#innocence lost who will give me back my youth

[sueske]

:/

[pigfacedbitch]

Way Back Home

summary : visiting May Castellan after the Battle of Manhattan

word count : 1.1k

type : imagines

pairing/s : Sibling! Luke Castellan x Reader

warning/s : death, mourning for loved ones, and the unfairness mortals go through because of the gods

here is my masterlist!

Note : I'm not going to lie, I thought about this for a long time. I picked Phillipa Soo from Hamilton because she's perfect for the role. I SWEAR THAT IF THEY CHOOSE ANYONE ELSE, WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A PROBLEM! DON'T THEY SEE THE POTENTIAL?

After the battle, like everyone else, you mourn for your lost. Specifically, Luke Castellan.

Sure, he was the traitor who betrayed your trust, caused the death of friends and siblings, and nearly brought the world to ruin by aiding Kronos. But before all that, he was your brother.

Your loving, funny, patient, older brother, the one you always confided in. He gave you affection and encouragement when you needed it, and for a time, the anchor in your fucked up demigod life.

As much as you want to forget him, you can't. You loved him dearly.

While going through the belongings he left in the Hermes Cabin, you come upon a picture of his mother.

When you first asked Luke about her, the grim expression on his face was enough for you to never ask about her again.

Until he opened up to you, saying she was cursed by the spirit of Delphi and this made him run away from home.

You thought of Rachel O' Dare, the red headed girl who is now Apollo's Oracle, and what it means for May Castellan.

Is she okay? Is her curse lifted anyhow? Is she aware of what happened?

Then it hit you. You can visit her and see for yourself, but you didn't want to go alone.

When you suggested it to Annabeth, she was hesitant.

After all, she had her own painful memories in that house; particularly May's glowing green eyes and manic behavior.

However, she knew it was necessary. It will give her the complete closure she needed with Luke, as will you.

As expected, Annabeth told Percy, Thalia, and Grover about it. While they were doubtful that it would end well, they agreed to come along for both your sakes.

Just as you were about to leave Camp Half-Blood, you are surprised to see some of your siblings waiting by Thalia's tree.

"Leaving without us?" Travis asks with a smirk as you approach.

"May we go with you? We promise we won't trash her house." Connor adds.

"What are you guys—" Travis cuts you off, the usual mischief in his eyes replaced with solemnity.

"Luke was our brother too." He says, walking closer to pull you in an embrace. "So, we're not going to let you go through this alone. Got it?"

"Excuse me, we're here!" Percy remarks, sarcastic. "We're also supporting her.”

"Do you hear anyone, guys?" Connor asks, feigning confusion. "Because, I don't."

"Why, you son of a bitch—"

"True, but that's not the point. Let's go!" Connor interjects. The rest try to muffle their laughs, including you.

You arrived at the Castellan residence— a once-beautiful home with white fences and a front lawn. You can almost imagine Luke as a baby, carefree and happy with his mother and Hermes.

Oh, how that poor child turned out.

It was you who knocked on the door, with everyone else on standby. A woman, looking lost and broken, answered with a meek "H-Hello?"

She wasn't as Annabeth had described, but she wasn't the youthful, beautiful woman from Luke's pictures either.

The sight of her alone made you wanted to march to Olympus and shove your foot down your dad's ass.

Nevertheless, she invited you into her home. You frown upon seeing the mess, especially the Kool-Aid and moldy sandwiches in Tupperware containers.

As you, Annabeth, and Thalia explain what happened; you braced for a violent reaction. Instead, she just cries.

Without thinking, you got emotional and pulled her into a hug, apologizing frantically for something you didn't even fully understand. Was it guilt for Luke's downfall? Anger at the gods for the suffering they caused innocent mortals like like his mom?

You immediately pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the broken woman who, like so many others, had lost a child whose life was just beginning.

The others started to help around the house while you console her— cleaning up the mess, fixing the lights, plumbing, even mowing the lawn and painting the fence. You had no idea where they got the supplies from, and when you asked Travis, he just winked.

Percy was having a blast with the water, Annabeth had to calm him down.

May wept once more, this time from overwhelming happiness. Her home wasn't the same as before, but it's getting there. It'll be better with time, like her.

She managed to gain composure after a while, and thanked all of you for coming.

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything to offer right now." She says, mustering a smile. "But if you need assistance, don't hesitate to come over."

As you all drove off, you could hear the neighbors complain about missing cleaning house supplies. Annabeth turns to your brother with a frown.

"Travis!"

"What? We needed it!"

Chiron was pleased to see how it turned out. Due to your initiative, he proposed an idea. Every fallen demigod must be honored, not only by burial rites, but their mortal families shall receive visitations and gifts if they choose to accept it.

The program is ongoing, and he specifically asked you to handle it.

Wow, too much work with no pay but okay.

May occasionally gives you and your siblings gifts and generously welcomes demigods in need, offering them food and shelter during their missions. She even entrusted you with a baby picture of Luke, a cherished keepsake among your belongings.

Then one night, Hermes visited you in your dreams. You've met him before, but this time he seem different. Happier. At peace.

He expresses his gratitude, and offered you anything you wanted.

"I want to punch you. Not as a god, as a human."

You expected him to smite you on the spot, but Hermes just laughs in amusement and agrees.

When you swung, you transferred all your pent-up emotions into your fist. It landed squarely on his perfect jaw, and you couldn’t help but smirk as he fell to the ground.

"You're stronger than I thought." He says.

"Well, I had to be."

Hermes’ smile falters at your words, and awkward silence followed.

"He's happy, dearest. Luke… He's in Elysium with the others."

Unfazed by the bruise forming on his jaw, he presses a kiss on your head.

“He's fine now. And you will be too.”

“I know.”

The next day, you woke up with the biggest smile on your face, gloating that you got to punch Hermes himself.

You're pretty sure that most of your siblings are now praying to him for the exact same thing.

[prime-adeptus]

NOTHING IS LOST (YOU GIVE ME STRENGTH) – FUSHIGURO MEGUMI & READER

As minimal as this may seem, you wonder if he knows how much it means to you that he came. Your days have been lonely with you feeling increasingly out of touch with everything, but everything feels fine with Megumi by your side. Or, the one where you find your way back home.

TAGS.⠀gender-neutral reader; ambiguous relationship; childhood friends; aged-up au/canon divergence; brief smoking; angst & hurt/comfort; mental health issues, talks of death/suicide ideation, implied past suicide attempts; mild gore; near-death experiences; drifting apart and coming back together. hopeful/happy ending. SFW. 3,9k words

A/N.⠀my first work after so long and it's just a ventfic LOL sorry i have been looping phoebe bridgers and lorde for ages.

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always felt things fervently.

One moment you’d feel euphoric, like you’re walking on air and nothing can get you down, but then everything crumbles and you’re left as nothing but an empty husk. It’s ironic how emptiness can feel so heavy, a constant weight on your shoulders, constant tugs at your heartstrings. 

Despite all the things you hate about yourself, there’s still one part of you that you’ll always remember with pride: there is no limit to the unconditional love you can give to people. It’s taken some time for you to decide you want to live and love as much as you can. 

But for some reasons you couldn’t fathom, these days, you feel as though your love is forced. Unnatural. Ingenuine. Like it’s just something you’ve gotten used to doing passively. Like you no longer believe, like you are living a lie. 

In a way, maybe you are. The longer you are surrounded by your fellow Jujutsu sorcerers, the more aware you become of how rotten this world can get. Plagued with death, unhappiness and turmoil on every corner, and with humans repeating the same mistakes, you’ve begun to believe that this is all hopeless. You’re well aware that it’s quite a pessimistic view to hold, but in the world that you are in, you find that it keeps you grounded. A realist. 

Or, as your beloved teacher Gojo Satoru would call you, a downer.

The sound of his voice referring to you as such makes you click your tongue in irritation. There’s not much you know about him, but the bitter part of you believes that  he  of all people should at least understand how you feel. You hold your position as a jujutsu sorcerer in high regard and with honour, but as time passes by, you’ve started to contemplate if it’s even worth it at all.

You wonder if people know that you weren’t always this way — as a child, you were bright-eyed and innocent, full of love for people and the world. Growing and going through life shattered it all, making you a husk of what you once were, and even now, you still don’t know who you’re supposed to be.

You lie and you cheat, tricking people into believing that you’re independent and fine on your own, but you are lonelier than words can describe.

And just what do you live for? You’ve survived time and time again by sheer instinct and reflex, but you still don’t know what your purpose is. You fight and you risk your life to keep other people safe at the cost of your wellbeing. Every day is a task to complete for the greater good, but what’s in store for you? You’ve grown distant from your parents — on your end, anyway; it’s difficult to read people — and your once close friends rarely contact you anymore. All you have are your peers, but you still feel so out of place among them. 

The cigarette burns between your fingers as you stare off into space by the edge of the river. At the mere age of nineteen, you feel as though you’ve lived several lives, all of which have harrowed you to no end. Nicotine flows in your system as you take yet another drag, wondering if this is what your youth was meant to be. Years of saving the city in favour of feeling like you’re wanted, needed should’ve made you feel happy. Yet here you are, alone in the streets of Tokyo, all because there’s nothing waiting for you at home.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” a voice says from beside you. It’s deep and quiet, almost monotonous, but you’d recognise the hint of concern anywhere. Megumi slightly grimaces at the sight of you exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I don’t.” With a scoff, you put out the cigarette in the ashtray and turn to face him instead. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

He frowns. It amuses you how it seems to have been a permanent expression etched on his face since you were kids. You don’t remember if you’ve ever seen him with a different look, but that’s on you, you suppose. You haven’t spent much time with him for a while now. Time ages you and your weariness distances you from those you wish to stay close to.

When he doesn’t reply, you speak up again, “I'm trying.”

“I know.” He glances at you. As blunt as he sounds, you know he means well; that’s just the way he is. He looks like he has more to say but he doesn’t, instead opting to hand you a packet of your favourite mints. Any other time you’d take it as an insult, but you find yourself getting sentimental over the fact that he still remembers what you like. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, popping one into your mouth. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

The corner of his lips quirks downward for a split second. With a quiet sigh, he lightly flicks your forehead, not reacting at all to the indignant yelp you let out. 

“Where’s your jacket?” he asks in a chiding tone, though there isn’t any venom in it. “You’ll get sick. I don’t want you sneezing on me.”

“You always take care of me, though,” you grumble without thinking, putting on the jacket that was previously tied around your waist. Another beat passes before you realise what you’ve blurted out. Were you being too familiar with him? You’re not sure if he still wants to be friends after all that isolation you’ve been doing. You part your lips to apologise, but he interrupts with a huff and a flick to your forehead again.

“Shut up.” The pink flush on the tips of his ears betrays the irked expression he wears. You’re not sure whether it’s because of the chilly air or if it’s because he’s blushing, but it brings a smile to your face nonetheless. “Let’s go back.”

As minimal as this may seem, you wonder if he knows how much it means to you that he came. Your days have been lonely with you feeling increasingly out of touch with everything, but everything feels fine with Megumi by your side.

You were only twelve when you started seeing Curses everywhere you went.

You’d never been the type to get scared too easily, but there was something about those creatures that unsettled you to the core. They seemed horrifically disfigured and hungry, ready to pounce at any moment, and you could only be brave for so long. You tried telling your mother and your friends only to be met with suspicious and concerned looks. 

They thought you were crazy. You didn’t blame them for that. You never believed in the paranormal, so this sudden change must’ve been quite a shock. It wasn’t until two years later did you learn what they were and that you could exorcise them, somehow like they did in the horror movies. Your memory of your recruitment is hazy, but you did remember sitting with Megumi and Gojo in the car and asking the most questions you’ve ever asked in your lifetime. Your new teacher found it amusing; your classmate, however, did not.

Your mother didn’t seem to mind sending you to a boarding school. With an elaborate lie about your full scholarship told by Gojo, she’d beamed in joy and helped you pack your bags. She’d be too busy to actually notice your absence, but that didn’t stop her from sending a message to check in on you every once in a while. At some point, you stopped responding. Not because you were annoyed, but rather, you just didn’t have the energy to.

Ironically, for a school with quite a handful of staff and students, you never felt lonelier in your life. You stuck by Megumi’s side for the sole reason that he was the only one you felt comfortable enough to approach. You didn’t talk to him much, but he was good company and you came to consider him a friend. Eventually, he started approaching you as well, and you’d spend time together like regular friends would do. It felt nice to be able to be around someone and not have to explain yourself all the time. 

In hindsight, you think it’s your fault that you’re so distant from everyone now. You don’t quite know when it all began—the depressing thoughts, the near-uncontrollable impulses, the lack of care for your safety and well-being. Every time your teachers or a peer brought it up, you’d simply dismiss it as just a ‘hormone thing’ which seemed enough to make them stop asking. Megumi didn’t believe a thing. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to know that.

But what else could you do? You’re alone, and it’s not like anyone can help with whatever the fuck is happening in your head. Your mother got you in touch with professionals to help with your troubles, and even if she doesn’t say it much, you know she’s always worried sick and thinks you should just come home. You’ve been able to keep yourself in check since then, but with the sadness now mostly gone, you now have to deal with the void in your chest that plagues you constantly.

The forest surrounding the dormitories is quiet save for the leaves rustling in the wind and the cicadas chirping their evening tune. You’re not sure how long it’s been since your last official mission. You haven’t been good at keeping track of the time for a while now. But at the very least, you know that it’s been too long.

There’s no doubt Gojo had something to do with it, you think bitterly. Otherwise, you’d be as busy as your peers right now. If there’s one thing you hate about this place, it’s the fact that no one here ever really gives you a proper reason. You feel trapped, ignored, and maybe if you were more carefree you’d look past it, but you’re not. If they didn’t believe in your abilities, you’d show them; you don’t think being the underdog is that bad, after all. Maybe they’ll finally recognise your prowess and respect you.

With your heart pounding hard against your chest, you grab your ootachi and flee, letting your instincts guide you to wherever feels the most dangerous, exciting. The more rational part of you tells you that you’re going to be in trouble if you don’t turn back now, but you find that you really couldn’t care less.

You need to feel alive. You need to feel afraid, to feel something, anything. While you don’t mind resting, you also didn’t overwork yourself to the bone just to remain stagnant. You didn’t spend weeks training with every weapon the school had to offer just to let them rust. You didn’t hone your cursed techniques only to not use them at all. So punishment and criticism be damned, you’re going to do what you want whether people like it or not.

You find yourself standing in front of a dingy abandoned shrine in the woods. Unease settles in the air as you slowly creep into the light of the moon. It’s dim, incredibly so, but you can’t afford to be afraid of the dark now —you have something to prove, and you’re not going to let yourself be intimidated by something so childish. There are blood splatters on the cobblestone steps, both fresh and dried, and your grip tightens on the handle of your sword. Your instinct to fight rears its head within your body, adrenaline and the humane need to survive rushing through your veins, but you breathe and try to rein it all in.

You have to think.

(It’s quite ironic how for someone who doesn’t give a single shit about their life, you always fight your hardest so you can live.)

You take another step. A twig snaps beneath the weight of your foot. The dried leaves crunch and rustle like someone (or rather, something) is sizing you up, keeping itself unseen to take you by surprise. Incomprehensible gargled sentences echo from within and the stench of death and decay grows stronger. Even when fear starts to wrap you in its cold embrace, you walk through the gate and into the dark shrine. Your blood runs cold and your breath gets caught in your throat, but you force yourself to face the task at hand.

You’re met with a grotesque mass of green; all of its endless bloodshot eyes leer at you as its tendrils slither in your direction. Misshapen hands protrude from those tendrils and reach for you, taunting you with the blood and entrails stuck to their skin and nails, telling you that you are next. 

Not today.

An aura of black and purple coats your sword as you withdraw it from its sheath. It’s not the best space to utilise such a long sword—the shrine is somewhat cramped and is lacking in space for mobility, much less combat —but you grit your teeth and decide that you will adapt. Electricity crackles from your blade, and without any more hesitation, you charge. Its tendrils are faster than you had anticipated; they come close to wrapping themselves around your legs until your cursed energy latches on to them and forces them to disintegrate.

The curse glares at you in fury. You can practically hear your heartbeat as you slash through its tendrils, splattering the wooden floors with its steaming blood. A guttural growl leaves the curse and the air feels thicker; it’s getting hard to breathe and your vision is starting to fade. 

Am I going to die here?

There’s a sharp pain in your gut. The sword slips out of your grasp and blood sputters out of your lips. When you look down, you realise that the curse has pierced through you.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it fucking hurts.

But you can’t die here. Not like this, not without a fight.

Shakily, weakly, you put your hands together, breathe, and with the last of your strength, you fire a powerful blast that hits the curse square in the centre, making it screech in pain. Vapour rises from its form as it melts into the ground and eventually dissipates. A relieved sigh leaves you, but then the world spins, your body hurts even more, and before you know it, everything goes dark.

You fall into nothing.

(Somewhere not too far from the shrine, apprehension crawls into Fushiguro Megumi’s system.

He doesn’t hesitate. He follows the curse residue and he runs.)

You wake with a dull ache between your ribs.

The first thing you see is never-ending walls of white. There’s a generic decorative painting on the wall along with an old clock that tells you it’s a quarter past noon. Blearily, you realise that you’re in the infirmary, and judging from the soreness that spreads through your body and into your limbs, you’re still alive.

Somehow, you’re not as happy about it as you should be.

You feel like you’ve been through hell and back. In a way, you did. You’re too tired to regret your poor decisions from who knows how long ago, and you’re not a stranger to deliberately ignoring whatever makes you feel like shit. So you do just that all while staring blankly at the wall in front of you, hoping that you’ll eventually fall asleep again and forget. Maybe even not wake up until the month ends.

(You’ve come to a realisation that you don’t want to die anymore; you just want to stop existing for a while, get yourself together then come back when you’re ready. Like pausing a game or a video being played, you don’t lose the progress, but you sure as hell forget what the hell happened earlier.)

The door slides open. You contemplate pretending to be unconscious again, but your ears pick up heavy footfalls on the tiled floor and you decide maybe you shouldn’t. 

“Hey, Ieiri-sensei,” you croak out, weakly raising two of your fingers in a peace sign. “I’m alive and moving.”

She hums, amused as she makes her way over to your bedside. “Yes, you are. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit?”

“Good. You would’ve been dead if Fushiguro-kun hadn’t found you. Can you stand?”

She gently urges you off the bed, hoisting you up by the shoulders as you try to maintain balance after being bedridden for hours. Or days. Or even weeks. You’re not sure.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

The concerning duration of your bedridden state goes completely ignored. All you can think about is the mention of Megumi. 

You would’ve been dead if Fushiguro-kun hadn’t found you. 

“What do you mean he found me?”

She smiles wryly. “That boy’s been worried about you. Ran off from Satoru as soon as he felt a ‘weird pressure.’ What were you fighting?”

You shrug and wince at how stiff you feel. God, you hate this. Your legs are shaky as she helps you walk out of the infirmary and on the familiar path back to the dormitories. The school is quiet, making you wonder where everyone’s gone for the day.

“Some curse thing. Had tentacles and slimy skin. It was gross.”

“Well, that thing punctured you right there.” She gestures toward your chest. “Surprisingly it didn’t hit any vital organs, but you still lost a lot of blood. Did you exorcise it in the end?”

“I did.” A beat of silence passes. “Am I in trouble?”

“Yaga-sensei’s suspended you for a month. Oh, Fushiguro-kun. Just in time.” She helps you sit on a stone bench as Megumi approaches, his fingers furling and then relaxing by his sides. “They still need some support when they’re walking, but they’re healing quickly. They’ll be fine..”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I’m still in my thirties, silly.” She ruffles your hair affectionately. “Be careful, hm? Come see me if there’s anything else.”

As Ieiri-sensei takes her leave, Megumi sits down next to you on the bench. His brows furrow the same way they always do when he’s thinking of how to say something nicely. He opts for silence instead, eyeing you cautiously. It almost feels offensive, but it’s only then that you’re aware of the bandages that cover essentially your whole upper body, so you brush it off. If someone else were in your position, you’d be worried sick too.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this visibly upset (well, for someone like Megumi anyway) over anything, and knowing that it’s because of you strikes you with a pang of guilt. With your lips pursed, you avoid his demanding look and glance at your hands instead. The bruises have almost faded away by now. Ieiri-sensei must’ve worked herself to the bone to patch you up.

“I’m not happy, Megumi.” Your throat closes up and your nose burns as the tears start to form and fall. “I’ve been trying to force myself to feel something. It didn’t matter what it was. I just hate being like this all the time.”

It hurts to cry. It hurts trying not to. Your state of mind is in tatters and you’re desperately doing your best to hold yourself together, but the way he’s looking at you makes you drop your guard completely.

“I know I’m surrounded by people, but I still feel so alone.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything. That’s fine, you think. The last thing you’d want to do is pressure him to speak his mind. He takes every word into consideration and thinks a lot by default, and if he’s still the same boy you knew all those years ago, he’d prefer to let his actions speak for themselves. 

“You didn’t have to come for me,” you murmur. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”

“No.” He pauses for a moment as if he’s trying to formulate what he wants to say into words that won’t feel like jabs. He huffs quietly. “I want to stay with you.”

Hearing him say those words practically has you melting on the spot, your heart fluttering as warmth rushes to your cheeks. You reach for his hand instinctively and with the slightest bit of hesitation, he responds by lacing your fingers together. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. You don’t know if it’s because you’re still exhausted or if it’s because you’re worried you’ll upset him somehow. Either way, it takes so much out of you just to talk anymore. “I’m trying.”

He squeezes your hand softly. “I know.”

“I say that to you a lot, don’t I?” you chuckle, leaning against his shoulder. I’m trying. You tell it to him every time you don’t have anything else to say, but it hardly feels true. Or maybe you’re just overly critical of everything you do, expecting yourself to reach certain heights before you consider yourself enough. 

“You are trying,” Megumi says. “Even now.”

You smile weakly. “You think so?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” He lets go of your hand and your heart sinks, wondering if you’d done or said something wrong, but then he gently flicks your forehead the same way he always used to do when you were kids. “I found you bleeding out on the ground.”

“Pretty gnarly, wasn’t it?” you joke, laughing nervously. He shoots you a glare that shuts you up immediately.

“We were worried about you,” he continues, ignoring your interruption. “I was worried about you. I thought you were going to die.”

“Is this the part where I tell you that all jujutsu sorcerers die at some point?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I didn’t know I was that important to you.”

“We grew up together.” You feel a slight weight as he rests your head on top of yours with a sigh. “You’ve always been with me. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there.”

It’s unusual for him to be this open about his feelings; he’s never been the overly sentimental type like you are, so to have him be this vulnerable with you makes you feel like you’re going to burst. The cool breeze passes by as you hesitantly take his hand again, and for the first time in so long, you find yourself genuinely smiling. He cares about you. He loves you, despite what that voice in your head tells you otherwise. It’ll take a while for you to change or get used to knowing these things, but for him, you’ll do everything you can. You’ll live — if not for yourself, then for him. And as slow and tedious as your path to recovery may be, both physically and mentally, you think that it’ll be worth the endeavour because you’re not alone. 

You are loved.

You are loved by him, and for now, that is enough to quell every anxiety in the back of your mind.

You glance at him. “Wanna watch a movie later?” 

Almost imperceptibly, he smiles back. “Sure.”

(You never end up finishing the movie.

Halfway through, exhaustion gets the better of you, and you fall into a deep sleep on the bean bag you borrowed from the recreation room. When you wake in the morning, you’re sore and aching all over, but the blanket draped over your frame and the arm around your waist makes you forget about it for a moment.

With a content smile, you curl closer.

He’s still the same Megumi you’ve always known.)

[throwaway-yandere]

Therapy (Yandere Idol!Ayato/Reader)

A/n: The CEO finally let me write “a/n” instead of “mother of Klee, Alice’s note” from now on now that the shareholder is missing! Anywaaaayysss… You look well-rested, Producer fox! What’s your secret? Won’t you tell mother Alice?

CW: hypnosis, panic attacks

Yandere 1k Idol Event

“(Y/n)... (Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n).”

Kamisato Ayato chanted your name, voice dipping into a borderline death threat.

“My dear producer, isn’t this far enough? I am not playing games anymore. Why don’t you reveal yourself before I make you?”

You made no sound inside the closet you’ve claustrophobically folded your knees and arms to fit into. Both hands covered your mouth while your heart beat erratically– but the sensation surely had less friction compared to Ayato’s fingers. 

He chuckled darkly. “Not up to it? Oh, but what if I started counting to three?”

You bit your lip, holding back tears.

A moment ago, you saw him rip his pillows in half after realizing you were no longer sleeping in his bed. Cotton materials were littered above his azure sheets and some were swept by the wind, dangerously close to the closet you were hiding in. His elegant demeanor crumbled and you jolted at the sharp sound of torn cloth. Ayato repeatedly clawed through the bed, his breathing guttural and erratic as he fruitlessly threw the rest of the pillows away. Your name no longer sounded right to you. It doesn’t sound like it was yours with the way he mumbles it like a curse or a lost possession. 

Although his face couldn't be seen from this perspective, you can still picture his lips being uncannily spread from ear to ear. Your muscles tensed even more at the sound of his feral yet strained laughter. You don’t know where you are but based on how isolated the area was, you’re clued on a bit as to approximately where he’s keeping you hidden. 

This is not his estate. This is not any of Teyvat Production’s buildings. The answer is closer to these keywords: Grand Narukami Land Reform Program. 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as his footsteps echoed louder– closer. Nausea started creeping in.

Be quiet… be quiet like a fox, (Y/n)…!

“Come now, Producer (L/n). Do you no longer trust me? I'll start counting. One… Two…”

—---

“It’s three o clock, sir– where have you been?”

Dressed in fine yet slovenly material, Kamisato Ayato enters the room. Looking from afar tells you what you need to know about him. Yes, he’s a byproduct of an aristocratic family who pursued an artistically sensitive path of politics, but by his smile alone, anyone can tell he's a notable outlier. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he stared at you. As always, his lean body stands firm, not unlike a Hinoki tree on a misty morning. This is precisely the reason why your eyes targeted his wet clothing and not his well-versed smile.

Unimpressed by his absence while you were out working for the entire day, you asked as politely as you could. You've been bombarded with tasks as of late, disastrously to the point that you even started managing the Inazuman food supplies in the cafeteria.

"Sir Kamisato, may I inquire as to why you look positively haggard?" 

The idol grins wryly at your voice before squeezing some locks of his hair near his scalp. His pursed lip belied both child-like innocence and weariness of a man without youthful aspirations. Some sweat also seeped between his fingers, which only served to amplify your distress.

Ayato averted his gaze, intent on answering you without giving too much of himself away.

"It was a difficult singing session and the space lacked ventilation."

"It's snowing." You deadpanned.

Ayato shrugged "It's a… mixture of both sweat and snow, I suppose."

You snatched the script off his hands. 

Needless to say, he was definitely not practicing a song.

"Didn't Thoma or Childe agree to accompany you?"

Before making the switch to idol work, Childe was once known as Tartaglia in the theater industry. You suspect he's the reason behind Ayato's current fixation on acting. It's not a secret that Sir Kamisato had been eyeing the barren sixth and tenth spots of the Commedia Del Arte troupe for quite a while now…

"Thoma attended a talk show with Aether and Zhongli whereas Childe was preoccupied with his training."

Archery training most likely for that man’s next athletic competition, but you're not Producer Sage so you don't particularly care. Your eyebrows furrowed. 

"Do you want to stay in ADDICKTZ longer than necessary?"

For a moment, his expression stiffened before it relaxed back into his usual languid smile.

If a well-dressed atheist quietly sits through a mass, most devotees cannot tell whether they're worshipping or attending. The same reasoning can be used to explain Kamisato Ayato's reputation. The juxtaposition of the perfect princely archetype paired with a stressed-out overachiever– that was your opinion on him the first few weeks you worked in Teyvat Productions. And you were right.  

Sir Kamisato had always been open to you about his detachment from the idol group. In his eyes, every ADDICKTZ-related activity is a mere play pretend worthy enough for him to generate fabricated happiness to fuel his agendas. His idol works are not so different from the nihonga pieces the Kamisato Clan collected throughout the generations– a beautiful artwork, but not something he's deeply involved in. His career thrived off countless facework and dramaturgical approaches in fan interactions, false but not cheap. He is what the creative director and his assistant made him out to be, and he doesn't seem content or completely dissatisfied with this arrangement.

It’s obvious that he’s not here to satisfy Ayaka’s obsession with the idol industry– he’s your boss simply because there’s a political gain you aren’t privy to know the details to. 

You'd wager a guess that this career shift likely had something to do with the Kamisato clan's land reform scandals… but you're not here for politics. Lady Yae always watches your every move to make sure you know little regarding the “real” paperwork Sir Kamisato does. 

However, you can’t help but feel as if you were involved with one of these scandals before… you just can’t remember what incident it was.

"My apologies, Producer (L/n). I will not do it again."

"As you should." You pouted. "You caused me a great deal of worry."

Ayato opened his mouth before quickly shutting it. For a supposed political heir, words had failed him. His posture resembled that of an abandoned puppy as he slouched and sighed.

You laughed softly.

Open mind, open arms– you let him hug you gently as Ayato mumbled something about his workload. You’re so used to this that you didn’t mind how uncomfortably damp his back was. This is a normal occurrence between you two. After nearly half a year, Ayato opened up about missing his sister's hug after a long day and you offered to be a substitute. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, feeling him breathing softly near the shell of your ear. 

“Producer (L/n)…”

“Yes?”

“I must memorize the script before sundown…”

You shook your head. How surprisingly predictable of him to bring that up.

“I won’t let you pick it up until you have a thirty-minute rest.”

“Why don’t we make this a game then?” He pulled back, a sly smile gloating just a bit to let you know he doubts you’d win. “This will be our second acting game– see which one of us can perform the script best. Win, and I’ll be the one finishing this week’s paperwork.”

As an older brother, Sir Kamisato has a habit of inventing games. The "reading game," "cursive-writing game," and "hotpot game" were all unmistakably created to discipline and make his younger sister Ayaka behave. However, she is now a young adult, and you are unquestionably much older than she is. You're not clear as to why he believed this "acting game" tactic would work.

But the “second” acting game? You’ve never read a script aloud with him before, though.

Oh, well. Picking up a script is worth trading the paperwork you were meant to be doing. 

“If it lessens my workload, I don’t see why not…”

Working for the idol industry can be very demanding, after all. If you win, you'll probably squander your spare time to snack on sweets... and work on a few chores– okay, so you're not the best at being still. You’ll probably multitask working on Ayato’s theater work either way. That, or you'd plan a new deck for your next 25-minute TCG game with him. 

He grabbed the script from behind you as his smile got bigger. Ayato handed the pages back after swiftly leafing through them and pointing at the highlighted passages.

“Scene IV – Act IV,” he said, his excitement subtly infecting his tone. “This is where my character helps Emperor Edel relax.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “I was under the impression that Hubert was Kaeya’s role.”

“Ah, I’ve forgotten to inform you but I’ve replaced Alberich since the eye incident.”

You know little about this “We Will Be Reunited” play 4/8 of ADDICKTZ are involved in but based on word-of-mouth, it appeared to be about an emperor and a retainer who had to betray former classmates to win a continental war. Seems like he wanted you to read the emperor’s lines.

He dimmed the lights to set the scene. Thankfully, only the two of you occupied his TeyPro's room. There's no one else lingering in the east wing, including Dr. Albedo's room next door.

“I see…” You muttered. “So, I shall be the first to start, correct?”

Sir Kamisato nodded. “Yes, you can begin with the ‘you think this can help me?’ line.”

You cleared your throat and repeated the phrase with much fervor.

“– I mean, I trust you Hubert, but I’d rather not face another disappointment in life again.”

Just like that, Kamisato Ayato’s demeanor shifted.

“My emperor (Y/n), I know that trusting another person isn’t easy, especially for someone like you with high status,” he spoke, voice laced with compassionate conviction. “But you have placed your trust in me, and of course, I will not let you down.”

As you listened to his delivery, you struggled to contain your grin of pride. For someone who looked ready to sleep on the floor when he entered the room, his voice carried the emotional weight worthy of becoming a professional theater actor. Hence, you decided not to comment on how he used your name instead of “Emperor Edel” for the sake of momentum. He knows what he's doing. This is the first time he called you by your first name– he's trying to fluster you.

“Hubert…” You muttered melodramatically, not knowing how the character should act or sound. “Fine, do what you must.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

You took another glance at the script and noticed that there weren't as many lines left for your character, which annoyed you. It seemed that Sir Kamisato deliberately set you up to fail. How can you win when he hasn't even gotten through one-third of his lines and you have already finished yours?

“Edel, I need you to look at me,” he spoke softly. “I need you to listen to the sound of my voice and follow my lead, understood?"

Since you weren't sure what to say in the first place, you didn't improvise any lines. You continued to sit next to him. He raised his hand near your face while he reads his lines. Your eyes naturally focus on his index and middle fingers as he points them up in the air. You don't understand the reasoning behind it, but there would be consequences if you check the script to see if that's written down. He would make up some nonsensical justification to deduct your points for this "acting game.” It's obvious. He’s not the only person in the world who can plot things like these.

“Are you still listening?” He muttered in a crisp yet low voice. 

Your eyes squinted a little in an unsuccessful attempt to focus on his hazy image. You were naturally more inclined to focus on the two fingers between your faces, struggling to keep yourself awake.

… Struggling to keep yourself awake?

He moved his fingers slowly to the left.

“My liege, the pressure you’re carrying is an unimaginably heavy burden…” He slowly shifted his fingers to the right. His voice was barely above a whisper, and you were this siren’s only listener. 

There’s a rhythm in his delivery. The charisma that his singing voice would convey remained present in his speaking voice, “even the smallest of tasks have been assigned to you– each minor inconvenience stacking up stress you do not need to carry alone. But you must continue to trust me. Focus on no one else but me and my voice alone. Only I can help you relax.”

… Were you so tired from work that this acting is actually working on you?

His fingers moved to the left again. For unexplainable reasons, your breathing wasn’t as shallow as it was earlier. You’ve made a mental note of how deeper it was compared to when Ayato first entered the room. Still, it’s too much of a draining challenge to focus on his face that you allow yourself to become absorbed in watching his slender fingers instead. You can no longer see his blue hair or face clearly.

Unbeknownst to you, your mouth was slightly agape– 

and Ayato had been clenching his other hand tight in an attempt to resist the urge to capture your lips.

He dryly cleared his throat in a nearly inaudible sound.

Ayato needs to take this slowly.

He won't repeat the same mistake twice.

“T-This… ‘method’ may not be as comfortable as I would’ve hoped, perhaps a tad bit extreme, but I assure you that it is effective (Y/– Edel.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Please, follow my lead…”

Of course.

“Left… Right… Left… Right…”

Your eyes moved as commanded.

“Left… Right… Left… Right…”

He chanted those words thrice and more.

… Why do you feel like you’ve done this several times before?

Sir Kamisato kept talking and talking…

His features blurred and the outline of his lips and nose disappeared, but his lilac eyes were clear. Eerily clear. As if it was the only feature of his visage left. You held back a yawn. You're sloppily reminded that the room remained dark, lulling you without questioning his face’s uncanny emptiness. 

Nearly faceless. 

You blinked laconically. 

What’s going…?

“Sir Kamisato I…” You yawned, unable to keep it in for much longer. “I-I think I might have to take a break…”

Kamisato Ayato smiled, but you couldn’t see that.

“An important dimens… to the concept of hyp…. thera… is how the therap… and their …ient perceive their environment. One impor… set of beliefs the patient must hold is their concepti… of trust they have for their therapi… and the safet… that co… along… with it.”

You could no longer follow his string of words.

Was that… from the script? Or is he talking to you?…

He continued, his grin growing wider.

“It warms my heart to know that you trust me, my b…ved. Trust me enough to beli… I would receive the… lead role– trust me enough to mindlessly believe that there’s a scene in …. that requires hypnosis therapy.”

“Take a break. You deserve the rest more than I do.”

That was the only full sentence you understood.

“Promise…” You yawned again, fluttering your eyes shut. “Promise you’ll wake me up?”

He laughed.

—------

Kamisato Ayato opened the door to the closet and your heart finally sank. You gasped as a pair of empty lilac eyes towered and stared down at you. He bent down and roughly grabbed you by the arm like one of his sister's stuffed animals, leaving you with nowhere to run. Your perception of an upstanding nobleman was shattered and stepped on as his twitching hands yanked you by the collar. 

His fingertips were red. His fingertips were warm– and it was all because of the mess he made with the torn-up pillows earlier.

He found you. 

The first game concluded, and much like the second game with “Edel” and “Hubert” in the present, Kamisato Ayato won this round.

“There you are. Why, I never would’ve guessed that you’re a sleepwalker–... (L/n)...? (L/n)? Why are you…”

Kamisato Ayato, a broken boy, hugged you. You can’t hear him– you can’t breathe enough– you can’t feel his warmth– all you feel is a restricting pain in your chest that screams this was the end of the line. You could no longer function.

He can't have that. He doesn't want to see you like this.

He loves you. Don't you understand that?

Then why were you shaking?

“No. No, no– b-breathe, breathe… W-Why do you look so terrified? P-Please… “ His hands trembled as he held you. No longer from anger, but from fear.

He doesn't want to break you.

“Please don’t be scared of me, (Y/n),” he whimpered desperately.

"T-Thoma! I need help, right now!" Ayato bit his lip, as he rubbed circles on your shoulders. He doesn't know what to do, but there's only one objective left in his mind–

Kamisato Ayato needed to find a way to put you back together.

---------

He nodded, playing with your hair.

It's been months since that incident now. Thanks to Lady Yae's help, you would've likely forgotten all about it. You're back, almost brand new, and your health had became his priority.

Kamisato Ayato, idol and heir of the Kamisato Clan, will not repeat the same mistake twice.

“Promise, I won't forget to wake you up, (Y/n). After all, it seems I'm close to mastering my skills on 'EM██ th██apy'.” 

Ayato cooed and kissed your forehead, but you were already deep in sleep to know that.

“I promise I will no longer break you, unlike last time, my beloved.”

Ansytea: thank you, 🦊 anon for joining the match-ups~ and hehe happy holidays to you as well!!!

[melkyt]

Vampire!Luffy

Vampire Hunter!Zoro

Few vampires are worth the challenge of a hunt. Those who are careless enough not to follow the rules and get caught are usually nothing but idiot fledglings. Zoro can cut down with one hand behind his back

Though sometimes there are the feral ones. Those whose bloodlust is insatiable, those that never stood a chance and can only lose themselves in the pulsing red heartbeat of humanity as they yearn to consume what they have lost.

That is what he is tracking now, a feral vampire that has left the bodies of countless hunters in its wake. Yet as he follows the trail he never once found a civilian victim. Which is what excites him the most. Even though they kill like a feral, there is still some self-control left in the bloodthirst.

He tracks it to a church that seems to worship the sun, the natural enemy of vampires. An odd choice out of all the buildings in the village, it picks the one that symbolizes its death.

Zoro walks in with a careful step. At first, he does not see it in the dark of the night. Then the clouds part, bathing the church in the light of the moon.

In the center is the vampire. Silver curls dancing in the light, bright red eyes full of confident joy. No sign in his eyes of being a feral.

He laughs. Then in the blink of an eye, he disappears.

The next thing Zoro feels is the sharp fangs on his neck. He is too slow to react. This is not a fledgling, it is a fully grown vampire with full confidence in his power. He laughs as he rips at Zoro's throat, tasting the blood. Then there is darkness.

When Zoro wakes up what feels like hours later. He is surprised to be alive. The first light of Dawn dances over the church.

The vampire from earlier is nowhere to be seen, instead, there is a youth with dark curls and matching dark eyes. "Sorry about that, had to give you my blood, so you wouldn't die." It's the same man, just his hair and eyes are different, human. It must be a glamour.

Zoro grabs for his sword.

"Killing me would be against the rules, shishishi" He laughs. "Plus if I kill you now you'll be a vampire, one of my spawn" he crosses his legs. "Is that want you want? To be one of us, hunter?"

Zoro sheathes his swords. The vampire speaks true, "whatever" he turns on his heel and walks away. This is failing his mission but it's obvious the odd vampire only kills in retaliation. He will have to have a word with the bastard that gave him this mission

Zoro goes back to the headquarters where he gets assignments and raises issues. This does not go over well, he is punished and left to die on the stocks for disobedience and accepting a vampire's blood.

He accepts his fate. That is until the vampire that he saw that night shows up before him, at the center of the hunter's fortress without a care in the world.

He introduces himself as Luffy, and his true form that he saw that night is Nika. They are the same, though he can't quite control himself at night.

Luffy gives him an ultimatum, die on the stocks or become a vampire and topple the whole system that hunts innocents who only drink of animals, down to its very foundation.

Zoro who has been more than disillusioned with the organization he chose to serve, agrees but not to be a vampire. He will help as long as he stays human.

Luffy grins, he's fine with that as Zoro's blood is delicious. He would like to drink it forever. However, he is tempted to just snap Zoro's neck while he has Luffy's blood running through his veins. Luffy hates saying goodbye to humans, and they age and break so fast. It's even more true as they start to fall in love, and Luffy has had enough heartbreaks in his life that he dreads the short time he will spend with his favorite human.

Zoro will agree to be turned in time, as he will not have a chance. Luffy respects his wishes, but not everyone in the vampire courts does. An ancient Vampire like Luffy falling for a human is preposterous.

They give him an ultimatum, be turned by one on the vampire court, or watch as they put Luffy into a thousand-year slumber, long enough for Zoro to die and an age to pass.

It's not much of a choice, he accepts being turned for the one he loves.

Luffy only pouts that he didn't get to taste Zoro's tasty blood one last time.

[solunstell]

Notes I've taken from Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen

On the cover, it looks liked dazai and chuuya are both balancing on strands of Rimbaud's hair??

In the third full color illustration, chuuya's eyes look brown

Chuuya's hair is described as reddish brown

Dazai saying that he was gonna join a quit the PM and join rival organization. The next paragraph points out that he isn't even a member of the PM lmao

Also, "do you have any idea how much you've put me through this past year?" Like what? I sooooo wanna know abt dazai age 14

Mori and dazai are "bound by a common destiny"

"Dazai showed flashes of brilliance one moment, but the next moment, they were gone. As soon as he seemed to have it all figured out, he'd confuse everyone by talking about his bizarre, meaningless fascination with suicide." Excellent characterization note

Mori can disarm a bomb

"'Why do you want to die?' / Dazai seemed puzzled as he looked back at Mori, like he genuinely didn't understand the question. Then, eyes full of youthful innocence, he responded: / 'Let me ask you something instead: Do you truly believe there's value in living?'

Dazai involving Hirotsu (who he just met) in his self convo by telling him not to use a painful method next time hirotsu plans on killing himself. Hirotsu saying he'll... keep that in mind.

Goodness I need more hirotsu and dazai moments

The fact that Chuuya's kick sends Dazai so far, despite the fact that Chuuya's gravity would disable upon impact, kinda proves my theory that Dazai's ability would not stop the momentum caused by Chuuya's ability in motion. This is later confirmed in another sentence

Chuuya calling dazai kid even though he's the same age

Chuuya and dazais first moment meeting having chuuya laughing :)

Dazai watches his hand being crushed quite easily, despite not liking pain. That's interesting. However, when kicked next, he does react

Hirotsu going 'back in my day I was just like you' lmao

Chuuya calls dazai: a twig, mummy boy, kid, bandages, slimeball

Dazai calls Chuuya: pip-squeak, a fairy, a schoolboy

Chuuya is described as having never lost a fight in his life while talking to Mori. That's interesting cuz he was just captured by the enemy

There's the love confession!

"'If only I'd been in the middle of that [explosion], I would've had a quick and painless death...' / 'Yeah, yeah. I'll beat you to a pulp as many times as you want later, so focus on the mission right now, okay?'"

Dazai acting like a blubbering scared child when caught by the enemy

Chuuya telling dazai to put on hard rock for a fight

Also seems like chuuya's ability no longer affects an object as soon as contact is cut.

"Even Dazai had forgotten to breathe as he watched the storm that was Chuuya decimate the battlefield."

When dazais talking to the dying man: "Dazai's expression was calm, but there was a faint twinkle deep within his eyes. The kind of twinkle a boy who wants to grow up to be a firefighter gets in his eyes when he sees his hero in the flesh."

Actually, the entire paragraph set of Dazai's break is really fascinating

Dazai brings wood for Randou's fire. Also, either he or Chuuya or both cover a draft hole for him.

Mori forbade them from violence to solve their problems, so of course the first fair thing to come to their heads is arcade games

They played close to a hundred matches. Fun date!

Dazai trying to give chuuya head pats

Chuuya is an excellent actor

At the party prep, dazai is playing playing modern pop music

According to chuuya, arahabaki doesn't have a mind or a personality

"The shield protested" dazai is the best shield lol

The boss saying he wishes he could chat abt old times with dazai. What old times? Dazai shouldn't have known him before his death? Unless he did

The mere thought of killing a child breaks rimbauds heart, with the child being dazai, but he's okay with killing chuuya? Rimbaud only sees chuuya as an ability to gain, it seems to me.

Skk calling each other by their first names for the first time (outside of around other people) when working together in a fight against rimbaud

"'Hmph...anything goes when you're a skill user from Europe, huh?'"

Dazai asking abt rimbauds final wishes

Q is put into dazais hands to figure out their ability. Q asks to play, and dazai says when q is older. I am now waiting for this playdate in canon

Also, dazai and mori both not knowing q's gender

Dazai is a cheater at games

The chuuya newsletters

Omg hiiiii verlaine

[the-nameless-poet]

Solace

Fred Weasley

Summery : Hazel Lily Potter comforting Fred Weasley after his elder brother's death

Warning : Sobbing angst 💖

Don't want no other shade of blue but you.

No other sadness in this world would do

- Taylor Swift

Hazel

I brushed my hair out of my face as I stared at myself in the mirror. The reflection showed a person I barely knew. She stared right back at me, making me sink low in my own skin. It showed me a woman who had lost her childhood to something beyond fairness. The innocence that had once laid within her hazel eyes was replaced by a cold, wretched stare as if she could read my darkest secrets. The furrow of her eyebrows made her look a little more intimidating. But I knew, inside all of that, was a scared little girl, who got dragged into the wars she denied. Scars scattered all over her silhouette, telling a story that I had lived.

A story that was tragic. It was haunted. Haunted by the screams of innocents and the screams of the stolen virtue. Haunted by the tragic tale of liberty and the horror of bloodthirsty, prejudiced brutes. It was haunted by the purloined childhood of innocent youth, forced to mature, Screams of every heart and body for mercy, Tears of every patriarch to spare his kin of cruelty, fight of every mother to save her child, the sorrow of every lover who had to watch each other being pummeled to death. Haunted by the unforgivable curse that led the fights, screams of torture, sorrow, tragedy, and vulnerability. I could hear them all as clear as the day I had fought for the world. The casting of spells that emerged a light that left me blinded and the screams of terror that made my bones shiver. The cries of the loss of a loved one. It was all audible just as clear; as I traced a scar that carved itself permanently on my collarbone.

I gasped out loud and turned my head at the knock that pulled me out of my daze.

"Come in." I turned back towards the mirror as I stared at the scar that was laying on my forehead right above my right eyebrow. I saw my brother's reflection as he stared back at me through the mirror.

"It's time to go, Haze." The softness in his voice was agonizing.

"Yeah." I whispered back. I took one final look at myself in the mirror and walked out of my room. Harry following right after me.

We walked out of our prents' house at Godric's Hollow, and walked in an empty alley and apparated to a graveyard.

We stepped forward as we saw the Weasley family standing together. Each one trying to hold back their tears to comfort the other. We both took a seat as the memorial service started. Bill Weasley, the eldest son had given a beautiful eulogy for his younger brother.

As the sun peaked slightly above the horizon for the last time that day, It was time to bid our last goodbyes to one of the member of Weasley family. A family who had treated me and my brother as their own. Harry and I never had a family. Neither knew what it was nor knew what it meant till we met the Weasleys. The love they hold is pure, rich and authentic in a way that could make an orphan feel what family could be like. What family should be like. I will forever be grateful for having the opportunity to get to know this family. And to get to experience their love. The nurturing feeling that I was robbed off of was gifted to me by Molly, a mother who had limitless love for her children and the ones she took under her protective wings of motherly love.

And standing here, watching as she gets stripped down a child was making my heart churn in agony. Tears streaming down her once moon like glowing face as she buries one of her children six feet deep. I could never comprehend the hurt and agony that she must've been feeling.

Harry and I stepped forward to give our last goodbyes and to give our condolences to the Weasleys. Harry and I had brought some daisies.

We both put them down on the gravestone of Percy Ignatius Weasley. I had a little handwritten note that I laid down on his grave. We moved forward to give our condolences to our only existing family.

Aurther was the first one I hugged. I hugged him tightly. He had given me the fatherly love that I had craved for years. He hugged me back with same force, his eyes flowing tears freely as he sobbed. And I hugged him tighter, if it was possible.

"How are you doing, my love?" He pulled back slightly and pushed back some of my hair from my face and asked with tremble in his voice. I wiped the tears off his cheeks,

"I've been alright. Don't worry about me much, Arthur. How have you been?" I asked and my eyes started watering,

"Feels like I've been through hell." He said and hugged me back, I felt Molly's hand rubbing my back, that's when I realized that I was trembling with unshed tears and dumbed downed sobs.

I turned around and hugged Molly. I needed her right now. I needed her the most. But the others needed her more than I did. I felt my dress getting soaked as she broke down in my arms.

"Shh, hey, Molls don't cry. I can not understand what you're going through right now, but I promise you I'm right here, I'm with you and I'm not going anywhere. You're a proud mum of a hero." I gently said to her as she wrecked with sobs. Tears were flowing down my cheek freely now.

I pulled back a little and wiped her eyes. "Come on, Molls. You're the bravest of us all." She cupped my face in her hands and gave me a broken smile.

"Now, first of all, tell me. Tell me when are you coming back to live with us? I need you in the house, Haze. We all do. Please come back, both of you. You'll come back, yeah? Oh, And don't forget to put ointments on your injuries, darling." She said, pleading. Keeping her tears at bay.

"After two weeks. Harry and I are coming after two weeks. I promise I'll try to remember." I held her hand that was on my cheek.

"Okay." She said with a smile and lovingly patted my cheeks.

Ginny was standing beside Molly. She looked like she had been crying for weeks. I enveloped her in a hug. She was like a little sister to me. My bestfriend, my twin flame, my partner in crime, my everything.

"Awh, my baby." I hugged her tightly and let her grieve on my shoulder. She looked weak and tired. She was in no condition to talk.

"It's all gonna be okay. I promise." I whispered to her and I ran my fingers through her hair gently. She simply tightened her hold around my waist let out silent tears. She let go of me after a while and went back to being held by Harry. I watched as he gently kissed her forehead repeatedly in hopes to comfort her.

Georgie was standing right beside her and without any hesitation he pulled me in for a hug. He wasn't crying, no. He was trying to hold himself together to provide somewhat comfort to his family.

"How're you doing, little dwarf?" He asked with a brotherly smile.

"I'm fine. How've you been holdin' up Georgie?" I asked looking up at him. He wiped my tears away and kissed my forehead.

"Eh..." He shrugged his shoulders. He pulled me back into his embrace for one more time and then let go of me.

And instantly I was pulled into another embrace. A feeling of warmth spread all over my body as the pair of familiar arms wrapped themselves around me and pulled me in close. My head pressed up against his chest as I listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart. In this moment I felt complete. Soaking in all his love and affection as he embraced me in his solace. I never wanted to let go. His arms felt too comfortable to. I hugged him back just as fiercely. I felt all of my worries drifting away as I let myself bathe in the mellowness of his solace. Not letting myself lose in him, I pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

His sapphire eyes reflected the soul of a broken boy, which once held the happiness of the whole world. The gleam in them fading away as he smiled down at me. I wanted to catch it in a jar and protect it with my life. His smile was broken, yet it could light up the whole world. Guilt struck on his face as if it had latched itself on his existence.

It was Freddie. My Freddie.

"Hey, little darlin'. Got your head all banged up, have you?" He said with a light chuckle. I offered him a small glimpse of smile.

"C'mere." He pulled me back in his warmth and kissed the scar on my forehead.

He pulled away and I looked around to find Ron and Harry getting far away from the crowd. Ron had comforted us both thousands of times. It was Harry's turn to give him his shoulder to cry on. Bill and Charlie were standing far away. Saddened by the fact that the boy they saw growing up was lying lifeless, underneath the very soil they were standing on. They gave me a little wave of acknowledgement. Which I returned with a saddened smile.

"You wanna get away from here for a bit, Haze?" Freddie asked and I nodded my head without hesitation. I knew he needed to get away from here. I knew the moment I saw his face, he wanted to cry, sob till his voice gave up on him.

I took his outstretched hand in mine and looked up at his prominent face,

"That would be nice." I whispered, feeling if I spoke loudly the beauty and the tragidy of this moment would die.

He held my hand tightly in his, intertwining our fingers, as he led me far from the aura of grief and sadness.

He stopped near the furthest tree. It was a large oak tree. All alone, standing tall in all its glory. Providing shade to the grievance of people. He sat down, hidden away from all the prying eyes.

He pulled me down to sit beside him. My legs tangled on top of his. The moment was soft, almost fragile. If put under too much pressure might break into millions of scattered pieces. Our hands still intertwined as he drew circles on the back of my hand. I looked around, the light breeze of evening making the leaves rustle. The slight chatter of grievance could be heard in distance.

Graveyards were strange. They held this tragic peacefulness in them that was beyond comprehension. As I looked around, the gravestones shone with last rays of sun light. I wondered how each and every grave held a person that once made memories in this world. Some sad and some filled with happiness. The sudden realisation of existence and it's end came, sending shivers down my spine.

I heard a light sniffle. And looked at the boy sitting beside me. His face scrunches up in agony as it lit up with the redness left behind by the setting sun. His tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. The water droplets, so delicate, that they can remind one of the morning dew drop laying on the flower petals.

Even in agony, his face looked like it was carved up by the gods in daze of serinity. His eyes, Pools of sapphire that held too many emotions at the same time. His lips, pained by the caged sobs. His eyes glistened with tears that haunted the boy's dreams. His head leaned against the dark oak tree, contrasting his red strands of softness.

Even in his moment of vulnerability, to me this boy was nothing but beautiful. I took my hand back and straddled him, and took the trembling boy in my arms. He tightly held onto my waist, and hid his face in my chest as his body quivered with his vanquished sobs. His lips let out beaten apologies to his deceased brother. His voice horace and broken. His eyes shone with guilt and regret. And all I wanted to do in that moment was steal away all his sorrows, his thoughts of not being deserving of life.

But I didn't have it all in my hands. It wasn't upto me. So I just stayed there on my knees. Holding him close to my heart in hopes that he'll know how much he is loved by me. I caressed his hair as he broke down completely in my arms, not holding a sheer amount of his grief back.

"It was me, who was supposed to die. Why the fuck did he have to jump in?" He sobbed out. "Haze, it was me. I killed him. He's dead because of me." He cried out.

"Freddie, don't say that. Do not. Don't disrespect your brother's love and sacrifice like that. He loved you, honey. Don't be like that and let his love go to waste. He was brave. And that bravery came from you." I cupped his face in my hand and made him look up in my eyes. His eyes red from all the tears.

"I am the worst brother." He spoke in a broken whisper. I shook my head in disagreement.

"No. You've been the best brother to your siblings their whole life. Do you know how much Ron, Ginny, George, Billy, Charlie and Percy love you? How much I love you. I guess it was Percy's turn to be the best older brother for you, sweetheart. He just wanted to return the love you had given him, his whole life." I said as he looked up at me. His eyes shone with tears like a broken child's.

"But I was always mean to him." He whispered.

"Doesn't mean you didn't love him. Sometimes, we are mean to people we love. Yeah? Be proud of your brother's courage, Freddie. Be proud. He'd like that."

He nodded his head in defeat and leaned his head back on the tree. He sighed lightly, his hands still snaked around my waist, keeping me in place. He looked back at me. His gaze flickered from the scar on my forehead to the one on collarbone.

He gently grazed the scar with the pad of his thumb and let out another sigh. "you've got a scar here." He stated. "These aren't the only scars I've got." I whispered and stared straight in his eyes. "Tell me about it." He let out a sarcastic scoff. He pulled me closer to him making me sit on his lap. He gently pressed a kiss to my scar on the collarbone, making sure not to hurt me. And hid his face in my chest again. Holding me tight against his body.

He inhaled a large breath and exhaled with exhaustion as his head rested against my heart. I gently played with his hair and soaked the gentle moment of affection in. I kissed the top of his head and he nuzzled in more.

Call me selfish and twisted but the way he broke down in my arms made me feel complete.

We heard footsteps coming towards our direction. Fred quickly wiped his tears off, and took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself down. I got off of his lap and sat down beside him.

It was Ron, Harry and Hermione.

"We were looking for you both." Hermione spoke.

"Uh...yeah. I just wanted to um-clear my mind, so I dragged Fred here with me. Sorry." Fred gave me a grateful look.

"Yeah, no need to apologise. I just wanted to meet you. Sorry, I ran away with Harry for a while. Just wanted to clear my head." Ron spoke apologetically as he sat down beside me.

"Don't fuss about it." I hugged him tightly and we held onto each other for a while and then let go.

I felt Fred stand up, and I looked at him questioning.

"I think I should go. Mum must be looking for me. It was nice catching up, Haze. Bye. I'll meet you at the burrow." He said and left without any other word.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and I talked for a while and then we parted ways. We bid goodbye to the Weasley's and apparated away.

Harry and I landed in the same alley as before and walked towards the house.

"I saw you. You and Fred I mean. At the graveyard. Is there something going on?" Harry asked without looking at me.

"He needed a shoulder to cry on and I simply helped him with his grief." I said looking straight ahead as we entered the house. Harry locked the door behind.

"It looked bit too cozy for a shoulder to cry on." He mumbled.

"Harry don't speak about things that you don't have a single idea of. And since when did you start to care?" I spoke loudly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I guess it's time to address the elephant in the room. Harry, I am talking about the fact that you thought sacrificing yourself would win you a war." I spoke with no trace of emotion on my face. I wore a facade of a brave woman but inside I was trembling with fear. Fear of losing the war, losing my brother, losing everyone that I loved.

"Hazel, that happened a whole week ago. Let it go. What matters is that I didn't die. And I'm right here." He said trying to embrace me but I pushed him back, my facade breaking.

"What matters is that you didn't die!? Are serious right now, Harry? The fuck is wrong with you!? What matters is that, Harry, you didn't think once what would've happened to me even if we had won. I would've won a war without you Harry! Even though we won the war, we've been to thousands of funeral in last few days! And the thought of one of them being yours kills me! I've lost too much! I can't handle it anymore!" I yelled at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?! I've lost as many people as you have, Hazel! I've lost them too! You're not the only one!" He yelled back. His eyes full of rage and tears alike mine.

"YEAH, AND IF YOU'D HAVE DIED I WOULD'VE LOST ONE MORE! SO FUCK OFF!" I screamed at him and ran upstairs to my room and locked myself in. I slid down the wall of my room and brought my knees to my chest as I cried.

I heard Harry knocking, more like banging the door.

"Haze! Haze! Come on. Open the door. Please! I am sorry. I swear. But in that moment all I could think about was saving you. He wouldn't have killed you if he already had me. I couldn't have been able to live with the regret of not saving you while I had the chance. Haze, please open the door, for me. Please." His voice cracked at the end. I unlocked the door with my wand and he stepped in.

He looked at my broken state and ran to me and took me in his protective embrace. He wiped the tears off my cheeks and kissed my forehead and held me close as we cried. Cried for all the years of torture that the Dursely's brought in. Cried for our parents. Cried for the years of our childhood wasted after a cruel man. Cried for the way everyone put their blind faith on us and sacrificed themselves. Cried for the fear of losing the war after winning all the battles. Cried for Sirius, Remus and Dora. Cried for the Weasleys. Cried for every family that lost their loved ones because of a narrow mentality of a sociopath.

Cried till our lungs gave out and the exhaustion took over as we both fell asleep in each other's embrace.

A/N : Tell me in the comments if you want a fluffy part 2 🪐🤍

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 16 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: So much happens in this chapter and so much tea is spilled here....and so I must warn you of a few things. There are some trigger warnings for this chapter and mentions of sexual abuse and past attempts of assault. Don't come for my head??? Anyways, other than the warning, I'm excited to hear your thoughts and please let me know what you think!

Getting her brother to acclimatize was easy.  All it took from her was the promise of the Sharpe competitive spirit and the fact that surely, she was going to decimate him in croquet.  A smile had broken out on his features as the two siblings, oldest and youngest, violently fought over the croquet mallets and who would be what color. 

That seemed to jar some of the other men into relaxing a little bit—and given Abe’s resilience and youthful spirit, he represented a bright and shining moment that they could relate to and get back to.  Ruth would consider it a win.  The only person who stayed out of their particularly vicious croquet game was Robby, though she had an inkling as to why. 

The two of them were cut from the same cloth.  And if it had been Ruth who had gone up in the air and survived and done those things, she would have wanted to throw herself into work as well.  But there wasn’t work to be done here, not in the same way that Robby would have a purpose with.  

“You’re making that face again,” Abe advised quietly—this time was the second go around for croquet and he was bound and determined to make certain that his sister lost. 

But Ruth wasn’t really paying attention to the game.  She was paying attention to the walkway, where Robert Rosenthal was currently walking.  If she could just get him to let loose and relax a little bit—to let go of the handles and let someone else drive for a change—then maybe these men stood a chance at escaping the burnout.  

“Hmm?” Ruth questioned, gaze falling back on her brother.  “You didn’t steal my turn, did you?” 

“No, we’re just waiting on you,” Abe said, gesturing emphatically at the hoops on the ground. 

Ruth lined her mallet up and gave a grin as the mallet collided with the ball.  It went straight through another hoop and she smirked at the men.  “I believe that’s another point for me.” 

“Ugh, we’re never going to stop her.  She’s more formidable than the Germans,” Pappy exclaimed. 

“As lovely as that is,” Ruth replied.  “I’m a bit parched.  I’m just going to grab a drink and then I’ll be with you gentlemen.” Before they could so much as protest, considering the fact that they were in the middle of a game, Ruth was off and out of sight.  She was a woman on a mission and if that mission entailed getting Robby Rosenthal’s head screwed on straight, then she’d be damn sure that she’d do it correctly. 

Ruth’s heeled feet clicked against the pavement and then the sounds stopped as she hurried onto the grass.  It didn’t take her long to catch up with Robby, catching him by the arm and giving an innocent smile. 

“Take a turn around the grounds with me?” 

“What is this, a regency novel?” Robby said, swatting her arm away in annoyance.  

“Maybe I just want to talk to you.” 

“Okay, Miss-Always-Has-An-Ulterior-Motive,” Rosie nearly snorted at the thought that she just wanted to talk.  The last time that Ruth had just wanted to talk, the two of them had nearly ended up verbally murdering each other in the hallway after a deposition.  

A slight frown curled on her lips and she glowered at him for a moment.  “Fine.  The therapist here says that you’re being uncooperative.” 

“And he thought that talking to you was going to make that better?” 

“Oh please,” Ruth scoffed.  “That’s not his intention in telling me.  They just think that a swift smack to the head might do the job better.” 

“Well you always were a woman of godly violence.” 

“Obviously,” Ruth said with a slight sniff as they walked.  “You’re deflecting though, even in this conversation.  Which is not like you, Mr. Always-Has-To-Be-Confrontational.” 

“I do not—” 

“I believe you just proved my point,” Ruth retorted smugly.  

Rosie let out a huff of air as they started down a hill towards a maze.  “Listen, I just don’t think it’s in my best interest or in the army’s best interest to have me here right now.  That’s all.” 

“Okay, so what is?  Letting you fly every single day until your brain just goes numb from what you’re seeing?” Ruth pointed out.  

Before he could retort to that, the two of them stopped short at the sound of a sob.  Ruth didn’t fail to notice the way that Robby’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched up.  He looked like he wanted to go to the boy sitting back there and crying.  But his heart was just as clenched up as his fists were.  His feet remained rooted to the ground and Ruth just gently guided Robby back out of the maze. 

“Listen,” Ruth said in a quiet tone.  “The Brass is worried about you.  And that means they’re worried about your men too.  Don’t make me knock you upside the head because you’re being stubborn.  Got it?” 

Rosie just let out a deep sigh, gaze falling on Ruth finally.  “Yeah alright. I got it.” 

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

Ruth sat in the library, paper in hand and a pen.  She wasn’t quite sure what to say about what had happened in the last few weeks.  The fact that her brother was now here and at Thorpe Abbotts.  The fact that she had lied and was helping him stay in the military.  The fact that nearly everyone in the Hundredth had been downed or killed in action.  

How do you go about even beginning something like that?  But she had done her best.  About halfway through her letter to Dick Winters, Ruth just felt weary.  How was it that the only person she was really telling everything to was hours away from her and she had never felt further from humanity than she did at this very moment?  

The music from the next room was almost overpowering as she set down her pen, staring at the letter in front of her. How to express loneliness in a simple sentence?  She didn’t regret leaving him, she didn’t—but she missed him all the same.  She missed feeling like she was an actual person and not just an appendage by which the war was being fought.  

I feel out place here.  It’s not that my job isn’t important, because it is.  You know my job has always come first.  I just get thinking that everyone is going to go up in the sky and they won’t come back down.  And I’ll just be left here in the in-between, wondering what’s left for me when it’s all over. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you burning the midnight oil,” Robby’s voice flooded Ruth’s ears and she glanced up from her spot in her armchair, finding him standing in the doorway in his pajamas. 

“And you’re clearly sleeping as well as finals week,” Ruth retorted. 

“You and that therapist—” Robby just shook his head.  “He told me I’d find you in here.” 

“He thinks you should talk to me?” 

“I think it was his way of encouraging socialization, given how tense dinner was earlier,” Robby amended.  “Abe doing okay?” 

Ruth set down the letter, gaze flickering at Robby.  He had cautiously taken a few steps inside of the library, sitting down in an armchair not too far from her.  “He’s a good kid, he’ll be okay,” Ruth insisted.  “He’s tough as nails, that one.” 

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Robby cracked a small smile at her.  “Who are you writing?  Let me guess, Timothy—” 

“I would never write to him,” Ruth’s tone hissed out so quickly and in such a venom, Robert felt like he had missed something significant. 

“I thought that you two—” 

“Yeah well—” Ruth huffed out.  “I would never write to someone as awful as he was.” 

It was silent for a long second and when Ruth glanced up, she thought she saw something softening ever so slightly in Robby’s eyes.  And she didn’t like it one bit.  “I guess I always just assumed that—” 

“That I was the colossal bitch for breaking up with my fianceé a few months before the wedding?” Ruth deadpanned.  “Everyone thinks that they know what happened but they have no idea what kind of man he was.” 

Robby seemed to be struggling with his words.  “And—and what kind of man was he?” 

Ruth fell silent for a long minute.  “You remember the deposition we had to do together?  You said I was off my game and I looked tired?” 

“Well yeah.  Why?” 

“The night before, he had gotten back a few scores.  We had gone out for some drinks,” Ruth’s hands began to fiddle together in her lap.  A nervous tic given the topic at hand.  “And he was nice, as he always was.  But then I got him home.  And I’m not much of a drinker.  Maybe I should have been that night.  He wanted me to sleep with him—didn’t see much sense in waiting since we were getting married anyway.” 

“He didn’t—” Robby started. 

“Well I told him no,” Ruth cut him off.  “And then he told me that it’d be better if we just started now.  Because no wife of his was going to be a lawyer anyway.  His wife was going to stay home and have his babies.  I thought that was bullshit and told him so.  I guess he was so angry that he—uh—he wasn’t himself.  And he grabbed the nearest pan in the kitchen and he just….started hitting me with it.” 

There was a long beat of silence.  “Holy shit, Ruth.” 

“He must’ve hit me fifteen or sixteen times before stopping and trying to get on top of me.  But you know me, I’m so petty and competitive.  So I grabbed the pan and slammed it into his face.  It must’ve been one hell of a hit because he sobered up and began crying and apologizing.  But I was out of there, left the ring and everything. I told him that if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t hesitate to prosecute the shit out of him,” Ruth admitted.  “I went to a clinic in Queens so that mama wouldn’t find out.  He broke two of my ribs and left some permanent damage to some other things,” Ruth admitted. 

“But—but—you were there the next day.  At the deposition,” Rosie’s heart sank in his chest as he stared at her. 

“Well I don’t like to lose,” Ruth replied dryly.  “I never told anyone that story until now.  I guess it’s because I really do think you’re a good person, even if you annoy the hell out of me.” 

“Ruth,” Rosie started in a soft tone. 

“Oh don’t get all sentimental and weird on me.  I prefer being at odds with you,” Ruth said. She glanced at the letter on the arm of the seat and gestured at it.  “And as for who I’m writing, it’s my last boyfriend.  From Aldbourne.  Good man, good friend.  I guess I ran away when he wanted to get serious because of the Timothy shit.  Because I’m not going to stifle myself for anyone.  Not even myself.” 

It was a lot to take in.  And for a moment, just a shining moment, Robert Rosenthal thought that he saw behind the curtain to where the real Ruth Sharpe had been hiding.  She had been nicer before that engagement.  And afterwards, she had turned ice cold and bitter—and now that he knew why, it made him sick.  

“You know,” Robby started slowly.  “You coulda come to me.  I would’ve helped.” 

Ruth just let out a sigh.  “If I want help, I’ll ask for it.” 

“Would you?” He challenged. 

“Are you?” Ruth retorted.  “The way that I see it, you and I don’t get along because we’re too much alike.  And I hate to even admit that much, but it’s the truth.  You want to get the hell out of here because you need to be busy. You need to have things to do so that you don’t feel useless or so that you don’t break down.  It’s simple, really.” 

“Then what’s the solution?  Oh wise Ruth Sharpe,” Robby snapped in a sarcastic tone. 

Now there was that bite that she had been looking and waiting for.  Ruth let her lips curl up into a smirk.  “Well for one, your men need you.  So get your head on straight.  And two?  You’re a damn good pilot.  You compartmentalize as much as you can so that you can be at your best all of the time.” 

“Simple as that, huh?” 

“Simple as that,” Ruth retorted. 

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

Abe was awfully suspicious that last day at the Flak-House.  He seemed to be more and more nervous the more downtime that the men had.  Because the more downtime there was, the more questions that they had for him.  And he had no clue on some of the things they were asking him. 

So that last day, he pulled Rosie and Ruth over to a table and began to lay out his plans. “Listen, I’ve told them that I was accepted into college.” 

“What college?” Ruth and Rosie immediately questioned at the same time.  

“NYU,” Abe admitted, running a hand through his hair.  “It should be fine, right?” 

“I mean, probably,” Rosie said with a shrug.  “As long as you remember that, yeah.” 

“You know,” Came a voice from the other table.  “You three are always looking like you’re conspiring about something.” 

And before Ruth or Robby could so gracefully handle the conversation, Abe had spun around and blurted out the source of all of their problems henceforth.  “That’s because we are!” Abe exclaimed. 

“You are?” Pappy questioned, gaze narrowing. 

“Yeah, I found these two kissing!  They’re in love and trying to get me to cover for them!” Abe blurted. 

Ruth couldn’t help the fact that her jaw simply dropped as she and Robert Rosenthal stared at one another.  This was hell, they were officially in hell. And there was no going back from that particular statement, however false it was. 

“I—what?” Pappy asked, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, we’re in love,” Rosie just looked like he was going to be sick. 

“Uh huh,” Ruth agreed blankly, unable to form a single thought process in her head. 

Abe leaned forward, a grin on his face.  “Oh you two are the best, thanks for covering for me.  I owe you one!” 

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Lily of the Valley

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason Todd dies and comes back to life. As the League takes him in, he navigates his morality and family values over the years.

Chapters: 16/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul, Ra’s al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Immortal Jason Todd, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Protective Talia al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Adopted Children, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Sixteen: Tobacco Jasmine

One night in the infirmary, Saru had a nightmare, and Jason limped over to her bed to wake her. He clutched his side with one arm and held a book in the other. "Saru? Can I—? Saru," Jason nudged her. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, smiling once she made his face out in the dark.

"Did I wake you?" Saru asked. Jason shook his head. He'd been awake for hours. He raised his book and Saru nodded, allowing Jason to sit beside her on the bed.

"My neighbors, you remember the dawn of youth with pleasure and regret its passing," Jason read. Saru inched closer to him and looked into his eyes. He stammered, swallowing hard before taking a breath, and continued the story. Saru didn't mind. She found his reading voice to be warm and sweet. Jason would stop in between pages to glance at her to see if he'd lost her interest. The novel was short, but Jason read it in a way that made it feel real. "Real beauty lies in the spiritual accord that is called love which can exist between a man and a woman."

Saru wanted to kiss him, but she knew he was far too shy for such an outward display of affection. His innocence would not allow it, so she lay her head on his shoulder and smiled. Jason stopped and offered a soft hum of approval. The sun rose on the horizon, illuminating the infirmary as the tale came to its tragic end. Jason looked at Saru and her closed eyes before moving toward the edge of the bed. "Don't go," Saru whispered. Jason sat in place. "I was listening."

"Did you like it?" Jason questioned. Saru nodded.

"Jason, can I tell you something? You have to promise not to be self-conscious," Saru gently spoke as she reached for his hand.

"I'll try not to," Jason answered.

"Have you ever noticed the light your eyes give off in the dark? It's not human," Saru pointed out. Jason blinked hard and looked at her. "I don't think it's strange... It's actually stunning. You're like a moonflower. You look so beautiful at night." Jason let her hold his hand, and she nestled close to him, so close he could smell the spiced floral scent in her hair.

"Thank you. Saru, you have a beauty that most people only see once in their entire lives. Every time I look at you, I feel you've given me a gift," Jason smiled.

Saru squeezed his hand. "I think I can rest now," Saru whispered, "Unless you'd like to talk." Jason shook his head and made a soft noise.

"No... You should rest. I should go speak with my mother. I haven't seen her since the match," Jason replied as he stood up. She let go of his hand and turned her face away. Jason walked down the hall, careful not to make noise and alarm the nurses.

He crept into Talia's room and nudged her. Talia sat up and smoothed his hair back. "What are you doing out of the infirmary?" Talia asked. Jason smiled. Talia hadn't seen him that happy in years. "What is it?"

"Could I ask your permission for something?" Jason questioned.

Talia knit her brows together. He'd never asked her permission for anything before. "Go ahead," Talia replied with caution.

"Well, I'm nearly sixteen now... And I-. I'd like you to know I've never requested anything else... And I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't sure it was what I wanted—."

"Little one," Talia interrupted, "Don't agonize. It's not becoming." She chuckled as she held his face in her palms.

"Could I go on a date?" Jason asked. Talia's eyes widened.

"With who? Where?" Talia questioned. Jason's cheeks went rosy.

"I'd like to share a meal with Saru... Something special. At the end of the month," Jason answered, "Mama?"

Talia nodded. "Jason, can I ask you something?" Talia whispered as she climbed out of bed. Jason sat next to her. "Is it serious?"

Jason cocked his head. "Are you asking if I've kissed her?" Jason questioned. Talia smiled and kissed Jason's forehead.

"Have you told her that you like her?" Talia questioned. Jason nodded.

"Last night, I sat with her and read her a book," Jason described, "Then the sun came up while we held hands, and Mama... Mama, I haven't felt at peace in so long, but I felt like a teenager. I don't think I've ever felt like a teenager, and now I'm nearly sixteen... My teenage years will be over soon."

"You're right. Jason, I give you my permission to go on a date with Saru... But promise me one thing," Talia whispered.

"Anything, Mama," Jason whispered. Talia embraced him, and he clenched his fists to keep from wincing.

"No matter how old you get, you will always be my little one," Talia replied. Jason hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I promise, Mama," Jason whispered.

"Now go back to the infirmary. It's almost time for breakfast," Talia commanded. Jason chuckled and winced as he stood up and returned to the infirmary. Saru was completely unconscious by that time, and Damian sat next to Jason's empty bed.

"Gē? Where have you been?" Damian questioned.

"I missed Mama... Damian, what are you doing here?" Jason asked. Damian climbed into Jason's bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I thought you were lonely," Damian replied. A nurse entered and woke Saru before serving breakfast to Jason and Saru. Saru opened her eyes and glanced over at Damian.

"Good morning, bābu," Saru whispered. Damian grinned at her.

"Good morning, Saru... Are you and Jason friends now?" Damian asked. Saru nodded.

"He's a nice boy... Damian, can you believe your brother read to me last night?" Saru whispered excitedly. Damian laughed.

"No, not Gē," Damian shook his head.

"He did. He's an excellent storyteller," Saru replied. Damian glanced at Jason.

"Jason likes romance novels," Damian announced.

"Di!" Jason chastised him. His face reddened, and he couldn't bear to look up out of embarrassment.

Saru smiled. "It's a rare trait for someone as strong as Jason to be a romantic... His natural inclination towards empathy is a desirable trait. Not everyone is like that," Saru replied. Jason couldn't look up even if he wanted to. Jason wasn't used to commendation, especially in a romantic sense.

Damian leaned toward Jason to whisper in his ear. "Grandfather mentioned you at dinnertime last night," Damian confessed, "He said good things."

Jason kissed the top of Damian's head. "Should I speak with him?" Jason questioned. Damian nodded.

"He has to go away soon," Damian replied. Jason's appetite left him.

[professionallyyappinabtangst]

Shaw Pack Flowers pt2

flowers I'd give to every member of the Shaw Pack and why part 2

Christian - Red Lilacs with a mix of matching peonies! the color red means in this case anger and passion. Christian has a lot of pent-up anger as he feels he was cheated out of becoming beta. he tends to get annoyed whenever everyone calls out his obvious relationship with Amanda. however, he is passionate about his pack. even if he can be a bit of an ass- now to the flowers! Peonies mean Compassion and Bashfulness. why? he cares about the people around him a lot! and he can get very flustered when confronted about his relationship and or gifts. Lilacs mean confidence and innocence though we're only gonna take confidence in this case. After all everyone could use a little more of that

Marie - (she can have my hand in marriage honestly) I am giving her some Roses of course!(I love her some much- I'm biased) Pink roses and some blue Chamomiles. Pink roses mean Gratitude, grace, and joy though were only taking 1 of those meanings. Grace because let's be real here she had to be really patient and fast with Colm's behavior. while The color blue means calm, trust, and intelligence though we only takin 2 of those Calm and intelligent. She had to be smart in dealing with Colm's gambling habit while also being calm enough to raise their son. Chamomiles mean patience and wealth. do I really need to explain that?

Arden - the resident troublemaker! I'm giving her some Orange Hyacinths! The color orange in this case means Creativity, youth, and enthusiasm. arden is one of the younger wolf-shifters in the pack! with her creative ways of picking on Chrissy! She just wants to have some fun you know? that being said Hyacinths mean Playfulness ad constancy. yes shes is playful and sometimes disrespectful- she's constant with it at least (IM JOKING IM JOKING! She is an amazing team player. )

Amanda - honestly I don't know much about Amanda however- from what I've heard about her I think I'm going to give her some Peach roses. Why? well, peach roses mean Sincerity, gratitude, and sympathy. her relationship with Christan shows how much she loves and cares for him. while after the inversion she wanted him to come with her back to her parents. She wanted to show her gratitude by living a safe life with Christan. the sincerity of not having to be hidden anymore. but earning her sympathy when declined. She understood.. (pink roses would also suit her)

Gabe - I could just make a meme here and give him some black roses and say it means death (which is one of their many meanings) but I'm not going to do that.. I would give him forget-me-nots and delphiniums. whenever David talks about his dad it's always mentioned just how of a big heart he had. and how playful he could be at times. and guess what just happens to mean Big-hearted? Delphiniums! Gabe has so many good memories that the pack still talks about to this day. and true love.. something Gabe had and then lost. But now they get to see the man their son has grown to be together.

Colm - Black and White roses.. in the case of Colm, he let his work ruin him. and well.. he found an outlet. it wasn't a healthy one. and all he can hope now is to fix what he broke. even if it's too late. Black roses can mean a lot however in colms case they're going to mean Rebirth and new beginnings. White roses mean redemption and grace. I shouldn't have to explain this reasoning.

BONUS

David's Mom - Her favorite flowers were honeysuckle and they're the perfect flowers to give her. they can mean Love, devotion happiness, and new beginnings! there is doubt in my mind that this woman was a joy to be around, someone who balanced out Gabe. And someone who wanted everything for her son. She was an amazing woman. and her choice of such makes me think that even more.

and here's the part 2 I was talking about! @dawnofiight

let me know if there is any other characters you want me to do

[vindicated-truth]

Random epiphany:

I think part of why there's a sort of ease and depth in my reflections about Beyond Evil's characters is because on average, they're my age.

When I was younger, I'd use to write about characters who are relatively older than me. It's a bit like trying on a costume, trying to play the part of someone so different from my own skin.

Now—I understand the characters I love a whole lot better, and connect to them in a much more profound way than I used to when I was younger. I'm now 35, I'm Asian, and I've loved and I've lost and had my world turned upside down, and writing about Beyond Evil isn't so much like putting on a costume anymore than it is like looking into a mirror.

Probably because it's really true what they say: there's a lot of maturity that comes with time and experience. Time really isn't something that can be replicated so easily, and there's an abundance of knowledge and wisdom that can only be gained over time.

It's why I do envy the innocence of youth sometimes, the way I can't go back to it anymore. Time makes that innocence forever lost to people my age.

But I also wouldn't give up everything I've learned with time, and with age. Not for anything, if only because it has all made me become stronger, and more importantly—kinder.

There's a mellowness I can relate to when it comes to the end of the story, because that's all people our age want in our lives: peace, happiness, and more time to spend with the people we love, while we still can.

[izzyspussy]

Hey. So. I just had a thought. Totally out of the blue. What about OFMD characters as Tarot cards, huh? Whadaya think? Totally unprompted thought.

Wow, what a strange and interesting thought to have without any kind of cue at all... 🤔

Okay disclaimer. This isn't going to have everyone or tbh even most of 'em, because this post is fully brought to you by how no character has more perfectly exemplified The Hermit to me before and not much else.

Stede + The Fool

I think Stede and Ed both fit this very well (among other characters). I had a plan a while back to draw a card where Stede was The Fool upright and Ed was The Fool Reversed except instead of The Fool and The Fool Reversed it was Fuck Around and Find Out, but then I couldn't find reference pics I liked and I actually can't draw. So. But anyway. I don't feel like I need to defend this pick? Stede is at the beginning of the journey of his life and he's got a youthful energy because of that, but he's ill prepared and needs guidance!

Ed + The Devil

Fave card alert. Ed has a pretty clear "dark side" that he believes he can keep separate from his "good side" - which of course is not possible, they coexist. This dark side consists of his temper, his traumatic past, his self loathing, etc, all things brought up in The Devil. He also tries to satisfy these darker things with instant gratification type shit - drugs, sex(? metaphorical? who can say what he's been doing to Izzy or not askfjsk, but at least it was literal with Jack anyway), physical destruction, sadism, etc. He also has himself convinced he has no control or choice over his actions, that he's just evil or whatever, which this card addresses. The Devil can also represent a powerful and passionate relationship - or a codependent one, like Ed and Izzy's. And of course he also does literally just call himself the Devil straight-up. Who am I to argue.

Zheng + The Empress

I mean she has an Empire, so. A bit on the nose, but you can't beat 1:1 accuracy lmao. She also has her balancing act between tenderness and authoritarianism. She's nurturing (so far, but considering her ship is called the Red Flag I doubt that's gonna last or will be proven disingenuous soon, but anyway...) but it can't be questioned that she is the Ruler of Rulers.

Oluwande + Strength

Patience! Gentleness not from the lack of violence but despite the abundance of it! Commitment! Steadfastness! Emotional endurance! Yeah!

Ben + The Hermit

My longest yeah boi ever. A man at a remote location in nature that may or may not materially exist, there to guide a lone, lost visitor to understanding of himself in absolute spiritual solitude. I mean, there have been purgatories just like this one in fiction before, but none of them quite struck The Hermit so hard on the nail for me as Ben did.

Izzy + The Hanged Man

*ominous - and disconcertingly horny - chanting* Whipping Boy! Whipping Boy! Whipping Boy! Not just that, though, of course. As a character Izzy also represents the need to put things on pause and think them the fuck through before you do some stupidass shit. He wanted a plan, and when he didn't get one he put a screeching fucking halt to god damn everything. And then he didn't fully think through his own actions either and got fucking murdered about it lol. He also, narratively, represents a differing perspective (at least in season one) from the accepted standard, that without considering - as many """fans""" have proven lmfao - you cannot fully understand the story. Izzy is also the number one guy who would need to take The Hanged Man's advice. Give up, bud!!! It's over!!! Stop torturing yourself!!! (Don't actually though, babygirl you look so good 🫦)

Black Pete + Knight of Cups

He's so romantic... *dreamy sigh* When he's at his best, he's compassionate, understanding, emotionally available and expressive, and has such an innocent natural charm. At his less best, he's constantly talking talk he actually can't or won't back up with action. "I'm a perfect shot," he says, and then balks at being asked to shoot something mere hours later. He has an idealized, unrealistic view of himself.

Jim + Page of Wands

Like The Fool, the Page of Wands is at the beginning of their journey, but they are still deliberating about where exactly it is they want to go. Jim in particular has two clear paths they can take in becoming the person they'll be. They can take the path of revenge and ruthlessness laid out for them by Nana and Blackbeard, or they can take the path of redemption and compassion they're being invited to by Oluwande and Stede. And the only way to figure out which way to go is to look internally and discover what they truly want, and choose the path that will give them that.

Frenchie + Page of Swords

Frenchie is full of ideas and enthusiasm! But he's also very adaptable, and though he's got that youthful energy he is not necessarily lacking in awareness or experience. He's a Jack of all trades like The Magician, but without the social separation or ambition. Reversed, Page of Swords can represent repression and lack of communication, which Frenchie "Invented Compartmentalization" is clearly familiar with. It can also be about promises you can't - or have no intention to - keep, like Frenchie's murderboat First Mate duties.

We don't really need to address how BlackBonnet are The Lovers, I think. And I've already seen more than one fanart of BlackHands as Three of Swords, so I'll just mark that correct shall I? ✔️ Keep 'em coming baby.

Thank you so much for indulging me, Andie!! IDK if you're even in this fandom at all or not alsfjks, but I hope you like these answers anyway.

[milkmynk]

C279 of The Husky and his White Cat Shizun

(I'm pretty sure I posted this before?? Did Tumblr eat my post or is my memory failing me??)

>>> SPOILERS

>>> SPOILERS

>>> SPOILERS

In a hidden valley.

It was late at night, and fresh snow drifted down outside the hut.

These few days, Mo Ran’s wounds kept deteriorating. Even though Chu Wan Ning used the Flower Soul Sacrifice spell to heal him, there was little effect.

In the afternoon, he groggily woke once, but his consciousness was vague. His eyes barely open, he saw Chu Wan Ning and cried, he apologized, then begged him not to leave, his words were jumbled and nonsensical, and at the end he simply wept, unable to speak.

He kept dreaming, constantly travelling through those years of unease.

One moment, he thought he had just been picked up by Xue Zhengyong, the other, he thought he were during those five years he had lost Chu Wan Ning.

The only thing he couldn’t dream of, were those memories that the Eight-Suffering-Hatred Flower had stolen from him. He couldn’t dream of all his sacrifices, of all his efforts at protection, of all his innocence.

“Mo Ran……” Carrying a bowl of freshly cooked congee, Chu Wan Ning came to his bedside.

The congee was just barely edible, and was made with the culinary skill of his past life.

He sat by the bed, raised a hand, and stroked Mo Ran’s forehead.

It was extremely hot with fever.

He called him, but couldn’t awaken him no matter what. So Chu Wan Ning waited, waited until the congee slowly grew cool, then cold, he felt that this would not do and warmed the congee in a water bath.

He didn’t know when Mo Ran would wake, but if he did, he would immediately have something to eat.

“I made it with chicken stock, your favourite,” Chu Wan Ning spoke to him softly. The spells keeping Mo Ran’s heart beating had never stopped, but Mo Ran could not wake up.

If he could not wake up, that meant that the moment the spells stopped, perhaps he would never wake up.

It was impossible to save him.

But he couldn’t bear to give up, how could he bear to give up?

Mo Ran was still alive, he still drew breath no matter how weakly. These days, as Chu Wan Ning kept a constant vigil at his side, seeing that his chest still rose and fell, he felt that there was still hope, that there was still turning back.

It was still in time.

Chu Wan Ning even remembered, one night, Mo Ran groggily woke. At that time, there was no lamplight in the hut. Mo Ran stared dazedly at the lamp, his dried lips slightly moving.

He was very agitated and grabbed Mo Ran’s hand hurriedly, asking, “What are you trying to say?”

“...... Light……”

“What?”

“...... Light….. I want light……” Mo Ran gazed at the lamp that he was fated never to be able to light, and a tear fell, rolling down his face, “I want light…”

In that moment, it was like time had reversed.

It was as if they had gone back to that year, when Mo Ran had just come under his tutelage. Mo Ran fell ill, the skinny youth curled up on the bed dazedly.

When Chu Wan Ning visited him, he was sobbing quietly and calling for his mom.

Unsure of how to soothe him, Chu Wan Ning sat beside the youth’s bed, raised his hand hesitatingly, and stroked the youth’s forehead.

That skinny child began to cry, and said, “It’s dark…… It’s all dark…… Mom…… I want to go home……”

In the end, it was Chu Wan Ning who lit the lamp, the flickering fire casting light on the four walls, and on Chu Wan Ning’s face. As though he felt the warmth of the light, the feverish child opened a pair of black, damp eyes.

“Shizun……”

Chu Wan Ning made a sound of reply, and helped cover him with the blanket. His voice was low and sounded very gentle, “Mo Ran, the light is lit… Don’t be afraid.”

After so many years, a lone, small lamp was once again lit up, the warm yellow light spreading in the hut, driving away the endless darkness and chill. 

Chu Wan Ning caressed his bangs, and called him hoarsely, “Mo Ran, the light is lit.”

He wanted to continue, don’t be afraid.

But his throat choked on a sob, and he couldn’t say it. Chu Wan Ning managed to hold his tears back, but he finally placed his forehead against Mo Ran’s, and begged in low, fragmented sobs, “...... The light is lit, wake up, please?”

“Answer me, please…...”

The lamp kept burning, the flame going from clear and bright, until the oil was exhausted.

Afterwards, the sky lit up, white light flooding in from the windows, but Mo Ran still did not open his eyes. Those times when that deeply sleeping youth could be awoken with a single lamp, were over.

There was no turning back.

Another three nights passed.

These days Chu Wan Ning kept vigil by his bedside everyday, caring for him, accompanying him, giving him spiritual energy, and also telling him about those things which he had slowly forgotten.

This evening, the snow had stopped and the sun was red outside their window, the remaining sunlight scattering over the land. A pair of squirrels bounded on a snow-laden branch as they passed, and a flurry of glittering white flew, then fell.

This light fell on the man lying on the bed, the evening light adding some color to his sickly white complexion. Under his thin eyelids, his eyes moved slightly-- Then, he gradually opened his eyes.

After several days of heavy illness, Mo Ran finally woke.

He opened his eyes, his gaze dazed and empty, until he saw Chu Wan Ning sprawled on the side of his bed in shallow, exhausted slumber.

Mo Ran whispered hoarsely, in a daze, “Shizun……”

He lay under the sheets, his consciousness slowly coming back to himself, slowly, he vaguely remembered while he was drifting in and out of sleep, those things Chu Wan Ning repeatedly told him about.

That cup of wine on Mid-Autumn’s, the crabapple handkerchief..…. And that year in the Red Lotus Pavilion, the Eight-Suffering-Hatred flower that he had chosen to take in his place.

Was it a dream?

Was it only that he yearned for salvation too much, that’s why he dreamt that Chu Wan Ning had told him those stories; was it only that he longed to turn back too much, that’s why he dreamt that Chu Wan Ning was willing to forgive him, was willing to give him forgiveness.

He slanted his face and reached out one hand, wanting to touch that man sleeping deeply by his pillow. But his fingertips had yet to touch him, before they retracted.

He was afraid that once he touched him, the dream would shatter.

He was still in the Tianyin Pavilion, he was still kneeling on the Stage of Guilt, below him were the masses of observers. He was kneeling alone in front of thousands, those people in the end turning to a sea of blurred faces in his eyes, turning into those vengeful souls that had died under his hand, laughing and screaming for his life.

Nobody wanted him, nobody saved him.

It was all his shamelessness, it was all his wild ambition, it was him going crazy, it was him hallucinating that Chu Wan Ning had come--- It was him, in the violent torture of having his heart dug out, he had hallucinated the last fire in the world.

It was all false.

There was never anyone who broke his chains, there was never anyone who embraced him, there was never anyone who rode the wind to him, there was never anyone who brought him home.

His eyelashes trembled, tears formed in his eyes. He stared at Chu Wan Ning’s sleeping face, he didn’t dare to blink, until his eyes finally blurred, until his tears finally fell.

Chu Wan Ning’s reflection shattered into a thousand million shining splinters, and he looked upon his good dream again.

The dream, was still there.

Mo Ran lay weakly on the bed, his eyelashes wet, his throat contracting, tears falling endlessly from the corners of his eyes…… His heart hurt greatly, the blood was oozing outwards without stopping. Afraid that he would wake Chu Wan Ning who had fallen asleep for a moment, he bit his lip as he wept soundlessly.

He had woken, but he knew his own body. He knew that this was only temporary, that it was just a final burst of life.

It was also the last mercy the heavens had given him.

He, Mo Wei Yu, had lived in anxiety for most of his life, had lived in insanity for a lifetime. His hands covered in blood, unable to escape from his reputation, only at the last was he finally convicted. Hence he felt very dazed, even a little uneasy.

He didn’t know whether this was fortune or misfortune.

It was misfortunate, that he had lived both his lives in absurdity.

It was fortunate, that the remainder of his days, could finally be spent in peace.

But how many days did he have left? One day? Two?

This was a peace he had exchanged for with his life.

--- Peaceful days, which he had never had before.

Eventually he heard Chu Wan Ning stir, and he hurriedly wiped his tears away, not wanting to let Shizun see that he was crying.

Mo Ran turned his head, watching the lashes of the person beside his bed quiver, watching those narrow eyes ease open, watching himself be reflected in those eyes.

Outside, the sky turned dark.

He heard Chu Wan Ning lightly call him in a slightly hoarse voice, “Mo…… Ran?”

That sound was low and gentle and slow, like a spring bud breaking through the soil, like the thawing of a frozen river, like tendrils of warm steam rising from a heated jar of wine, warming one’s heart. It was a heavenly music that he would never forget in this life. So Mo Ran was silent for a while, then he smiled.

“Shizun, I’ve woken.”

The night was clear, the life ahead was long.

That night, in the hidden valley, Mo Ran finally experienced the most carefree, most gentle time of both his lifetimes. He woke, and he could see the overjoyed surprise and sorrow in Chu Wan Ning’s eyes. He woke, lying on the bed, he let Chu Wan Ning do whatever he wanted, say whatever he wanted, he let Chu Wan Ning tell him about this and that incident and misunderstanding.

To him, it was not important.

He just wanted to hold on a little longer, just a little longer.

“Let me see your wound again.”

“Nah.” Mo Ran smiled as he held Chu Wan Ning’s hand, carrying it to his lips for a light kiss. “I’m fine now.”

After rejecting a few times, Chu Wan Ning gazed at him, then seemed to suddenly understand something, his face going pale little by little.

Mo Ran forced himself to stay at ease as he gently repeated, “I’m really fine now.”

Chu Wan Ning didn’t reply, after a while, he stood up and walked over to the stove. The firewood in it was gradually burning out, he turned his back to Mo Ran as he slowly agitated the wood.

The fire rose and the hut became warm again, but Chu Wan Ning didn’t turn his head back, using the poker to continue stirring the wood which no longer needed stirring.

“Congee……”

At last, his voice was hoarse as he said.

“I kept the congee warm for you, waiting for you to eat it after waking up.”

Mo Ran was silent for a moment before he lowered his eyelids and laughed. “...... I haven’t had Wan Ning’s congee in a long time, after you left in my last life, I’ve never had it again.”

“I didn’t make it well.” Chu Wan Ning said, “I’m still not good at it, probably…… It’s only barely palatable……” His voice trembled a little at the end, as though he could no longer continue talking.

He paused for a long while before slowly saying, “I’ll fill a bowl for you.”

Mo Ran replied, “...... Okay.”

It was very warm in the hut, as the night deepened, snow began drifting down.

Mo Ran carried his bowl of congee, carefully eating it. Every few mouthfuls, he would look at Chu Wan Ning, then lower his head to continue eating, then look back up at Chu Wan Ning.

Chu Wan Ning asked, “What’s wrong? Do you feel discomfort anywhere?”

“No,” Mo Ran replied quietly, “I just want to look at you more.”

“......” Chu Wan Ning didn’t say a word, and used his silver dagger to carve the fish roasting over the stove. The river fish was meltingly tender, but there were still spines in it, he removed all the spines and separated the snow-white fish meat meticulously.

In the past when he ate, Mo Ran always took care of him.

Now, the reverse was also true.

He handed the cut fish to Mo Ran, “Eat it while it’s hot.”

Mo Ran obediently ate it.

When this man was lying on the bed covered by the blanket, he did not seem so tall. The orange firelight illuminated his face, it was very youthful.

At this time, Chu Wan Ning suddenly realized. Truthfully, whether it was Taxian-jun, or Grandmaster Mo, they were both younger than himself by an entire decade.

Yet, they had endured so much hardship.

Mo Ran finished his congee, but picked up the plumpest piece of fish meat and was about to hand it to Chu Wan Ning, but stopped. “Shizun, what’s wrong?”

Chu Wan Ning lowered his head, the rim of his eyes slightly red. He steadied his emotions before unemotionally saying, “It’s nothing, it’s just a little cold.”

Afraid that if he sat here he would be less and less able to control himself, he got up. “I’m going to patrol the surroundings, after you finish eating, hurry and go rest. When your wounds are better, I will bring you back to the Peak of Life and Death.”

They both knew that this apparent recovery was nothing more than a temporary burst of life, that there weren’t many days left.

Yet, they spoke of tomorrow, of the future. As though they wanted to cram the next few decades into this one night, as though they wanted to spend all their future days in this one snowy night.

After Chu Wan Ning left, Mo Ran sat in front of the stove for a while before loosening his clothes and lowering his head to look at the ugly wound.

He sat there blankly for a while, emptily.

The snow outside fell more and more heavily, Mo Ran didn’t know when he would suddenly deteriorate, nor when his life would come to its end. He sprawled beside the bed and watched the snow drifting outside, the whistle of the wind in his ears, and suddenly felt like his life was like this harried wind, everything in his past flowing away.

Actually no matter whether it was his past life, or this life, there were always such intelligent people scheming and calculating.

Whether it was Shizun, or Shimei, one of them wanted to protect him, the other wanted to harm him, but they all had their own calculations. Even though through some twist in fate they may not have succeeded, but they all had their long-term schemes.

Mo Ran wasn’t like them, he was the sort of canine that was extremely stupid, and didn’t have any such roundabout thoughts. He didn’t know how to plan each step, or how to play a beautiful game of chess. He only knew how to steadfastly protect the one he loves, no matter whether he were grievously wounded to the bone, he would still obstinately stand in front of that person, and never leave.

Said in a nice way, this sort of person is brave.

Said in a bad way, this sort of person, is stupid.

This extremely stupid person lay by the window, his lashes quivering, and suddenly saw a familiar figure standing under a distant plum tree.

Chu Wan Ning didn’t go to patrol, this was only his excuse.

The snow was too heavy and he was standing too far away for Mo Ran to clearly see any emotion on his face, only his blurred silhouette. He stood under the blanket of falling snow, unmoving.

What was he thinking about?

Was he cold?

He……

“Shizun.”

Chu Wan Ning was in a daze when he turned his head back and saw, in the dark night, in the snow, that black-clothed youth wrapped in the blanket. He had, without him realizing, come up behind him.

Chu Wan Ning startled and immediately said, “Why are you out here? What did you come here for? Hurry up and---”

He hadn’t managed to say, “go back”, when a warmth enveloped him. 

Mo Ran raised the blanket over them, darkness and warmth descended, and he enveloped Chu Wan Ning into the blanket.

The two of them stood under the old plum tree, standing inside that thick, disused blanket which smelled a little musty no matter how long it was sunned. No matter how heavy the snow was, or how the wind howled, it had nothing to do with them.

Mo Ran embraced him inside this warmth and pitch darkness. “Don’t think about it anymore, even though I don’t remember any of those things Shizun told me about, but……”

He paused, and kissed Chu Wan Ning’s forehead, then continued in a small voice, “But if I had to go back and go through it again, I would still have done the same.”

“......”

“Besides,” he felt for and caught Chu Wan Ning’s frozen hands in his own, “Shizun doesn’t have to feel bad. Actually, I feel that what Shimei said was correct, the Eight-Suffering-Hatred Flower merely amplified and realized those unspeakable thoughts and desires in my heart.”

Their fingers entwined.

Mo Ran touched his forehead to his. “I originally had a lot of hatred in my heart, it’s just that I didn’t vent them when I was young. Massacring the Rufeng Sect…… I did think of it. Conquering the world, I also thought of it. It’s pretty funny, when I was five or six and hiding inside a broken room, I did fantasize about one day being all-powerful. These are all my own desires, nobody forced them on me.”

He stroked Chu Wan Ning’s face. “So, if the one who had been parasitized at the time had been Shizun, perhaps you wouldn’t have become an evil tyrant like me. And you wouldn’t have been used, or tried by the Tianyin Pavilion.” He laughed, a nasal tone to it, and nuzzled his forehead against his comfortingly. “I didn’t substitute you, so don’t think about it anymore, come back to the house and sleep.”

The bed was very narrow, Mo Ran cradled him in his arms.

The moment that had to come would always come closer and closer, there was no escaping.

Mo Ran’s consciousness began to become blurred and scattered again, the twisting pain in his heart was greater than it had ever been before. This final burst of life would not last too long, when Mom died it was like this as well, he knew that he didn’t have much time left.

He lowered his thick lashes, the stove’s fire at this time had already dimmed. That hazy yellow light illuminated his youthful, handsome face, and made it seem extraordinarily gentle.

This stupid man, probably seeing the pain in Chu Wan Ning’s gaze, endured his own pain and asked with a smile, “Does it look good?”

Chu Wan Ning paused for a moment, as expected. “What?”

“The scar.” Mo Ran said, “A man should have a few scars, it’s more manly.”

Chu Wan Ning fell silent for a while, raised his hand, and slapped him neither lightly nor heavily. The slap was so light, it seemed more like a caress.

After a moment, he seemed to finally no longer be able to bear it, and buried himself in Mo Ran’s warm embrace. He didn’t make a sound, but his shoulders were trembling.

He knew.

Chu Wan Ning knew.

Mo Ran startled for a moment, embraced him, kissed his temple and hair.

“It’s so ugly, huh.” After going through crisis, he was far gentler than before, he lightly sighed. “It’s so ugly it made Wan Ning cry?”

If he had said Shizun, that would have still been alright.

With this ‘Wan Ning’, two lives crossed.

Chu Wan Ning hugged this man’s hot and alive body under the blanket--- He had always despised and been ashamed of expressing any of the strong emotions in his heart, but at this moment, he felt that all his tension and shame were so ridiculous, so absurd.

So in this close embrace, on this narrow bed, in this empty hut, on this long, snowy night.

Chu Wan Ning said softly, “How could it be ugly? Whether you have a scar, or whether you don’t, you’re still good-looking.”

Mo Ran startled.

He had never before heard Chu Wan Ning confess so directly.

Not even that day, when he confessed while riding on the flying sword.

There was only a little firelight left in the hut, it was very quiet, and very gentle.

A belated tranquility and gentleness. 

[This is a play on Wan Ning’s name; Wan = late, Ning = tranquil]

“Whether it’s in the past life, or in this life, I like you, I am willing to be with you, even in the future.”

Mo Ran listened to him speak, sentence by sentence, he couldn’t see Chu Wan Ning’s face properly, but he could imagine Chu Wan Ning’s appearance right now.

Probably, his eyes were red, even his ear tips were red.

“In the past, I knew you were parasitized but I couldn’t show it, I could only hate you…… I can finally repay it to you.” Chu Wan Ning’s face were hot, the corners of his eyes damp, “I like you, I’m willing to marry you, I’m willing to split my soul for you, I’m willing to submit to you.”

When he heard “willing to submit to you”, Mo Ran’s heart seemed to be set aflame, his whole body trembled.

He was touched, and sorrowful, pained, and yet tender.

His voice was practically quivering, “Shizun…...”

Chu Wan Ning lifted his hand and stopped him. “Listen to me finish.”

But after waiting a long while, Chu Wan Ning was after all not good at saying sweet words. He thought of a lot, but none of them seemed appropriate, none of them seemed enough.

For a moment, Chu Wan Ning really wanted to say, “I’m sorry, I let you bear too much hardship.”

He also wanted to say, “In our past lives until I left, I couldn’t honestly tell you the truth, I mistook you.”

He also wanted to say, “That year in the Red Lotus Pavilion, thank you for being willing to protect me.”

He even wanted to throw away all his pride at this moment, he wanted to cry to Mo Ran, he wanted to hold this body which had yet to lose its warmth, and say, “Please don’t go, please don’t leave.”

But his throat constricted, his heart was filled with pain.

At last, Chu Wan Ning lowered his head and kissed Mo Ran’s wound. His lashes shivered, as he said.

“Mo Ran, no matter what happened in the past, or what will happen in the future, I will always be with you.”

Embarrassment permeated his entire body.

But his words were grave.

“For my whole life I will be Taxian-jun’s, as well as Grandmaster Mo’s.”

It was too hot.

Mo Ran only felt that this flame in his arms lit up again, in his eyes fireworks bloomed, all pain and sorrow seemed to fade away at this moment.

“Both lifetimes, belong to you.”

“No regret.”

Mo Ran slowly closed his wet eyes.

At the last, he kissed Chu Wan Ning’s lips, and sighed. “...... Shizun…… Thank you.”

The snow outside fell heavier and heavier, the night turned darker and darker.

They cradled each other in their arms, thinking, so, this is the remainder of life.

Mo Ran knew that his shirt was soaked with tears, but he didn’t say anything. He had wished from young that the remainder of his life would be filled with happiness, at this time, they should at least be happy.

He held Chu Wan Ning and said, “Sleep, Wan Ning. Sleep, I’ll hold you. You’re afraid of the cold, I’ll warm you.”

“When I’m well, we’ll go back to the Peak of Life and Death together, I want to seek forgiveness from my uncle and aunt, I want to squabble with Xue Meng again…… We still have many things to do……”

He stroked Chu Wan Ning’s hair, his voice was soft.

The copper-sweet taste of blood filled his mouth, and his breathing became more and more difficult.

But he was still smiling, his expression at this time was very tranquil. “Shizun, I will carry your umbrella for you for my whole life.”

In his arms, Chu Wan Ning wept soundlessly.

“Xia-shidi……” He teased him again, he obviously could barely speak anymore, but he still teased him, “Shi-ge...... will tell you a story…… I’ll tell you a story every night, from now on…… Don’t be disdainful that Shi-ge is clumsy with words and can only, tell the story of a cow eating grass……”

At the very, very last, Mo Ran lifted his eyelids, and looked at the thick snow piled on the window sill.

The land was covered in pure white.

“Wan Ning.” He embraced him, his heartbeat echoing in Chu Wan Ning’s ear, his voice quiet, “I will always love you.”

He slowly closed his eyes, his dimples were shallow.

His heartbeat slowed little by little, becoming more and more erratic.

Suddenly, a tree branch outside the window snapped from the weight of snow piled on it, making an abrupt disturbance. The snow and tree branch fell to the ground together with a loud noise.

After this disturbance, Chu Wan Ning, could no longer hear that heartbeat in his ear.

He waited for a bit, he waited for a moment, he waited for a while, he waited for a long time.

No more sound came.

No more sound…… There was nothing……

That was a terrifying silence that chilled one to the bone.

It was a terrifying silence that made one despair for his whole life.

Final.

Still.

Silence.

The room was filled with a deathly silence, so quiet it was frightening.

After very, very long, Chu Wan Ning still didn’t move. He still lay in Mo Ran’s embrace, still lay on the bed, he didn’t even get up or lift his head, nor did he speak.

His little disciple, his Mo-Shixiong, his Taxian-jun wanted him to sleep.

He said he would carry his umbrella for him for his whole life, tell him stories for his whole life, love him for the remainder of his life.

Mo Ran said, it’s cold outside, it’s snowing heavily.

I’ll warm you.

Chu Wan Ning curled in his arms, curled against that chest which had yet to lose its warmth, and stayed unmoving.

They had to set out on their journey home tomorrow.

He had to rest properly with Mo Ran.

Chu Wan Ning reached out his arm, and wrapped it around Mo Ran’s waist.

In the black night, he said, “Fine, I’ll listen to you and sleep. …… But, tomorrow, once I call you, you have to remember to wake up.”

He pressed against that chest which no longer rose and fell, his tears soaking and warming Mo Ran’s clothes.

“You’re not allowed to sleep in.”

Good night, Mo Ran.

This night is very long, but I’ll be with you, wishing you a good dream, with fire, with light.

And home.

[stellarcollisionfic]

tell me about Jade. I love her I want to know More

🥹 thank you for letting me rant about my girl 💕

Jade Walker: Character Info/HC’s

- Jade is 28 at the start of Stellar Collision. This is important because Jade is very personal to me and I feel like I don’t know what’s going on (in my 20’s as well 🥲). She’s old enough for there to be an expectation that she knows what she wants out of life, but she is hopelessly lost prior to finding Constellation. (Get it? A “Constellation”helping her find her way??? …I’ll see myself out)

-On the subject, she’s definitely more morally gray than Sarah (but who isn’t?). She made bad choices in her youth. It was important to me that she actually had a relatively happy and comfortable home life, because that kind of adds to her dilemma- she’s not forced into this life of crime that she lived before Sarah. She chose it, and has regrets. She lives in fear of the fact that it’s too late for redemption, or for her to be a productive member of society, despite how young she truly is. A lot of the times we have the orphaned protagonist, or the one with bad familial relations- but Jade is solely responsible for taking the easy way out plenty of times in her past, and now it’s coming back to haunt her. Originally, I considered having her father be a potentially injured vet in the colony war- to give her a motivation to have made all these egregious decisions for financial comfort, but I decided against it.

-Still, Jade does send the majority of her credits to her parents because, in some twisted sense, she wants to be good. She simply doesn’t know how, with her particular skillset, until Sarah and Constellation come along. Now, she has a greater purpose. Unfortunately, it’s far greater than she ever could have imagined. But hey…be careful what you wish for, right?

Personality

-Jade is seemingly confident, perhaps a little arrogant at times. She’s young enough still to have that carefree, somewhat reckless sense about her. She’s very playful and wry with her sense of humor. She’s a flirt through and through, and of course, attracted to older women- or women in authority, at any rate- (though she does seem to resent any kind of authority. Take that as you will). She’s definitely my coolest OC. She thinks Constellation is a very lovable collection of nerds (Andreja being the exception!) Though, she does manage to act like a nervous bumbling idiot in front of Sarah a few times, anyway.

-Jade is definitely an athlete, and her favorite way to work out is to fuck Sarah silly train with Andreja. 😊

- Her style has always been classic cool- black, leather, jeans, the works. Her hair is definitely longer than in the pfp- but that’s as close as we’re getting in-game. I think Rosamund and Eiza (from I care a a lot) are decently close to how I’d envision them.

-She may appear morally ambiguous, but she’s kind. Understanding, given her past. She’s Andreja’s best friend for a reason- she clocks constellation’s micro-aggressions towards Andreja or the Va’Ruun from time to time, and she lets them hear it. She’s good with Sona- even stopping to buy her clothes of her own while she was still injured from Cassiopeia. She is ambiguous regarding the law, justice, deeper topics- though she doesn’t condone harming innocent people or going a murder spree or anything atrocious like that.

-Jade’s fears are as follows:

1. She fears she’s irredeemable. That she’s already wasted her life and accomplished nothing, lying to her parents about how she’s been supporting them prior to Constellation and carrying great shame.

2. She’s afraid of dying. Self explanatory, and obviously due to the powers eating away at her. She’s young. She’s terrified. She doesn’t want to show it.

3. She’s afraid of losing Sarah. She chose Sarah over Sam, point blank. She’d do frightening things for Sarah- things Sarah herself would not approve of.

4. She doesn’t want to die without marrying Sarah properly 🥺💔 it’s the only thing she desperately needs before her time runs out. Those pesky Starborn and the damn UC seem intent on letting her do so, I’m afraid. She’s already made arrangements for her parents, already offered Sarah her galacticat plushie. All that’s left is tying the knot. She wants to be Jade Morgan very fucking badly.

Jade and Sarah

-At first, the attraction is simple: Jade hates authority, Sarah infuriates Jade, Jade is turned on by her intensity but yells right back, Sarah is turned on by her intensity (and insolence 😭)

Rinse and repeat.

-As their relationship progresses, Jade looks up to Sarah. She starts to burn for Sarah’s approval, willing to change her stubborn approach to life because this woman believes in her. This woman knows of her wrong-doing and still wants to give her a chance. She spends more time with Sarah. Starts teasing her more, they become friendly. It is then that Jade realizes she wants more than Sarah’s approval as a boss. She wants Sarah. Badly.

-On the topic of sex: they switch, obviously. I think Sarah’s more experienced, given her age- but Jade isn’t too far behind. Jade is a naturally jealous person- especially for Sarah’s affections. So this talk of “Aja” makes her so sour at the beginning 😭. She’s had a few prior relationships of note- mainly Capt. Marquez (who turned out to be a real one!!!) (Sarah does not love that). I think Jade talks a big game but Sarah is absolutely wearing the pants in the bedroom (and maybe their relationship, to an extent). Jade is something of a service top- but that’s not entirely accurate because Sarah has her way with her a lot, too. Just depends on the occasion 😏

-Jade’s dream bedroom fantasy involves Sarah in nothing but her jacket and an entire floor of a building to themselves so she can put her powers to use on the one thing that matters: Pleasuring Sarah Morgan.

-I think Sarah is everything Jade isn’t, and that’s why they work so well together. Sarah is neat, meticulous, everything she does is calculated, formal, rooted in logic. She NEEDS to believe in the law, needs to believe in order. Jade doesn’t. Jade acts with her heart, never her damn head 😭💀 she’s impulsive, reckless, and disregards facts that don’t serve her cause. She also challenges Sarah and Walter on many things, initially. But she has SUCH a capacity for love, for affection, for doing the right thing. And Sarah just…can’t stop thinking about her 🥹💕

-They give each other a second chance. They give each other unconditional love, guidance, laughter, and yes- sometimes anger 😅 but it only fuels their ever-growing attraction to one another. Jade thinks Sarah is the catch of a lifetime- and she is. Sarah thinks Jade is a brilliant, beautiful, stubborn, sexy idiot whom she absolutely cannot live without. She relies on Jade so much- the idea of having to raise Sona alone scares the shit out of her.

-From Sarah, Jade learns that she has so much to offer. She can be good. She can contribute and have a family of her own. The price, unfortunately, is staggering. Jade learns from Sarah that the true joy lies not in the destination, but the journey. She’s terrified, but…making peace with her inevitable ending. She got to live, to love, she protected Sarah…she’s come a long way. She can die happy, if it means Sarah’s going to be okay. She finally feels as if she has a path in front of her…though it’s not the one she expected.

-Sarah, on the other hand? She’d rather die before she lets go of Jade. Without Jade, she is a shell of herself- reduced to whoever she was before she ever returned to Cassiopeia and put that to rest. She’s learned so much from Jade- being skeptical of her formerly beloved UC, for instance. Sarah is all that stands between the UC and the FC in what is sure to be another full-scale war.

Without Jade by her side…the task is near impossible.

Sarah is NOT going to let her fiancée slip away into nothingness. Though it seems she won’t be afforded a choice.

However this ends, it sure is going to go out with a *bang*!!! 🫠

Here is Jade in the enhance lounge (but we pretend it’s her getting her diagnosis at the clinic instead lol 🥺💔)

And some obligatory gallery shots if you made it this far ☺️

[poeticlumineer]

Intangible Tangent

The plot thickens

And I am lost in the fog

Unable to see in front of me

Idle words cradle me to sleep

I am painfully aware I am not myself

Falling into an abyss

And I can’t get the fuck out

My life in shambles a bargain I did not want

Regardless how much I cry out she never comes

And while I say her name every night before I go to sleep

I doubt I enter her mind or even her dreams at the least

I’ve dragged this out long enough

Seventeen years and a thousand words

Some forgotten, some lost, some erased

Time forgets all things that’s a lie told to us

To make us feel better about the mistakes we made

The chances we never took the choices we didn’t make

And now we grow old withering

Writhing in agony thinking about fate

Destiny and all those nefarious things

That make us believe in a happy ever after

But we know it’s not like that and treachery

Lingers and rears its ugly head another subtle reminder

That everything that sparkles is not gold and we’re all fools

Let me go back to that wonderland though

Let me believe once more give me back my innocence

Give me back my youthful exuberance and uncanniness

Give me back all that I once was because I hate who I became

I hate what you made me out to be only to have you take it back

And then say it back with impunity

[inlovewith-icecream]

"Watch and learn, little Humphrey" (A Blair Waldorf/Jenny Humphrey Playlist)

(Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand; you're looking at me like you don't know who I am; blood on my shirt, heart in my hand; still beating), Teeth (5 Seconds of Summer)

(Oh, 'cause I keep diggin' myself down deeper I won't stop 'til I get where you are; I keep running, I keep running, I keep running/they say I may be making a mistake; I woulda followed all the way, no matter how far), Graveyard (Halsey)

(Maybe I should try harder; you should lower your expectations/teach me how to be okay; I don't want to downplay my emotions), Prom Queen (Beach Bunny)

(Turned her tears to diamonds in her crown/but she'd trade it all for a heart that's whole), Prom Queen (Molly Kate Kesner)

(The wasted years, the wasted youth; the pretty lies, the ugly truth/adolescence didn't make sense; a little loss of innocence; the ugly years of being a fool; ain't youth meant to be beautiful?), Teen Idle (Marina)

(You got that medicine I need; fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly/I don't really wanna know what's good for me; God's dead, I said, "Baby, that's alright with me"/It's innocence lost, innocence lost), Gods and Monsters (Lana Del Rey)

(When your skin doesn't feel like home; and I don't wanna break down and feel alone; this body only knows; how to hold back more than it shows), Wrong Victory (MSMR)

(She's an It Girl so plain to see; and we all want to be; just like her; she maybe overrated; but one thing for sure/she's so opinionated; so very complicated; she got the whole world; she's the latest It Girl), It Girl (Twirl)

(My heart is massive; but it’s empty a permanent part of me; that innocent artery; is gasping for some real attention), Easier Than Lying (Halsey)

(No matter how sweet the salt; we push so hard we finally broke/everyone keeps asking are we okay; the truth is we're not but I don't know what to say), All The Things Lost (MSMR)

(Don't make a sound now; don't make a sound now; maybe it won't find us after all; carry me home), Surrender (Digital Daggers)

(If the morning light don't steal our soul; we will walk away from empty gold/they can break our hearts; they won't take our soul), Empty Gold (Halsey)

(Why do we play in the thorns; and still wonder why we're torn/is it better to love than never at all; or are we building towers just to watch them fall), Blood in the Water (Empara Mi)

(This is our time; no turning back; we could live, we could live like legends/Fate falls hard on our shoulders; but legends never die), Live Like Legends (Ruelle)

(Empires rise, empires fall; we live or die to take the throne/only one will stand at the end of it all), Empires (Ruelle)