gratitude wasn’t something he had ever considered. You were always there after all, there to ensure that he was happy, that he was content with his unchanging life, the responsibility of being his unpredictable little spark of excitement weighing down on you.

You were gone that night, with hurriedly packed bags, worn out spirit and tears streaming down your face, sparkling as they dripping onto the marbled floor, sparkling like the diamond of your wedding ring that you left behind on the counter top, with one last admiring glance. It was worth a lot, but not enough for what you were being put through. And recognition of that fact is what liberated you, to start your own life, without a Kuroo Tetsuro.

What keeps you up at night?

Y/n. Bubbling laughter and affectionate aura. Everything that was gone, that now made Kuroo’s life… empty; as empty as he had left the relationship, as empty as the void that was once filled with y/n’s warm smiles, that he now attempted to fill with anyone who would throw themselves at him.

A different face to wake up to everyday, but none of them yours, the only one he longed to see, heart aching as though it might burst out of his chest to find its rightful place with you.

The day after you left, he had had no idea that his life would crumble without you, the backbone around which he organized his life, the foundation for his happiness. He knew it was unfair to put the expectation of his functioning on you, but he did it anyway, and without you, he couldn’t wrap his head around the concept that was independence.

“Tetsuro”, his seventh secretary in two months waltzed into the room, carrying a stack of files, discovering him with his head in his hands, glaring up at the one who dared use the name that you had so loving adorned upon him, the word only perfect on your tongue. “Do you want me to spend the night again? You seem tense.”

Kuroo growled, at the audacity they had, suggesting that they were even worth attempting to comfort him like you did. With a swipe of his hands, he knocked the files off the table, standing up to spit his frustrations out at the secretary.

But one glance at the look of apprehension on their face made him buckle, reminding him of the very last night he spent with you, broken jug, bowl of curried rice upside down on the floor. You; cowering from him, frightened of what he would do to you, flinching as he raised his hand.

Dry choking sobs left his mouth, you were afraid of him, the person you had loved more than life itself, given up everything to make happy, and he had never even uttered a word of gratefulness.

Realization engulfed him, leaving him on his knees. He hadn’t shown you how much he loved you, forgetting or simply just ignoring you.

No wonder you were gone, because what was there to stay for, in the dead-end life that you lived, without a loving husband or self-contentment? What had he done? Why had you stayed for so long?

Why had you stayed up all those nights for him?

Tetsuro never could forget about you, the absence of you gnawing away at him, slowly taking over his life. The final straw that broke him irreparably was you, at the national volleyball match that you attended, not for him, but as a sports reporter, beaming in pride in your professional outfit.

Your independence is what did it, because if you could live without him, it mean you would never return. And why should you, after everything he had done, why should you when you had finally found yourself, why should you when there was nothing to return to?

His eyes followed you around, trying to take in as much of you as he could. Interviewing people, smiling at them, the warm smile that was once only for him. Suddenly, your eyes locked, and he froze, standing close enough to see the hurt swim in yours as you lay them upon him, and the moment was over just as quickly as it began.

“Hajime!” What? Why were you yelling out his name, jumping into his arms, fondly glancing up at him with that adoring look, completely forgetting about the one man that had been missing you for so long? Why weren’t you running back to him instantly? Did you not love him?

But Kuroo knew the truth.

You did love him, just, not anymore. He had lost you the second he took you for granted. And he wanted to yell that he would never do it again, come back to him, please just stay with him, he will always love you.

He couldn’t. The beam reaching from end to end of your glowing face, words bubbling over as Iwaizumi held you close, it was too bright to interrupt. The sparkle in your eyes not unlike the diamond that sparkled on your wedding ring, the one he still kept in his pocket, in hope that you would one day, return to him, forgive him, love him again. But-

Kuroo knew that he didn’t keep you up at night anymore.

[irondadfics]

I’m looking for fanfics where Peter is Tony’s biological child and he goes missing/gets kidnapped as a young child. He is raised by someone else and doesn’t know he’s Tony’s son. I’ve already read Lost Boy and Things I Almost Remember on archive of our own and I wanted to find stories with a similar plot.

WHEW! It’s kind of a long list, but we did our best finding several fics that feature both BioDad!Tony and Peter being kidnapped at a very young age. ENJOY!!

PETER IS TONY’S SON BUT THEY WERE SEPARATED WHEN PETER WAS A CHILD REC LIST

Lost Boy by winterda

Isaac Stark disappeared from a crowded park a few months shy of his third birthday. There were never any signs of him, and no arrest were ever made in connection to the case. It was as if the toddler had simply vanished off the face of the earth. Twelve years later, Peter Parker has a really bad day, which only get worse when his prints are put through the system.

Things I Almost Remember by IcedAquarius @icedaquarius31​

Peter's past is not as it appears. It all starts one day with a genetics project and slowly spirals into something Peter never could have imagined.

hydra's not a home by tempestaurora @tempestaurora​

At 6 years old, the son of Tony and Pepper Stark, Peter, is kidnapped, never to be seen again. Or, so they thought. Ten years later, while raiding a HYDRA base, the Avengers come across a new, enhanced individual, working for the enemy: in black spandex, with a tendency to stick to walls and shoot webs from his wrists, the Black Spider is a pain in the ass in more ways than one.

If They Knew All About You by MsHermia

Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high. Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.

Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.

------

This is an AU story obvious by some of the tags. I'm starting out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing. Other than that I'm not too concerned about sticking to every canon detail and storyline.

Finding Their Way Home by ElliahRose

Peter Benjamin-Edward Stark went missing on a Tuesday. For months the entirety of the New York police department, as well as anyone else the Starks could convince to join, searched for the tot. He was only three when he was taken and for four months, two weeks, and four days, Tony Stark and Pepper Stark (nee Potts) worried and fretted over their beloved child.

Peter Benjamin-Edward Stark was murdered on a Friday. A ransom call gone wrong spelt the end of the child’s life. The world grieved as the kidnappers gleefully told the devastated parents they’d find his body in the morning.

They never did.

Twelve years passed and the family was still grieving, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly to find his only child’s killer and gain justice for his son.

Meanwhile Peter Parker was having literally the worst day ever. He just wanted to help make the world a better place, but instead he got stabbed. That's just his luck, isn't it?

missing, presumed dead by hailingstars @hailing-stars

They hadn’t had a funeral for Peter.

There hadn’t been a casket or a service inside a church.

There had been, before Tony decided in his heart that Peter was gone, candlelight vigils and pleas on the media for whoever had taken him to bring him home. Neither of those did any good. Neither of those brought Peter home.

OR

Tony Stark's son gets kidnapped when he's two. Twelve years later he comes back.

I told you to be better (and you became the best) by HaruK

Tony was blessed with a healthy baby boy, and for once in his life, was actually happy. Until everything derailed and he had to send his son away to keep him safe, because those related to the Stark family, one of the worlds biggest and most targeted families in the black market, always end up hurt. With a new name and identity that Tony himself doesn't know, the young baby was wiped off the map, his existence erased, never to be heard of again. . Years later, Anti-hero Iron Man meets a local superhero vigilante and Tony becomes surprisingly close with young Peter Parker.

The Curly-Haired Boy In The Paper by Svn_f1ower @svn-f1ower​

When Tony sees the blurry, grey scale photograph of someone he thought he had lost years ago, he follows the trail to a newspaper company, to a hospital, to an adoption agency, to the police station and finally to May Parker's house.

hold him tight & don’t let go by jessicagoddamnjones @farremoved

Peter Stark went missing when he was four years old.

Eleven years later, he’s found.

Only now he’s Peter Parker by day, Spider-Man by night, and he doesn’t like the idea that his entire life is a lie.

Rise from the Ashes; Just to See You Again by Mintstream @iwritedumbshit​

Tony Stark didn't expect Mary Fitzpatrick, or the news she delivered. He didn't expect that he would become a father, or that he would actually enjoy it. He didn't expect Penny to love him just as fiercely as he did her.

He didn't expect to lose her so soon.

In the wake of the loss of his daughter he tried--tried to do right by her. He became Iron Man, he was an Avenger, he protected his world because he couldn't protect his daughter, but through it all, he hoped to be reunited with his daughter.

He didn't expect to be alive when he was.

AKA the biological daughter kidnapping AU no one asked for. Hope you read, and hope you enjoy.

Updates on Saturdays.

Coming Home by inkinmyheartandonthepage

AU – Peter Stark was kidnapped when he was just three years old. Tony and Pepper never stopped looking for their boy. Years later, Peter finds his way back home.

A Change In What We Knew by Imissyoutoo @imissyoutoo

Tony scoured the floor behind Steve as though his one-year-old son had somehow crawled to him, before finally, he looked up. The realisation dawned on him like an eclipse; the decaying darkness hiding the sun. Hiding his son. Because his boy wasn't there.

”Where is he? Steve? Where's my son Rogers?!” At only a year old, Tony Stark’s son is taken, leaving him shattered. Little does he know, his journey to find what is lost only begins twelve years later. In the most unlikely of places, and all because of two words.

”Hey kid.”

I Found You by honestchick

Tony had a son; he raised him for two years until someone kidnapped him. Tony was devastated and heartbroken. And who would have thought in Starks Expo, he’d be able to see his son once again?

move back home forever by chasingflower @evahmohns

The results say he’s not actually Peter Parker.

They say he’s Peter Stark. You know, the one who’s been missing for 10 years.

Yeah. He knows.

Soon You'll Get Better by lostinmorewaysthan1

Peter Stark was kidnapped. That was all anyone knew. He vanished into thin air, no traces left behind, when he was eight years old.

Six years later, on one of the final raids on the HYDRA bases, they find an enhanced assassin, with super strength and the ability to climb walls. No one imagined that it would be Peter. Least of all Tony.

With no memory and brainwashed by HYDRA, Peter Stark goes home and tries to recover.

Let This Road Be Mine by CommunicationFlail

Ten years ago, five year old Peter Stark disappeared. When the trail went cold, the case was closed. Now new evidence has been brought to light and Tony will stop at nothing to get his son back. No matter how many fakes he has to meet. His son is out there, and he will find him.

Return to me, the one I love so endlessly by SuperHeroTiger @superherotiger

James Edwin Stark was born on the 10th of August 2001, and for the first time in his life, Tony Stark cried tears of joy.

All the fears, all the dread that had once consumed his soul washed away with a single look at the baby’s gentle features, so familiar and yet so distinctly unique at the same time. Tony made many promises that day. Promises to love his son, to protect him, to always be there for him.

On the 10th of August 2002, James Edwin Stark was stolen in the middle of the night, and his father’s world came crashing down. Shattered and alone, Tony whispered the same promise he’d made to his son the day that he was born.

‘…My love for you is endless…’

Fourteen years later, hidden away from the world in a forest of pine, Peter Beck would dream of a day he might get to see the towering city of New York. And when a wounded stranger stumbles onto their property a week out from his birthday claiming to be a famous billionaire from New York, his dream might just come true.

Once Lost Now Found by FreckledAvenger11

Peter Parker was just trying to get used to life without his uncle. He wasn't expecting to find a familiar face in an article about Tony Stark's missing son. Follow Peter on his journey to discover just who he is. Is he Peter Parker? Is he Spider-Man? Or is he someone else entirely? Just who is he and what secrets died along with his parents in that plane crash?

So He Walks The World Alone by Miola014

This is a story 'bout a broken boy With his headphones in just to block out the noise Of everyone around him telling him the way to go So he walks the world alone Wondering if it gets better Or if he's always gonna feel empty forever So he gets lost tryna find another way back home As he walks the world alone

Or

The Kidnapped Peter Stark AU that I promised y'all!

[george-fabian-weasley]

Fred Weasley — Helplessly Part 3

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred was rushed to he muggle hospital for better treatment of his injuries. While in a coma, his soul stayed with you for a couple of months. He watches as you went through the stages. And he watches when you start to write a song, just for him.

Words: 2, 681 words

Warnings ⚠ : I don’t think this fic will have anything BUT sadness and constant pain and heartbreaks sdhsjd im sORRY

Disclaimer: This one... hurts a lot

TAGLIST FOR HELPLESSLY: HERE

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 (COMING SOON!)

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CHAPTER 3: I'll Follow You

He woke up alone. 

Fred Weasley woke up with no idea where he was. ‘This… This isn’t Hogwarts?’ he thought. The fluorescent light above him was a bit bright, yet he didn’t feel like he needed to adjust his eyes. Fred blinked, wasn’t he in the middle of a war? The last thing he remembered was saying words to Percy before-

Before the walls.

He tried to move, and was surprised that he can, with complete ease. ‘Wow, and here I thought getting crashed by walls would hurt a lot.’ He thought, scoffing a smile. How the bloody hell did he feel no pain? Absolute brilliant! He sat up from the bed, looking around, looked like a hospital ward.  

Strange, he’s in a hospital but he didn’t feel any pain. Was he visiting someone? That’s not likely, innit?

And then Fred heard the constant beeping. He looked to his right, there’s a peculiar machine showing a line going up and down. Then his eyes darted to a wire connected to it, and then followed his eyes until the very end.

A hand.

Fred tilted his head, slightly confused. He blinked a few times. He just woke up in a hospital… And he saw a beeping muggle tech machine… and now there’s a hand…. Whose hand is it?

He looked to the hand, that hand looked awfully familiar, looking like George’s. But George’s hand is less calloused than this one. So naturally, Fred sees the owner of the hand when he turned around.

It’s… It’s him.

Fred felt the blood draining from his face, his heart felt like it did a somersault and a fucking split to the ground.  He instantly jumped out of the bed in shock, his eyes were the size of two golf balls. Even with bandages, he knew that was him.

It… It could be George, though. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window. He’s lived with the man all his life; he knew they were both very different physically. Fred was, rightfully to be frank, terrified.

Why was he there? In bandages? If that’s him, then what the hell is he doing standing here?! Fred walked closer to ‘himself’, thinking to himself that this might be some prank George pulled on him, Polyjuice potion and all. Upon thinking that, Fred relaxed; actually convinced his brother was pranking him.

“Ha, ha. Funny.” Fred muttered; a relieved smile painted upon his lips. For one second there, he really thought he had gone crazy. He looked around, “Oh, Georgie? Where are you, you little git?” He sang playfully, chuckling to himself. This prank was a great one though, he had to admit.

Fred’s eyes darted back to the man on the bed. He smirked to himself, wondering who did George had successfully coaxed to drink that nasty Polyjuice to turn into him. His mind instantly thought of you, and his smirk widened.

“Oh, goodness. Why is there another me here? I wonder?” Fred faked a shocked voice while simultaneously walking closer to the man, whom he had convinced himself was you under the Polyjuice potion. When ‘you’ didn’t react, he chuckled a little bit more, “I know it’s you, darling. C’mon now, trying to prank Fred Weasley? The prankster himself? Really, love?” 

He reached his hand to touch ‘yours’, only to realize his hand literally went through it. Fred frowned, he reached again. His hand went through the other hand, again. At first, Fred thought this was some sort of magic going on, a hologram at some sort, but the one who looked like a hologram was him.

“Bloody hell-“ Fred inched away fast; his feet stepped back a few steps in newfound fear. He looked around hastily, “This isn’t funny anymore, George. Knock it off!” He shouted across the room, yet nothing happened. He looked back to ‘you’, “Y/N, you can wake up now. This isn’t funny.” When ‘you’ didn’t react, Fred gulped. “Y/N!” He called again.

“Fred!!!”

Fred snapped his head upwards, his heart dropped at the sound of your wail. “Y/N…?” He whispered in horror, eyes darting back to the man on the bed, “Who the bloody hell are you…?”

Fred heard your scream again, and quickly without any thinking ran out of the ward, looking left and right at the unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, he saw Bill. He was with Fleur, looking distraught and anxious to the group of nurses at the counter, who instantly got to their feet, some calling the doctors while some followed Bill and Fleur.

He instantly followed them, “Bill!” He kept calling his older brother, but Bill didn’t seem to notice. Fred was far back, yet he kept calling for him. “William Arthur Weasley, you deaf git!” He muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. He grew more anxious when he heard your screams getting louder, “Fred!!!! Let go of me!!!”

“Y/N?! Y/N!!!” He shouted back, he had lost Bill among the people, yet he kept following until he reached a ward. “Freddie!!!!” You were screaming, with tears non-stop scrolling down your cheeks, a strand of saliva was visible at your mouth, showing how many times you had called for him.  

A group of doctors had pinned you down, and quickly injected you with something, making Fred furrowed his eyes in anger, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” He shouted. He looked at the surroundings of the room, everyone was there. 

Why was Molly crying hugging Hermione? And why was George just standing there? 

“George! What are they doing to Y/N? Why aren’t you doing anything?!” He shouted, yet George seemed to ignore him. His heart tore apart every time you screamed his name, you were looking very distraught, and scared, and anxious.

He literally ran to be beside you, kneeling to the ground, “Y/N, love, I’m here.”

Yet you kept crying, until it slowed down, “Please, I need to see Freddie… He almost died in my arms, please…” was your last whimper before you passed out. Fred frowned, “Y/N, darling, I’m here! I’m not dead, I’m here-“

His hands that were to cup your face went through you.

Feeling fear right about now is the understatement of the century. Fred had never felt so horrified, in his life. Not even when he was fighting the Death Eaters a while ago, not even when the walls shattered him. This… This is terrifying.

He turned his head to the group of people who were now lifting unconscious you back to bed. He stood up slowly, gulping as he took in your state. You had heavy eye-bags, your skin was pale, and you looked exhausted. Yet you never failed to make his heart flutter at the very sight of you.  

As if adding oil to the fire, Harry who was beside him just stood up and bloody walked through him. Not walk past him, through him. As if he’s just a ghost.

Fred froze. Is that what he is now? A ghost? Like Peeves and Moaning Myrtle? He quickly looked down at his body, checking himself. No, he isn’t glowy blue, nor is he see-through. Fred was confused and terrified, and that two feelings together were never a good mix.

“I told you it’s a bad idea to tell Y/N so soon, George.” Fred turned to Ron who was looking to George who looked distressed. “Now’s not the right time for you to pick up a fight with me, Ron,” George growled; his eyes were dark. Fred realized George’s state was similar to yours. In fact, everyone looked exhausted. His heart broke at the sight of the quietly crying Molly who was still in Hermione’s arms.

“You could’ve told it later.” Ron, ignoring his brother’s warning earlier, continued with silent rage. “Ronald,” Hermione warned, glaring at him. “Then what am I supposed to do, you bastard? Is it your twin who’s in a bloody coma and your best friend hyperventilating, losing their mind? Am I supposed to carry this burden alone, huh you git? You’re fucking 18, Ron, use your bloody brain for once.” George snapped and walked out of the ward, seemingly wanted to cool off.

Hang on. What did he just say?

Fred gripped the bed railings to balance himself, his head suddenly went dizzy. “Coma? Me?” He whispered, not believing his ears. So the man earlier, that was really him? Not you under the Polyjuice potion? So, him standing in your ward right now, what was he? A ghost? A million thoughts swarmed Fred, he felt his chest tightened and he almost couldn’t breathe.   

“Why did you have to do that, Ron?” Hermione sighed out, Molly had just calmed down and excused herself to the bathroom. Ron didn’t answer her, and just walked out after looking solemnly in your direction.  

Harry sighed, “I’ll go get him.” He said, glancing at sleeping you, and left the ward. Slowly, the ward became empty, and the only ones there were Fred and you. His grip on the bed become tighter at the sight of you.

“F… Freddie…” Suddenly you mumbled out, and a tear rolled down to your sides. Fred was beyond devastated, heartbroken even. You looked so miserable, and Fred wanted nothing more than to hug you, caress your hair, and just whisper sweet nothings to you.

“I’m… I’m here, love.” His voice quivering, his hands trembled severely. He wanted to kiss your forehead, but the fear of his lips not touching your skin scared him more than ever. He wanted to wipe your tears away, so bad. Without warning, his own tears scrolled down his cheeks. But the tears never drop to the floor, they just vanished into thin air the moment they left his face.  

Fred felt a painful tug in his heart, he was beyond devastated. You were right there, and he could see you, but you couldn’t see him.

No one could.

The thought of being invisible made Fred’s crying worsened. He started to scream within his cries, begging anyone to just listen to him or actually notice he’s there. Fred wailed, screamed, shouted, with tears running profusely, the saliva in his mouth kept coming out as a result of his excessive breakdown.  

He was screaming his heart out, yet no one was listening.

Fred had to crouch down beside your bed as his knees turned weak, his head facing the ground, silently begging to see if one of his many tears would plop to the ground, and actually wet them. But the moment they jumped from the edge of his face; his tears vanished.

Fred calmed down a few minutes later, he was growing exhausted from the mental breakdown he just had.  He stood up trembling, his mind still distraught and disheveled, and his eyes softly darted to you.

He weakly smiled, “At least I got to see you, love.”

A week passed and Fred had accepted the fact that he was indeed in a coma, and his soul was out of his body, resulting in him to be like… this. 

But it wasn’t easy for him. 

He had to watch Molly and George take turns to look after him and Y/N, and they seemingly took turns crying for both of you. Fred was sobbing in the corner of his ward when Molly was crying while wiping his body, the view of his mother crying over him was absolutely heart-breaking. Molly was the first woman in his life, and he dreaded the fact that he couldn’t hug her, nor even touch her. 

He also discovered that his body would also cry whenever he’s crying, resulting in Molly crying even harder as she realized her unconscious son was also crying silently. His heartbeat would also match his body’s heartbeat. When he was having a breakdown at Y/N’s ward a while ago, his heartbeat was very fast, causing the beeping machine to enhance its pace. 

So Fred had jumped to the conclusion that somehow, he and his body are still connected. And with that being said, he’s not a ghost. Only a lost soul.

Fred would always visit your ward. He couldn’t sleep, but he would close his eyes at night so that his heartbeat won’t increase rapidly, in order not to worry his family. He would smile whenever you smile, just silently watching you communicating with Hermione. But as soon as he realized that you had nightmares at night, he couldn’t sleep after that.

So he would sit at the empty chair beside your bed whenever it’s empty, and just watch you sleep. When it’s time that you woke up crying, Fred was grateful that Hermione was there to calm you down, he couldn’t even describe the pain in his heart when he sees you so distraught.

And it broke his heart, even more, when he found out the nightmare involved him.

You were… suffering because of him, and Fred had never felt guiltier. He had also discovered that he could touch objects, he just couldn’t touch humans, which explained why he woke up laying on a bed, instead of sinking. He didn’t do anything to you though, he was afraid it would worsen your condition.  

That night came along. For the nth time, Fred felt his heart breaking at the sight of you sobbing on Hermione’s arm, once again attacked by the same reoccurring nightmare. When you begged Hermione to go see him, he had expected Hermione to say no, that’s what she’s been saying for the past week.

It’s a pleasant surprise when Hermione agreed.

You didn’t know, but Fred walked beside you and Hermione, watching your every step so you wouldn’t trip. He knew how weak your legs were, he was there when the doctors explained your condition to Molly. If it wasn’t for him being invisible, it would look like Fred was worrying for you at every step you took. He quietly smiled to himself, knowing it would annoy the hell out of you whenever he does that.

“Hello, Freddie.” Your quiet voice made a slight tug on his heart. You were holding his hand, and it was killing Fred that he couldn’t feel your touch. Or your warmth. He had to control his tears when you begin to sob on his body, his cold hand became the resting place for your forehead as you leaned forward. 

He had never wanted to touch you so badly, and it’s torturing him to control his tears because he knew the body would cry as well, and he didn’t want to sadden you any further. No words could describe the pain in his heart, and how fast his heartbeat is becoming. You didn’t notice, seemingly had filtered out the beeping sound from your mind to focus on your lover.

“I missed you, darling. I’ve missed you so much…” He heard you whisper while caressing his face. Fred was right in front of you, the only thing between you two was his static body on the bed. 

Fred forced out a chuckle, faking the laugh so his tears won’t come out instead, “You have no idea how much I missed you as well, my love. No idea…” When you left, after kissing his knuckles, that’s when Fred broke down. He had never cried loudly before, courtesy of sharing a house with several people for years, but when he does, it was refreshing.

But he had never felt so alone. 

So he understood your feeling when he saw you leaning against your bedroom door, crying in the dark at your apartment once you’ve been discharged. He decided to follow you home because he couldn’t bear staying at that cold, lonely hospital any longer.

 His home was you; you were his home and you still are.

And his heart bleeds; because he knew he was your home as well. And while he’s right there in front of you, sitting across you with tears in his eyes, begging you to see him so you won’t cry out of agony again, you didn’t know. 

You would never know.

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PART 4: READ

TAGLIST:

@paigeyisme @britishspidey @hargreevesgrace @jasminweasley @neutralgoodval @kaidenceweasley @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @123happyllama @nicole-prz @phuvioqhile @ionlycamehereforfanfics @martalol @mccloudchloe @hufflepuffzutara @weasleysangel

[lordabovehelpme]

ONE MORE! How about after an attack or something happens, the reader made a mistake and ends up getting hurt. Din gets super upset and says a lot of things that are hurtful towards the reader and instead of fighting back they kinda just nod and accept it. after a few days Din notices how the reader starts to act different and apologizes once he realized that the whole thing was because of him. Just some angst ya know? THIS IS SO MANY IM SORRY

Dead- Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: You’re sure you died, but maybe not. 

Warnings: Drowning! 

A/n: No, it’s totally fine. I love all your asks! :) I hope you like this one! 

Masterlist

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It’s surreal and calm under the icy water. It feels like you’re being held still in time and space. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be. The water should feel freezing and yet, you can’t feel anything. Your chest should be screaming for air but you feel tranquil, not needing anything and nothing needing anything from you. Existing and nonexistent all at the same time.

The world surrounding you is tinted blue and it stays invariably silent. Your hair floats around, framing your face as you look about. Light casts down from above, highlighting the vast water. You’re starting to get tired, eyelids slowly opening and closing. Bubbles work themself from your mouth until no more are left.

Everything fades away, you can’t feel anything. Death is comforting, you conclude. It’s like the moment just before you drift off into a deep sleep. It’s not lonely or spine-chilling like people say, it’s like a blanket of security has been placed over you.

Is this it? Is this the final page in your story? 

You feel warm and cozy, accepting your fate. Opening your eyes to take one more final look at the world, you’re met with a dark blob swimming towards you. You smile as you realize it’s your mandalorian. Reaching out, you cup his cheek before closing your eyes for good.

***

His heart stops as you sink under the water. Body moving on autopilot as he shoots the rest of the group. Running over to the hole in the ice where you were discarded so ruthlessly by the quarry. Bodies surround the area and yet he pays no mind to them. Not thinking twice before diving into the dark icebound abyss after you.

Swimming as fast as the beskar will allow him, he nearly gasps when you reach out to him. Heart dropping to the pit of his stomach when you smile and close your eyes.

No! No, no, no! This can’t be right! You’re not dead! You can’t be! Thoughts fly through his head as he pulls you both up to the surface.

Running to the Crest with you in his arms he checks your neck for a pulse. His blood runs cold when he finds nothing. Yanking off his helmet he presses his head to your chest, no breath.

The water from the lake mixes with the salty tears trailing down his face. He starts pumping over your heart, willing it to start.

“Come on, cyar’ika! Don’t leave me like this!” He’s begging now, wishing he could have only been a tad faster. If only he would have kept you in the ship. You’d be safe and sound then.

He takes a deep breath before smashing his lips to your own. Tilting your head back slightly, he forces the air into your lungs. He starts pumping again, tears blurring his vision.

“Please, please.” If only he had shot the quarry sooner. Then it wouldn't have been able to grab hold of you. The memory of the quarry holding you over the frozen lake, its hands wrapped around your neck, playing over and over again in his head. “Cyar’ika.” He murmurs. The sound of your scream is endless, repeating like a broken record.

It’s been at least six minutes of his desperate cycle before his muscles ache for a break. You’re not coming back, you’re gone. He rests his head on your chest above your heart. He’s wailing now, loud sobs filling the Crest.

The child runs over to your body. “She’s gone. Buir’s gone.” He is broken, like his entire soul shattered into billions of pieces. The child lifts a hand before closing his eyes. But not long after, it collapses into a slumber. He picks up his son and sets him in his hammock.

“Good try, but nothing we can do can help her.” He says more to himself than his son.

***

Lights flash behind your eyelids. Your stomach protests and sends waves of bile and water up your throat. Yanked out of your peaceful sleep you are brought back to the world. Failing your arms you cough and hack up at least a gallon of water. Clutching your newly started heart, you finally get all of the water out of your lungs.

“Cyar’ika?” It’s the whisper of your nickname that greets you first. You open your eyes into the pitch black of the hull.

“Tin can?”

Arms wrap around your body pulling you close. What happens next surprises you more though.

“Cyar’ika! How dare you leave the ship without telling me!” He’s growling and yelling at you. “Are you so weak that even an unarmed quarry captured you? And what was going through your head when he strangled you?”

“I’m sorry.” It comes out meek and timid.

“Saying sorry doesn’t change the fact that you got in the way of my entire plan!” He doesn’t understand why he is yelling at you. All of his anger for the quarry is being thrown onto you but he can’t stop it.

You nod your head while looking at the ground, tears welling up.

“Don’t ever, EVER, do that again. Just stay put when I tell you to!” He gives you one final glance in the dark before pushing his helmet back on and opening the hatch, walking out into the world.

You’re absolutely flummoxed.

***

It’s been three days since the incident, neither of you talk about it. You’ve been trying hard to please the mandalorian, trying to make up for your mistake.

He realizes something is wrong when you’re two hours into hyperspace and you’ve not uttered one word. “Cyar’ika, what’s wrong?”

You look up to him with the most innocent eyes. “Oh, nothing.”

“Come on, I know something is up. What is it?”

“Nothing, Mando.”

“See that's the thing, you never call me Mando, it’s always tin can. What is wrong?” He is starting to get agitated and you can tell.

“Nothing, I swear.”

His fist pounds on the arm rest. “Tell me!” He is yelling now. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Fine! You want to know what's wrong, then I’ll tell you.” You’re yelling back at him. “It’s the fact that I literally died and you have not said one thing except that it was my fault!” You take a shaky breath before continuing. “If I am such a nuisance and I always get in your way, then why didn’t you just leave me to die?”

You can’t tell if anything you’re saying is affecting him, because he just sits there. “Did you even care?” Your voice cracks with vulnerability. Biting your lip you look away from him as the tears slip from your eyes.

It's silent for a couple minutes before his own shaky voice says, “Oh cyare, if only you knew how much I care.” He reaches for your hand but you flinch away. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was mad at the quarry and it all was projected onto you.”

You face his visor, locking eyes with the space where you know his eyes are.

“Cyar’ika, my world stopped when I saw you in danger. I just want you to be safe.” He reaches for you again, except this time you take his hand and plant yourself in his lap. “I love you so much and it hurt so bad when you were gone. I am not used to holding these emotions so I just distanced myself from you. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” It's a hushed question that makes its way past your lips before you even realize it.

He chuckles and brings his helmet to press against your forehead. “I do, cyar’ika.” He takes a breath, “I do so much.”

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Well that was an emotional rollar coaster. Thanks everyone for reading and I hope y’all liked it!

Love, Lordy. 

[cunningambitousdetermined]

i need a plot for this

yall so ive been trying really hard to get back into writing and i went to a writing camp this summer. im going to post a poem that i wrote there later bc im super proud of it but right now i have something else i need help with. SO basically there was a prompt about someone finding a letter or a note. that’s the prompt. so i wrote something, really liked it BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO TAKE IT FROM HERE. my basic ideas involve the two characters meeting each other again to do SOMETHING WHICH I DONT KNOW and slowly arcane (youll see when you read the story below) thaws and falls in love with kalon and kalon has always been in love with her and its like best friends to enemies to friends to lovers ya know? ANYWAY if you dont hate me for being inactive and needy, please read this and help me. 

Dear Arcane,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 10 years. Wow. I don’t even know if you’ll ever get this, you could’ve moved. You could be dead. Oh god, that’s dark. You’re not dead, someone would’ve told me, I’m sure. So that must mean that there’s a good chance you have this, but I’m not even sure if you’ll read it.

He was right, as he most often was. Arcane had not planned to read the letter from the moment she read her name on the envelope, written in a neat sort of messy handwriting that could only come from one person. The letter had been sitting at her desk for a week before memories began to drown her and she knew she had to open it.

That’s not the point though, I’m sure you’ll read this. You’ve always been a sucker for the intimacy of written letters. Maybe that’s why I wrote to you instead of calling.

Arcane closed her eyes, the pounding of the memories at the door slowly consuming her. She took a deep breath and let them in. The whispers started to fill the room, every word echoing off the walls, like her past had become a living, breathing thing in her room. How could he write her now? After all these years. Anger reared it's small head in the back of her mind. How could he be so casual as if he wasn't the boy who ripped her heart out and tore it to pieces. 

Maybe it’s because I did read all the letters you wrote to me. Even after the voicemails stopped filling my phone and the emails ran dry, your letters kept coming.

She remembers writing those letters, the pen shaking in her hand as it hit the paper. She remembers wondering what you said to someone like him, a friend who left you behind. The squeeze in her chest that tightened each time he didn’t reply. The break in her heart when the last letter she ever wrote was returned to her doorstep.

If you’ve read this far without tearing my letter to pieces, then I would say this is a good start to our reunion. I’ve missed you. Your stubborn ways, always trying to keep me safe. But you always came with me wherever I went anyway. I miss your secret smile, the one you saved just for me. The treehouse we built in your yard. Do you miss that? I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder if I can even ask that of you.

She did miss them. But, those things that she missed were long gone. The treehouse was overgrown with vines, Arcane was sure you couldn’t even get into it anymore. She went with him on his stupid adventures because what would she do if he left and met new people? He would leave her and she would be alone. So she desperately followed him blindly, hoping it would keep him close. Arcane missed her secret smile, the genuine one she had always saved for him. He missed it. How could he miss something that he destroyed. With his one and only letter to her, he demolished any leftover love for him that hid in her heart. He couldn’t ask if Arcane wondered about him. That wasn’t fair. That night, ten years ago, was still a raw wound in her soul that she was pretty sure would never heal.

~

The rain was relentless that night, banging against every edge of the house, but a little girl was waiting by the door, not even flinching as the lightning and thunder clapped furiously. Arcane peeked her head above the window frame to find the mailman running through the storm, his frantic steps pounding through the floor of the house. Her eyes lit up with a hope that was slowly fading with each mail drop. She opened the door and hid the small smile that started to spread up her face with a cough.

“Hi, Dan!” Arcane’s voice gave away the excitement that was flooding her system.

“Hey, Arcane.” Dan couldn’t help the pitiful grin that he gave her. She waited by the door for him every day and each day there was no letter for her. It must be soul-crushing, he thought, waiting for a letter that never comes.

“Is there…?” Arcane was practically on her tiptoes at this point. Dan rifled through the letters, dread settling as her name wasn’t there. Again. And then there was a squeal. “Oh, Dan! I found it! I knew- I knew it- I told them!” Her sentences didn’t even come out fully as she beamed, her smile brighter than any ray of the sun.

Arcane had run into the house, a breeze following in her wake. Plopping down into the soft plush couch, she ripped open the envelope, not caring about the paper that flew everywhere in the room. A paper fluttered out, floating toward the ground. Arcane grabbed it, hands shaking, she could practically feel the sweat dripping down her face. Words were the easiest way to break someone. The letter only contained eleven words, yet they would stick with her for the rest of her life.

Stop writing me. None of it was real. You were nothing.

Eleven words. And they shattered her. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces breaking. Sobs racked through her whole body, her chest shaking and trembling with each broken breath. She caught her face in the mirror hanging off the pale wall and didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. You were nothing. A scream tore through her, the ache of her heart so raw that even the sun seemed to cry, rain dripping onto the panes of the windows. And slowly, so very slowly, Arcane buried the ache and gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and encased them in an impenetrable cage, never to opened again.

~

The ache was still present now, ten years after the letter had arrived. The dullness of her buried hurt made her clench her fists around the letter that sat in her hand now, the same lopsided handwriting adorning it.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing this with an actual purpose, if you can imagine that. I didn't just write to rehash our friendship. 

Arcane could feel her eyes narrowing, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the inanimate piece of paper. An actual purpose? To break her heart all over again? This time she did roll her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. But, it wasn’t the fact that he wrote her after all these years or that his tone was friendly throughout that made her body freeze. It was the last line that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

In all the years that Arcane had known him, he'd never been very dependent. He often just struggled in silence and figured them out on his own. Not once, not ever, had has asked for help. But, there the sentence was inked in his slanted, loopy writing. 

I need your help.

Love,

Kalon

  ~~everything below here is stuff that doesnt have to be a part of the story but i still liked it and where it was going (idk please give me ideas)~~

The quiet, shock of the room seemed to weigh on Arcane. She flopped back onto her bed, the soft pillows cushioning her landing. I need your help. Those few, simple words, tugged at the strings that bound her heart. He needed her. The thought was fleeting as just as quickly as it came, it left. In its spot was anger. Now he needed her? After all those years when she needed him? What did he do then? Nothing. And that’s what she was going to do now. She huffed in satisfaction, tossing the envelope to the side. Her fingers reached into her hair, massaging her head. There were too many things to think about right now. Arcane squeezed her eyes shut as memories stung her eyes in the form of tears. 

~

“Please, don’t leave me.” Arcane had whispered, her small breaths filling the one room of the treehouse. 

“I don’t have a choice. You know I don’t want to go.” Kalon’s voice broke and he looked away so Arcane couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. It was silent. 

“We’ll still be best friends right?” 

“Yeah.” Kalon’s reply didn’t hold much conviction, causing Arcane to look over at him, confused, glossy eyes narrowing. 

“To the moon and back, Kal, remember?” She said, her tone desperate. It was a promise they made one night as they were watching some cheesy movie on the old television set. The boy had told the girl that he loved her too ‘the moon and back’. Kalon had then explained that the two characters said that so that they would never be apart. They could meet at the same moon, always and then they could go back. And then, they would never be fully apart. Arcane had liked that. So naturally,  she had grabbed Kal’s face and made him promise that they would go ‘to the moon and back’ if they were ever apart. It became a goodbye for them, a way of saying ‘I’ll see you soon’. 

“Yeah,” Kal had replied, a smile barely curling through his lips, “I’ll race ya there.”

~

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, letting her memories flow down her cheeks and into the bedsheets, but eventually she had to get up. She pulled herself up and off the bed, limbs protesting at the use. She just needed a few days is all, then she wouldn’t even remember what she was crying for.  Kalon didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

thank you for reading this far, i love all of you. just throw out ideas please. or give me some advice, i would love that. whether its about my writing or the plot i would love to have tips and constructive criticism on how to get better! tagging some moots who i hope dont hate me after this below the cut:

@natashxromanovf @pad-foots @griffxnnage @voidmalfoy @flxss-bxbblxs @alwaysreading @herondalesunsetcurve THANKS YALL I LOVE YOU MORE THEN I EXPRESS AND I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR LOVE

[oftenjisung]

Tulips and pain :( ♡

Starring: younghoon x fem! Reader.

Warnings: de@th, su!c!d3, curs!ng, suggestive themes, funeral, depress!on, weight, bullying, abuse,drugs, and drinking.

Notes: not proof read.

Pain was all younghoon felt. The bundle of dried up tulips in his hands. Tulips were your favorite flowers. He always remembered. The dark and misty night blew empty. Tears slowly falling one by one on younghoons face. Why is he crying over you? The wind of the night making younghoon cheeks pink. There he stood, by the bridge you jumped off and ended your heartbreak of a life. Younghoon wasn't able to stop you. He blamed himself for your death. He hated himself everyday. He waited for you every night.Every morning. He couldn't wait to see you again. That was until he faces the real world and truth hits him that your never coming back. Even if he gave his soul, if he cried night and day for you to comeback, you won't ever make your return to him. He locked himself up in his dorm room and didn't come out for 2 whole months. The members were worried sick. But they let him be, losing someone you oh so dearly loved, was never easy. At your funeral younghoon couldn't even finish his letter to you before he broke down crying. Sangyeon had to bring him off the stage before he started screaming for you. The members remembered you daily. Younghoon sat everyday in your room. Each object you had in there was connected to a memory. The Polaroids hanging from your wall, those were taken on your first date with younghoon. All the Hoodies and sweats you had in the closet that you stole from younghoon. The shelf holding all your favorite books you read on the road trips you both took, you both build together. Your dog, whom you left behind didnt know a clue on what has happened. That made younghoons heart shatter more, if that was even possible. It all started when you accidentally bumped into younghoon on the way to meet with friends.

"I'm so sorry, here let me get that for you" you bent down to pick up the papers that flew from younghoon. "No your okay, i need to watch where I'm going next time" he shyly said amazed by your beauty.

"Here, let me buy you a coffee to apologize" you said handing over the pile of papers back.

"No, you don't have to its perfectly fine" younghoon nervously said.

"I know, your just really cute" you said.

"OH, um- okay then how about the one Cafe down the street" younghoon said putting a hand behind his neck.

That day was the day you first met. The day you had asked him on a date. Not knowing it would lead to a 4 year relationship. You had a tough life.

Being abused by your stepmother and step-father.

Juggling school and work.

Being left behind by your real family.

_______________________________________________

You had tiredness written all over you, younghoon noticed when you came over to his house.

"Whats wrong, babe?" Hoon said rubbing your arms up and down in a gentle manner.

"Its nothing, just didn't get enough sleep last night" you said a small smile appearing on your face.

That was a lie.

You stayed up all night listening to your step parents fight about dumb things. Both drunk and high. Stupidly blaming you.

A slap to the face is what you got first thing in the morning as soon as you came out of your room.

Hiding the bruise with makeup then going to school, then making your way to work, then going to younghoons.

Your step parents didn't know you had a boyfriend well they did but just couldn't accept it.

You didn't listen to them, you found the love of your life, and that was it for you. Absolutely no one is going to stop you from being with younghoon.

After telling your friends at school that you had a boyfriend named younghoon. They spat in your face insults and left. Calling you a whore for having so many relationships with men and just using them for sex. Which was definitely not true. The boys you've dated before used you for sex and just left.

Your "friends" didn't know that of course because their to sick in the head to belive anything you say.

You were often bullied in school for the way you looked. You weren't skinny like other girls, you weren't as beautiful as the models they saw on social media. All they cared about was your appearance.

You were a straight A student, majoring in all your classes. And being the teachers favorites. Another reason why people dated you and bullied you.

You suffered in pain.

No one knew that besides you.

You had a mask on.

Your step parent's abuse ended when one day you went over to younghoons and had a black eye.

He told you over and over again. Who did it.

You just said you ran into a pole.

Younghoon knew you were lying because it was raining outside and you never go outside when it rains.

He started getting pissed off on who would hurt you and why.

"Younghoon don't scream please" you crackled out of your mouth.

"Don't scream? YOUR TELLING ME NOT TO SCREAM WHEN SOMEONE PUT THEIR HANDS ON YOU, THE PERSON I WOULD GIVE MY LIFE FOR" younghoon screamed out. Anger rushed through his body.

"I'll tell you who just please stop screaming, yo- your s-sca-scaring me" you softly said hands covering your ears. Hearing your soft voice only then did younghoon notice whats happening. Your shaky figure infront of him. "Hey, listen im sorry okay. I didn't mean to yell like that, but just please tell me whats wrong" hoon said grabbing your waist gently.

"It-its my step-parents" you choked out.

"What? Wait, they did this to you?" Younghoon said confusion taking over him.

"Yes, hoonie, they have been abusing me ever since I was 4" you said grasping onto the sleeves of his jacket.

"You are not going over there, anymore" younghoon said flat.

"What" you said looking up.

" you are staying with me from now on, your are not going over to that house anymore." He said.

Your stepmother tried calling the cops when she didn't see you in your room that night.

She couldn't do anything, as you were a legal adult and had The managers permission to live with younghoon.

Still.

You were in pain.

Younghoon could see it more clearly.

He tried the best he could.

Yet, you still had to go.

If only younghoon had come into your life sooner.

But as they say, once ones gone, their gone.

[njeancastro316]

The Night we met ...Part 2

This needs a title and I need help.

Warnings: Swearing and a tease spoon of violent behavior. New characters.

Elijah x female reader

Bolds are thoughts

Like, comment or reblog 🤗😘

English not my first language 😳

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days had gone by since he met her. He should’ve gone after her as she made her swift exit. He wanted to but something inside him stopped him, ‘maybe it was for the best’ he thought biting his lower lip. Elijah had left the bar not long after when he stepped on something with his shoe, he had broken a card . Looking down to investigate he smiled widely. He bent to take the item , in his hand was Y/N ID badge from the hospital she must have dropped it on her way out. Apparently he had broken what held it together. At first he didn’t know what to make of it, upon closer inspection it looked like a vertebrae with a bow and a happy face. ‘Adorable just like her’, he smiled again and after carefully wrapping it on his handkerchief he placed the little treasure on his suit pocket . He went by the hospital to find her but she was off duty and although he could’ve compelled anyone to tell him when she was going to be back he found himself not wanting to. He would go to the hospital and try his luck again today , if fate wanted him to meet her then so be it, if not he would not pursue her anymore. ‘I can’t wait to see you again little one’ he thought as he put on his suit jacket and headed towards his Bentley.

————————-

At the hospital...Y/N was preparing her next surgey after two days of total rest , isolation,food and Netflix with her long time friend and fellow nurse Jess.

“So let me get this straight you went to a bar for a drink , you met a guy that possibly showed real interest in you and you freaking left him!!??? Jess was livid.

“Well I said goodbye to him, I’ll be regret my decision for the next 6 months so prepare yourself” Y/N lowered her head in shame.

“I outta kick your ass , so you know what this means , no let me rephrase that, what it would’ve meant, a chance for you to forget and be over that dickwad Stephen and you fucking ran from it like a bat out of hell” Jess shouted flustered.

‘Yeah I suck’

“I am over him Jess , I don’t need anyone”Y/N pouted.

‘God I am over that asshole for good, yes I am say it again as many times until it sticks’she thought.

“Yeah right and I’m Oprah” her friend massaged her temples clearly frustrated “Y/N you are gorgeous, not to mention the sweetest human being I’ve ever known and you deserve so much better than that asshole who cheated on you with a surgery resident”.

“If a chance comes to you , bitch you take it , I’m not saying fuck him right away” earning a incredulous look from Y/N “Give it a day or two”Jess winked. “I’m just saying you deserve a good man in your life , one that loves you and cherishes the treasure that you really are”.

“You think I’m worthy of that” Y/N whispered her eyes shining with tears.

“Of course you are , so when are you going back to the bar”? .

“Jess I can’t ... I mean , I’d be so embarrassed besides what if he’s not there”

“And what if he is”Jess countered.

“Then you know me I’ll grow mute probably do something that I will regret later point being I’ll mess it up” Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

“You are giving up ! I’m going to kill you”Jess placed her hands on YN neck to choke her making her scream.

“Your hands are freezing, you lunatic stop!! , You can kill me later”. Y/N pushed Jess away laughing.

“Miss Y/L/N” came from one of the surgeons .

“Dr. Cox! , Is there something you need sir”?

“There is someone at the front desk asking for you” . He said

“What?! Who?” She and Jess exchanged looks.

“He didnt give me a name he just asked for you” . He said leaving before she could ask anything else .

“What do I do ? What do I do”???!!! Y/N trembled.

‘Oh my god...oh my god , Could it be him ? OH MY GOD!!

“Stop it ,don’t make me slap the crap out of you Y/N , now relax and stand up straight let me look at your make up , what flavor on the lip gloss ?” Jess eyed her friend . “Strawberries”Y/N answered.

“Good you can never go wrong with strawberries .Breath check”

“Nonsense Jess my breath is fin”...

“Breath check now”!! Jess interrupted making Y/N puffed her breath . “Mmm fruity , what is that ?

“Trident tropical twist gum” earning a thumbs up from her friend.

“Hair is a bit wild but its ok”Jess tried to tamed her friends unruly wavy locks.  “You are perfect ,now go get him”Jess encouraged followed by a slap in Y/N behind.

“Jess!! That hurt!”

“Oh you love it”! She teased.

Y/N walked towards the front desk of the OR slowly her heart was like a hummingbird beating so fast she thought it might fly out of her chest.

‘Please God don’t let me make a fool out of myself’ as she neared the desk she saw Stephen.

‘Oh fuck me’she dreaded ‘What is HE doing here’? Y/N went passed him ignoring him completely.

“Hey Bae”Stephen called “Y/N! ,What are you doing ?, Did you leave your contacts at home ? I’m right here”

Y/N closed her eyes and let out a big sigh. ‘Of course it has to be him and not Elijah ,its like literally the heavens open and say Fuck you Y/N’ She took a deep breath and turned to face Stephen.

“Dr .Burks can I help you with anything”? Y/N said annoyed.

“Aww come on bae don’t be like that , I missed you . Are you busy tonight ? Do you want me to swing by your place and you know” ... his eyebrows moved up and down suggesting the obvious.

“This is not the time nor the place for this Stephen” she pulled him into a big hallway away from the managers and people that ran the OR avoiding their questioning looks.

“Y/N please when are you going to grow up , I made a little mistake , you know I love you , there is no one but you lets kiss and make up” he gave her his sexy smile one that she used to love .

‘I’m about blow the fuck up’ anger surged through her body.

“How dare you?! Stephen seriously!!, no one but me?! Did you told the same crap to that poor naive resident before you plowed her into your bed . You have some balls after two months of dumping me for her. Well not this time I’m not going to fall for this again, its over Dr. Burks ... we are over.” Y/N turned to walk away but Stephen was faster he grabbed her by her wrist and tightened his hold.

“No we are not over until I say we are over. Stephen smiled at her as if not to cause a scene.

“Let go , you are hurting me ...please !! Stephen you are hurting me” she clenched her jaw her wrist felt like it was going to shatter under his hold.

‘God please please , I need help’ she thought desperately.

“Is there a problem here”? a voice came from behind her. Y/N closed her eyes and smiled in relief she’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Elijah” Y/N turned pulling her hand away from Stephen. She walked towards Elijah stopping mere inches from him personal space be damned.

“Are you ok little one”? He asked softly surveying for signs of injury as she panted. He could hear her heart drumming on her chest . Her emotions were all over the place anger , fear , happiness and lust. Her cheeks were tinted pink. She was beautiful. He smirked.

Y/N could feel his breath on her and she searched his face for any indication that he was uncomfortable with her being this close.

“Y/N” Stephen called “Who’s this guy?, Y/N ... Y/N”! He repeated to deaf ears.

‘Sorry ... not fucking sorry’

Y/N closed the space between them grabbing Elijah by the back of his neck and pulling him into a fierce kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cliffhanger 😈 Im learning from the best 🦄 🤣😂

Girls I need a title , I can’t think of any 🤦‍♀️HELP

@hellotvshowtrash @elijahs-wife @drachentraum @nikmikaelsonswife @mikaelson-emma @elejahfanfic @eternityunicorn @dumble-daddy @svnkissedskies @soul-revoir @kaiiiiiiparkerismyhusband @lokis-favorite-follower @iirocioii

[peggyrose19]

Gone

hehe I am back with another heart-wrenching story for you all. Who’s ready to cry?? *innocent smile* Wolfstar this time :) Not all of this follows canon, mainly because I was too lazy to get my book and look through it for continuity’s sake. You guys will live, right? It still makes sense. This is for the @hpbrokenhearts festival so, if I broke your heart or made you feel things (ew) leave a broken heart emoji in the comments!! Thank you all for reading! <3 tagging @donttouchmycarrots since she asked and @im-oknutzy-trash cause I want to torture her :) 

All Remus can hear is silence. 

Somewhere in him, he knows that Harry is screaming in his arms, knows that the battle is still happening around him.

But none of it is registering. 

It takes everything in him to not sprint forward. To not throw himself through the veil. The only thing holding him back is Harry, struggling against him, reaching out for his godfather. 

His godfather who is now gone.

The love of Remus’ life. 

Gone. 

 ~

He remembers the very first morning they woke up together. 

He’s not sure why it’s the first memory that surfaces. 

It’s their sixth year at Hogwarts. Remus crawls into his bed that night, broken and exhausted. He appears without a word, climbing in beside him and curling his body around him. Remus stares into steady silver eyes and immediately feels better. Without a word, he presses a kiss to Remus’ lips, and leans into him, pushing him gently against the mattress. Remus sinks into it, body heating up with each touch. Without saying a word, he gives Remus what he needs and Remus has never felt more loved.

They wake in the morning curled around each other, blankets tangled at their feet and Remus never wants to move. This is home, he thinks dimly, watching his sleeping face, feeling his warm breath on his neck, the arm wrapped around his waist. He remembers the feel of fingers trailing across his skin, a soft mouth on his, the pleasure pulled from his body. 

“You’re smiling.” 

Remus grins widely. “I’m happy.”

“I’m glad.” 

With a laugh, he leans forward and kisses him lightly.

“What about James and Peter?” he murmurs against his lips. 

Remus pulls away a bit and pulls the curtains closed, reaching for his wand and spelling them shut. 

“And class?”

“It’s Saturday. Relax, baby. We have all morning.” 

His boyfriend’s smile turns mischievous. “Hmm, then I can think of a few things we can do.” Remus just laughs and lets himself be pushed back against the mattress once more.

~

When Harry faces Voldemort, Remus nearly can’t stand it. His heart is broken, shattered into pieces on the ground, left behind the veil in that underground room. Left with the man he gave his heart that night in the bed they used to share, then gave to him again in the dark dusty house of his family. He knows he’s not getting it back again. 

The flashes of light remind him of battle. Of the battle he fought for the same fucking reason over a decade before. The battle that took his friends. 

He cannot lose anyone else that day. 

~

Remus arrives back at 12 Grimmauld Place hours later. Maybe even days. He’s no longer aware of time passing. 

The house is eerily quiet, all sounds of life gone from the dim hallways. There are no more voices or footsteps, no one cooking in the kitchen or cleaning out one of the many empty rooms. He can’t even hear Kreacher anywhere. 

The stairs creak familiarly under Remus’ feet as he slowly makes his way to his bedroom. It’s dark. He doesn’t bother with the lights, using only the faint moonlight to make his way across the room. Remus sinks onto his bed, head in his hands. There are so many memories from this room, from this bed. Late nights and early mornings, pacing the floors just waiting to hear, making love in the dead of night, screaming and fighting against the world, for the world. He wishes he was here, to gather him up in his arms and hold him tight and tell him everything will be okay. 

But he’s not here. And Remus doesn’t know what to do. 

He isn’t sure when he last slept. 

He isn’t sure he’ll ever sleep again. 

~

“Remus,” the soft whisper says.

“Hmm.” 

“Wake up, love.” 

“Hm, what is it?” 

When Remus rolls over, Sirius Black’s grinning face meets him, mere inches away. His hair is messy, cheek imprinted from the pillow. He’s never looked more perfect. 

With a quick kiss, Sirius says, “It’s Christmas.”

Remus grins at the childish joy in his voice. “It is.” Sirius kisses him again, soft and sweet, pulling him close and tangling a hand in his curls. 

“We should get up,” Remus mumbles eventually. 

Sirius groans, but rolls away from him to stand, flinching as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He stretches leisurely, back cracking as he reaches for the ceiling, shirt riding up a bit. Unable to stop himself, Remus reaches out and runs a finger along the exposed skin of his stomach. Sirius shivers.

“Don’t be mean,” Sirius murmurs. Remus just smirks. But he pulls his hand away, sitting up and pulling the blankets around himself. 

“Wait.” Remus grabs Sirius’ hand before he can walk away and tugs him down into another kiss. He smiles into it, carding a finger through Sirius’ long hair. This might just be paradise. 

But then a crash comes from downstairs and the shouting begins and they both remember where they are. 

“Some other time, then,” Sirius says and pulls away. Remus smiles at him sweetly. 

“I’m holding you to that.” 

Sirius’ gaze flashes to him for a split second before it’s gone as he turns back towards his dresser. 

“C’mon,” he says as he pulls a drawer open, fishing for a sweater. He finds one and pulls it on. It’s Remus’. “We should go start breakfast.” Remus nods, although Sirius doesn't see it, and clambers out of bed. 

“I’ll see you down there,” he says as Sirius heads for the door. He kisses him one last time. 

“Happy Christmas, Remus,” he whispers. 

“Happy Christmas, Sirius.” 

~

Remus wakes with a start. 

It takes a moment for him to gain his bearings as he looks blearily around the room, lit dimly by the moonlight shining in from the small window. 

His face swims through his mind, long hair and bright eyes smirking at him. He forces it down, the image too painful for his exhausted brain. 

The dream is still clear in his mind, the memory even more so. That had been one of the happiest mornings of his life. Waking up with his boyfriend, warm and happy and safe by his side for the first time in 12 years. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get that again. 

But now he’s lost it all over again. 

The events of the past 24 hours come crashing down all at once.

He remembers Harry’s screams, his tears. Remembers watching long black hair disappear behind the veil, silver eyes never to be seen again. He remembers the crack in his heart, just starting to mend, bursting wide open all over again. 

Harry is going to be okay, that was the most important thing he told himself. Harry and all of his friends, they are going to be okay. They are all going to be okay… 

Between one breath and the next, Remus is sobbing and he can’t stop himself. 

He told himself he would be strong. For Harry, for the Order. Except he can’t do it anymore. Alone in this empty house, filled with so many painful, wonderful memories, he can’t hold it together anymore. So he lets himself break apart. With nothing but the ringing in his ears and his memories as company, Remus lets himself hurt. 

~

Eleven years old, standing before him on the train, silver eyes piercing his soul. Dark hair cut short, curling around his face. 

A hand outstretched. He takes it. 

“I’m Sirius.” 

“Remus.”

“Gryffindor!” the hat calls and the boy’s face falls. 

Years pass. 

Friends and fights and pranks and laughter. 

Full moons with Padfoot by his side.

Love. Joy. The pure bliss of being known. 

Graduation comes. Fear looms over them. 

War. Pain. Secrets he can’t share. 

“Don’t you trust me anymore?”

James, Lily, Peter, all of them gone. Sirius. Gone. 

Betrayal. He falls to his knees. 

The full moon comes and he’s alone. 

Years pass in a blur. 

A headline in a newspaper that sends chills up his spine. 

Moonlight, cold wind on his skin. The man before him on his knees, begging for the world. 

“I love you.”

The two of them curled in bed, a low voice whispering in his ear, “Happy Christmas, Remus.”

“Please don’t leave me.” 

A flash of light.

Silence. 

~

Remus slowly walks towards the room at the end of the hall. He’s not even sure he can go in. But he has to try, he tells himself. He has to try. 

The door swings open silently. Remus steps into the room, footsteps kicking up the thin layer of dust on the floor. It hasn’t been disturbed in nearly a month. Everything is exactly as he left it, nothing out of place. It’s as familiar to Remus as the scars on his skin. He stands for a moment, scanning the room, remembering. Everything is a reminder of him. 

Slowly, so slowly, Remus begins sorting. He finds clothing thrown haphazardly into the dresser and he sighs. He never did learn, did he. There are socks on the floor, a few t-shirts along with them. Remus begins folding, placing each item carefully back into the dresser. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it all. 

He finds his favorite jumper, one far too big on him, and presses it to his face. It still smells like him, of dog hair and smoke. Remus sinks to the ground, holding it close to him, as if it will bring him back. He knows it won’t, but he wishes for it anyway. With a deep breath, he pulls it over his head and continues folding. 

In one drawer he finds not clothing but objects. Small trinkets and mementos from their years at Hogwarts. There’s a Gryffindor flag, now faded and dull. He finds the mirror, twin to the one James had, given to Harry a year prior. He stares at himself in the reflection. Nothing happens. With a sigh, he sets it to the side. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it was a let down nonetheless. 

The next thing he pulls out is a telescope. He runs his fingers along the smooth surface, the cool metal bringing back memories of the night sky and a warm body beside him. The telescope was his, originally. Somehow it had ended up here. As he stares at it, he remembers the night he learned what love felt like.   

~

It’s dark when the boy finds him on the balcony of the tower. Remus escaped there after classes for a bit of fresh air. And some space, from the man now sitting beside him. The air is unusually warm for the March evening. He doesn’t say anything, just sits beside Remus, and watches the sun set. 

His heart constricts painfully as their shoulders brush. Remus wants to reach over, to touch him. But he doesn’t dare. So he stays silent, staring at the sky.

“You okay, Moony?” he asks quietly as the last strands of sunlight sink behind the mountains.

“Yeah.” Remus doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes front. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You want me to go?”

He smiles a bit, fighting the longing in his chest. He doesn’t have the heart to turn him away. “No, you’re okay. You don’t count.” 

Remus feels him looking at him. 

“What?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or offended.”

Remus glances at him, “About what, that you don’t count?” He nods. “I meant it as a compliment.” 

They fall silent again. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. Remus flushes, glancing over at him as his heart speeds up. Does he dare to hope?

Grey eyes have turned to silver in the moonlight, hair blowing in the soft breeze. He leans into him. There’s a look in his eyes that Remus can’t read. 

“Pads,” he begins. He reaches out hesitantly, resting a hand against his cheek. He sinks into the touch, and Remus feels his courage grow.  

“What, Re?”

“Can I kiss you?” The words come out in a single breath, barely audible over the light wind. But the boy nods as if he’s heard. 

Their lips touch quickly, messily. Remus’ heart stops. It’s not perfect, not at all, but it feels like the world has frozen. They break apart. Remus presses their foreheads together, feeling their breaths mingling. He looks up at him, eyes soft and full of longing. He reads the silent question in Remus’ face. 

With a breath, he leans in again, pressing their lips together, hands snaking around Remus’ neck and pulling him closer. This kiss is easier, less messy. They fit, their bodies molding together as Remus wraps his other arm around his waist. He sinks into his arms and Remus wonders why he didn’t do this sooner. 

“Sirius,” he whispers against his lips. “I really like you.”

He smiles. “I really like you too.”

They pull apart, after a moment, arms still wrapped around each other.

“Wanna look at the stars with me?” Remus asks. 

He nods eagerly and pulls away, and Remus grabs the telescope sitting beside him, lifting it to his eye. The boy points out the Canis constellation, grinning proudly.

“Look, Re, it’s me!” He’s grinning, arm wrapped around his shoulder, pointing up at the Sirius star, shining brightly down on them. Remus smiles at him, handing him the telescope and watches as he looks up at the sky. He never wants to leave this moment. 

~

Remus shakes his head at himself, dragging himself out of the memory. His heart constricts painfully as he remembers the feel of soft lips against his, arms curled around him, fingers in his hair. A feeling he’ll never get back again. 

He digs further in the drawer and finds a stack of letters. They give him pause. He surveys them, trying to figure out why they seem so familiar. It’s then he notices his own handwriting glaring up at him. 

Breath catching in his throat, Remus pulls out a letter he wrote, over 12 years ago. Tears form as he reads the words from his 15 year-old self, lonely and scared, faced with a full moon alone and the knowledge that his boyfriend is trapped in this house with his abusive mother and neglectful father. He can feel the longing through the paper, the need to be there, to kiss him and make everything better. It’s a feeling that never left. 

Heart constricting painfully, he sorts through each letter, reading the words he’d put there all those years ago. They’ve been lovingly preserved, evident from the careful creases in the paper and the neat organization. Every letter he’d ever written is now in his hands again. But the man he’d written them to is not. 

Remus begs himself not to cry, not to break down again. 

He lasts only a minute. 

~

Later that night, Remus climbs out onto the roof where they would always sit together, staring at the sky. He looks up at the stars that had always brought him comfort. His eyes find the Canis constellation almost immediately, drawn like always to the brightest star in the sky. The air is cool around him, the sky a deep deep blue. 

He sits there for a long time. 

Memory after memory flashes through his mind. The pain in his chest only grows with each passing second until he nearly can’t bear it anymore. Even being betrayed was better than losing him completely. Tears spill onto his cheeks until he’s crying, whole body shaking with sobs. He doesn’t want to feel it anymore. He wants the pain to go away. He wants him back. 

It’s nearly dawn when Remus moves again. The sky has lightened and his tears have dried on his cheeks. As he stares up at the disappearing constellations, heart in his throat, he whispers to the stars,

“Sirius, I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

[thornsofdeath]

phf rants

as i’ve made clear im rlly impacted by this book. dont mind my lowkey venting

damn this is long

mista's coldness towards fugo / the stadium scene as a whole

it really really hurt me to see mista treating fugo, his old partner, his old friend like a dangerous enemy. i know he had his valid reasoning, but that very specific kind of angst shatters me. mista had his gun pointed at fugo for the entire stadium scene, not wavering for even a second. the worst part? it seemed like mista was trying to purposefully incite fugo to snap by right out insulting him and his stand, saying he was glad when fugo didn’t get on the boat. it seemed like he was egging fugo on just so he had an excuse to kill him, to get one more thing off his list of concerns. fugo as a person meant nothing at all to mista. when mista said “kill these traitors, or we’ll kill you” i wanted to cry. mista goes on about hoe fugo is a massive threat because purple haze is unhinged and can wipe out the enitre population if he wanted. fugo politely corrects him, as PH only has 6 capsules and can only attack 6 times in a day. did i see myself in that scene and feel fugo’s pain of just wanting to be left alone and not have to think about the past or the future, silent and melancholic during intervention and just feeling like the only way out is to kms right then and there? thats a secret ill never tell.  phf makes me smad.

there were some little details in purple haze feedback that got me thinking as well. in the 6 months between fugo’s leave and his cold reuniting with mista, fugo was playing piano at a bar. Most of the people who bring this up refer to it as just some cool trick he could get because he’s a rich kid. he is not. in flashbacks, it’s shown that bruno only knows how to cope with distress by isolating himself and bottling everything up. god, did i feel that. sheila e’s life goal was to kill illuso (to avenge her sister) and swore her life to giorno after finding out he killed him, it’s ironic though because in reality fugo had killed him, and in the first part of the book, they weren’t exactly friends. 

another part that really just made me wanna sob and bash my head into a wall was seeing fugo’s pure self hatred. since he was a child, he had it drilled into his head that if he couldnt produce results, he was worthless. after being disowned and thrown into jail with no future, he was completely hopeless. even after bruno came and took him in, he was never free of his liabilities. no matter what he did, he couldnt help seeing himself as some monster, failure, and burden. (kinnie moment) it worsened when he had to abandon bruno’s gang, his only saving grace was bruno, his light, hope, and acceptance. now he was stripped of that, gripped in fear knowing too well that betraying passione would end horribly. deep in his heart he wanted so badly to join them, to join his found family, but the logic he had drilled into his own head of knowing that betrayal was foolish and futile wouldnt let him have his way. hes back on the streets, just like how he was (or wouldve been after getting out of jail) after being disowned. he got a piano gig at a bar, and let himself wallow in grief and depression for 6 months. throughout the events pf PHF, we still see him clinging to memories and trauma. they say “what you let consume you will define you”, and i couldnt begin to describe it any better. putting all of the guilt and blame on his own shoulders, feeling he deserved it all and more. 

either i wasnt paying enough attention (this bitch got some rereading to do) or the purple haze distortion scene was kinda underwhelming. his character arc felt kinda rushed, like most of the book was establishing his bad state and constant flashbacks, and then all of a sudden he has confidence in his abilities and believes in himself. of course, im overjoyed he did get growth, and had a happy ending (depends on how you interpret it). stan fugio

vittorio’s fascination with pain really got me feelin. hgghhhhhhhh hh hnnhhhhh. he describes it well, wanting to feel his life force/energy in the form of pain so that he didnt ‘go extinct’, and the writing of it just saying straight up ‘cutting himself’ ‘hurting himself’ ‘self harming’ made my skin crawl. as someone who suffers with shit like that its both painful and relieving to know a character who has similar habits, whether it’s for the purpose of activating his stand or just to cope. 

2 times in phf, fugo does some kind of suicide attack. of course, he survives both. it’s never made clear whether or not he intended to die/didnt mind dying as it was a way of accomplishing his mission, but either way it got me heavy breathing. the last one especially, when he bites a virus capsule to kill volpe. did he know he’d grown and purple haze would miraculously save him with his own genius plan, or was he going out with a bang? luckily for me it wasnt really gone over like ‘hey you couldve died from that are you doing ok mentally’ or else i mightve felt nauseous reading it. im all for angst, but idk how much more i can take when its day 87 of quarantine and im numb as fuck just waiting to break down. 

angelica’s stand night bird flying (is probably not that complicated im just fuckin dumb) made fugo and everyone else hallucinate/dream. in fugo’s dream, it was pretty much an ideal au.  he was permitted to see his grandma when she was near death (preventing the professor scene), met bruno (fisher boy with fisher dad) on a boat and they became friends, nara went back to school and was doing good overall, abba remained a cop but didnt do any bad things, the whole group was all just good friends having a fun time. god i would licherally sell my body and soul for them all to be happy like that and all live. 

the concept of abandonment also messed me up, just the feeling that everyone say fugo as someone who abandoned the group in their hour of need out of selfishness made me wanna cry angry sad depression tears. hes a good man! let him be ok and happy i will fight all fugo haters no cap

every time i think back to the fugio restaurant scene i just. idk man it hurts me. the pessimistic bitch in me says that it would be unrequited and fugo would only be more sad because even through his efforts, he’s just another pawn working for giorno. on the other hand, it makes me soft n giddy because?? omyfucking god giorno asks fugo to call him giogio when NOBODY ELSE IN THE BOOK had referred to him as that. the fuckin “if grief anchors your feet, let me share it” part makes me wanna jusyt. complete my kin transformation into fugo and be a sobbin g  shaking mess in his arms as he tells me its all gonna be ok. was that a vent? absolutely. anyways, its pretty damn special for the don of the mafia to invite you to breakfast at a fancy restaurant before the place opens and its just the two of you. giorno fixes fugo’s injuries and tells him that he’s proud of his growth, and that he knew fugo could do it. dude?????? if i didnt already know i was a lonely affection/affirmation/attention starved bitch that wouldve done it for me.

holy fuck that was longer than i expected it to be. i do feel better tho