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failing-to-write-again · 28 days ago

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Bloody Gift Exchange 2024

Hi @cakeemoji I hope you like the fic. I chose Shu from your list of liked characters as I felt I could do my best with him. I tried to blend some of the trends of the audio cds and games when Shu has his softer moments.

Thanks to @diabolik-lovers-weekly for organising the exchange. It feels good for the fandom to come together for things like this.

The autumnal chill in the air had me adjusting the sleeves of my jumper, the carriage constantly jostling slightly from the bumps and dips in the road ahead. Crowds were gathered on either side of the winding streets en route to the Chateau de Vampire King. Pulling the curtains shut I sunk back against the plush seating, pushing myself as far into the corner as possible. What on Earth had I gotten myself into, agreeing to come was a complete mistake as far as I was concerned. The events from three months ago replayed in my mind like a mocking joke.

“What clothes do you want packed for a week? Tell the familiars by tomorrow”

“What?”

Shu had sighed, as if the mere act of explaining was the most unbearable chore in existence. He had dropped next to me on the bed, holding his head up as his earphones dangled around his neck.

“I have a festival to attend for the October full moon, meaning you have to attend as well. So, choose what you want packed, and tomorrow you have to meet the tailor to be measured. This whole thing is such a pain.”

A silence stretched between us as I sat agape across from him, eyebrows knotted in complete disbelief. The blank stare returned to me did little to ease the confusion. Shu sighed again, reaching his free hand out to tap the necklace he had put around my neck almost a year ago.

“This means you signed up for it. You don’t get to take it back now, you’re mine, woman. So don’t be so much of a pain as to make me go a week while desperate debutantes throw themselves at me.”

My cheeks warmed, the sincere look in his eyes never failing to catch me off guard. I let my hand weave its way into his, squeezing it slightly.

“But we can’t even spend time together at those balls, I just have to watch you dance.”

Shu didn’t have much to say to that, his eyes focused on some far off spot. I had learnt some time ago that when Shu looked like he wasn’t listening it was when he was listening the most. He loosened his hand from mine, wrapping it around my waist and pulling me close.

“You should come to this one anyway. It’s like I said you have to be there if I have to.”

That had been that and now the very same necklace was being spun between my fingers, sat alone in this carriage, trapped by the crowds unaware of your existence while Shu was somewhere in the same procession. No doubt the crowds were full of hopeful nobles with single daughters. Ridiculous protocols demanded the heir had to travel alone, unless married, and the lack of his brothers meant nobody was around to share the space with you. Karl Heinz was likely either in a carriage along the same road or already at the castle. The risk of having multiple important members of the royal line in one place probably meant he was already waiting in his study for our arrival. While I was still an Eve and therefore a completely acceptable choice in his eyes, the man still gave me the creeps. Stories of his treatment of the Sakamakis and his mysterious behaviour made it clear the man was not to be trusted.

The noise outside was slowly dimming, until a loud gate groaned and screeched slowly then a moment later slammed shut. This cycle repeated twice more before I felt the carriage shake as the sounds of cobblestone shifted to a smoother ride along the flatter road of the castle courtyard. The final slam sealing of my fate for the next week.

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I would be lying if I said the castle wasn’t impressive, but its oppressive atmosphere and the constant feeling that someone is watching you was definitely a deal breaker. However, my original plan of hiding away in my room until Shu appeared was beginning to feel impossible with the blonde haired vampire not appearing at his usual nap time. Leaving me to wander the halls in search of him. Looming portraits and lifeless familiars had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up and goosebumps littering my arms uncaring of the thick cardigan wrapped around me. Shu’s cardigan to be specific, borrowed without permission from his room the morning of our departure, the worn but soft material was coated in the scent of his cologne and the toasty undertone that could only be described as... well Shu. The last visit to the castle had been so very different, I had just been marked as an ‘Eve’ with my link to Shu newly forming. Shu had been near stuck to me when we weren’t around vampires, paired with the amount of vampires present had made the more eerie parts of the castle less noticeable.

Nearing the door, I recognised as Shu’s general room of choice, I gently knocked waiting for his quiet beckoning to enter. Yet it never came, the room was completely stark, without any sign of his bags or him. I was left back where I began once more. Venturing through the curving halls and winding staircases of the castle was daunting but the idea of returning to my room felt worse.

After an hour of wandering and an embarrassing number of unread texts I was close to giving up. He must have been pulled to some prince linked task, or had fallen asleep somewhere I couldn’t find. I had explored so absent mindedly I completely missed I had taken myself right to his father’s study, the large mahogany doors threatening to swing open and leave me alone with a man that even made Shu nervous. Turning I start briskly walking away, aiming to avoid any potential vampires waiting to meet with the man and go to my room to lick my wounds. Yet whatever power may be decided that was the perfect time for the doors to creak open behind me. Bracing myself to curtsey and keep my mouth as shut as possible to hopefully avoid any confrontation I turn. My head quickly bowed as taught by Reiji, I dropped my knee as practiced.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t realise I had walked all the way here. I’ll be out of your way now.”

“That desperate to stay away? What a bothersome woman.” My head flew up, greeted with blue rather than golden eyes. Shu’s teasing smirk lifting the stress from my shoulders. I rose quickly, wringing my hands together.

“I was looking for you, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were the one trying to stay away from me.” He chuckled at that, reaching out a hand to brush against mine.

“But you do know better apparently?” He teased, leaning down and speaking in a voice so soft as if he was sharing a secret.

“You missed your nap.” I whispered back slipping my hand properly into his. Suddenly returned to my room. Shu slowly shuffled back, keeping me close until he was laid back in bed with me hovering over him. He pulled me close, a hand wrapping around the back of my head to hold me close to his chest, his other arm wrapping around my back. The bed was warm, and the gentle rise and fall of Shu’s chest was already lulling me to sleep.

“My pillow knows me well I see. Well, since I’m feeling nice I’ll take my nap now or else you’ll be bothersome and cranky,” an earphone hung by my ear, the distant sound of Chopin covering the drafty whispers of the castle halls.

“Hey...Shu?”

“mhm”

“Why were you in your father’s study?” I felt Shu’s sigh before I heard it, his face hidden from view as he held me to his chest.

“Don’t concern yourself with silly things woman, just go to sleep.”

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I woke to a cold side of the bed and the ringing of a bell just outside. Scanning the room, it was clear Shu had vanished some time ago, the ringing continuing incessantly. Calling out, I’m greeted by the voice of a woman.

“Excuse me ma’am, may we enter? We have your breakfast and instruction to prepare you for the ball.” Swinging my legs off the bed and opening the door I welcome the maids inside. A tray is placed atop the ornate vanity sitting in the moonlight streaming through the tall, ornate windows. The concoction somewhat resembling toast and oatmeal wasn’t the worst food I’d eaten but it was glaringly clear the chefs had no idea what foods from the demon realm were safe for me to eat. Around me the maids were setting up a range of tools and products, garment bags hung from a set of hooks nearby, and jewellery boxes were neatly stacked on a table. I could hear water being ran in the connected ensuite, filling the claw foot tub. It was raining outside, the subtle patter against the windowpanes a shallow comfort, my mind swinging between Shu’s distant behaviour and the ball ahead. The ball was surely going to be a trial; barely concealed distain from the vampires in attendance, dances so stiff and strictly rehearsed with a misstep being a point of mockery, and the fact I’ll be put in a plainer uncomfortable dress and told to stay to myself and far away from Shu. The same Shu who was here one minute and gone the next, he hadn’t been like this since solidifying your relationship and especially not before a ball he was going to have to spend apart from me.

“Ma’am we’re ready for you.”

Snapped out of my thoughts, the tap no longer running and the scent of roses wafting through the air. Thus, began over an hour of scrubbing and styling, a long bath where every inch of me was cleaned thoroughly. My skincare and other routines followed and improved upon by a team of servants. Leading to now, as I stood in front of a mirror as a sparkling blue gown was tightened and adjusted. It was beautiful, royal blue cascading down, flattering me perfectly. Sleeves of blue lace with golden flowers, and a neckline coming together with a brooch of the Sakamaki crest. It was unlike anything I had ever been dressed in before.

“Are...are you sure this is meant to be mine? I don’t normally get put in this stuff...” my voice was quiet almost scared to acknowledge the image in front of me. As if another person seeing me would wake me up to some plain black dress like I expected.

“Of course, ma’am, the Crown Prince himself requested it. The tailor was thrilled to be able to design it for you.” The woman barely looked up, opening boxes and laying them out. She held up a sapphire necklace, laying it against me.

“This was the late Queen’s ma’am; do you think it suits the dress-”

“No!” I blurt out without thinking. “I mean, I think Shu would prefer something different. He probably has seen it plenty.” The woman has a knowing look in her eye, nodding ever so slightly and quickly moving away a number of boxes. A silver moon caught my eye, a small crescent with a sapphire pendant hanging in its open space. Lifting it from the box I let it hang in the light.

“A wonderful choice ma’am, it’s part of a matching set. Shall I fetch the matching earrings and tiara?”

“Tiara?” My questioning tone goes unanswered, as the woman collects two more boxes clasping the necklace and slipping on the earrings. Finally, a sparkling tiara is placed on my head, each silver peak flanked by phases of the moon.

“I really think this might be a mistake; I’m meant to blend in...I’m definitely not meant to be wearing a tiara.” The maid looked at me confused. But before she could speak a knock on the door interrupted. Slowly opening, Shu stepped inside. He was dressed in a blue suit, the golden tassels of his epaulettes further broadening his shoulders. A crown sat on his head, golden and proud. Reaching up with sharp, ray like peaks resembling sunbeams. His normal white gloves missing and in its place a signet ring matching the crest currently sat at my bust. He stood still as the servants bowed and made their exit, once gone he nodded to someone outside before closing the door. Walking toward me, I wrung my hands together anxiety gnawing at my stomach.

“Shu, what’s happening.” My concern evident as the absurdity of the situation settled on me further and further. However, he didn’t respond instead lifting my hand in his. He gestured for me to step down from the tailor’s step riser used to make final adjustments to the gown. Walking me over to the windows he pulled open the curtain ever so slightly, peaking out before prompting me to follow. Outside guests were streaming into the atrium across the courtyard, however a group of people dressed in suits with notepads and cameras stood gathered on the courtside nearest to the window. Journalists? Most likely trying to get pictures of Shu, but this side of the castle is for guests not family. A man pointed suddenly, shouting something while raising a camera before a barrage of flashes assaulted my eyes. Pulling away the curtains sway shut once more, doing little to dim the shouting. Shu chuckled, moving his hand to settle on my waist.

“You’re not doing a good job being discrete, as should be expected though. If you were subtle, I would be listening to Bach instead of stuck here about to be forced through a ball.” His comment had me pouting, and increasingly irked by the lack of answers to the situation unfolding.

“Shu, you’d still be here I didn’t force you to go I don’t exactly enjoy these either. More importantly why are they outside my room and why am I dressed like this.” My finger poked his chest in punctuation, exasperation filled me. Only to once again be greeted with Shu’s laughter as his hand wrapped around my wrist to pull me even closer still. Leaning down he whispered.

“We’re only here because of you, the October full moon festival is a glorified carnival I’m meant to sit and watch later this week. This ball is for you and me alone. A fact you made abundantly clear by wearing that,” he taps the centre moon on the tiara, pulling back to look me in the eye as he continues, “A tiara made to match my crown. I have to say I expected you to be less bold, generally our wedding would be where you debut yourself in the future Queen’s set.” A blush rose to my cheeks, hands quickly raising to lift the suddenly heavy metal off my head. Shu’s hands reached up to stop me.

“Shu! I didn’t know, they tried to put me in your mother’s stuff. I’ll take it off nobody told me.” My whispers sounding far shriller than I would prefer.

“Nobody told you because it was part of the collection put together of options for you, by me. I had a feeling it would catch your eye; I didn’t think they would have put it on you without reason. But the only reason you’re wearing it is because you don’t want to wear her things, not because you like it?” He teased, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into my wrist flustering me further.

“I mean of course I like it, it’s pretty...but I don’t want to wear her things. It feels like a bad luck charm to wear that. Why is the ball for us though? Why did you choose my dress and jewellery, this all feels like a lot more effort than you’re known for.” Staring up at him, I see his gaze soften as his eyes slowly move taking in my appearance.

“You have had to watch irritating dull women attempt to steal me away countless times, and have never gotten to dance or wear something that actually suits you. So, I’m fixing it, it’s a bother... but it’s one I’m ok with this once. You’re going to enter with me, announced as my choice. This ball is to celebrate me choosing a future Queen.” His pointer finger and thumb play with the tiara, adjusting it slightly.

“I feel a bit like I’m way too dressed up, I don’t know if it suits me, I look like a princess from some fairytale.” Looking down at the dress in disbelief.

“You are a princess.”

“What.” The face I pulled was evidently the most hilarious thing Shu had seen, he actually laughed at last. He mocked a bow with his head, lifting his hand held out to me palm up.

“We are about to enter the ballroom, after him, announced together, and you will be anointed a princess. Then we’ll be stuck there for hours receiving congratulations and presents. Probably will be stuck dancing. Really, we should just leave now avoid the bother all together.” Shu said all of this so nonchalantly, and you didn’t doubt he would have you both leaving as soon as possible.

“No, I think we can manage. Just stay close, ok?” His hand wrapped back around my waist, turning us away from the windows and starting towards the door.

“I’ll be with you the entire night; it would be a pain to have to deal with someone stealing you away.”

I didn’t notice how the curtains had been pulled apart as he turned. To focused on my prince to see the photos being taken of the two of you walking away beginning your walk to the Royal balcony.

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The night so far had mostly been a blur. From the second the doors opened everything felt as if it was in slow motion and being fast forwarded at the same time. It began with our entry with every vampire family of note watching the two of us descend the stairs of the royal entrance. There were certainly some glares as we were announced, which only worsened when Shu’s father approached happily asking for a dance later in the night. However, with Shu virtually glued to my side and no clear reason for him to leave there wasn’t room for it to go further. Up until this point we had mostly been greeting guests and sampling food, but the music had begun picking up and Karl Heinz was approaching.

“I think it is time we have our dance, no?” His smile elusive as always, the man was unsettling there was no way around it. Shu’s hand didn’t move from my waist, if anything it tightened.

“I’m pretty sure the first dance is meant to be mine.” The man only chuckled in response, lifting his hand up making it obvious that unless Shu was about to make a scene there was no avoiding this. Reluctantly taking his hand we moved towards the centre of the room as the space cleared. A basic waltz began as we stayed silent. Nobody else was dancing either, so I had been left with someone I had only ever been told was incredibly dangerous. While desperately avoiding eye contact, I hear him start to speak.

“I won’t take too much of your time, your first dance is important after all.” He spins me out gently before continuing, “however, I feel I must thank you.”

“Thank...me?” I replied incredulously, he chuckled at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was looking at me like I knew something, as though I was a valuable ally or enemy.

“The boy is now becoming a man, something I have failed at while you succeeded Miss Eve. I do hope your relationship is long and prosperous, Eden needs a strong successor.” He stopped suddenly, bowing to kiss my hand. “I hope you can appreciate your role in this.” He straightened and turned towards an approaching Shu, passing my hand to his. Sharing tense pleasantries before he walked away, likely to mingle with his advisors. Shu took his place in front of me, the music changing to something more melodic and slower.

“What did he say to you?” Pulling me closer as we gently fell into step. The lights around us dimming.

“He thanked me.” I couldn’t help but think how undeserving of thanks I was, Shu was bound to behave when he found someone he wanted to behave for. The fact that was me wasn’t special, and I didn’t tell him to do any of this. Yet here I stood in a dress fit for a princess, which I now apparently am. Surrounded by noble vampires while being the same species they prey upon, dancing with one of the strongest vampires who was also a prince and also somehow mine. Moonlight was streaming down from above, bathing us as those around us faded into shadows. The jewels in his crown sparkled, mine likely matching. His eyes focused on mine as we turn, spin, and dip through the steps taught to me months ago.

“So, the old man messed with the planned dance just to thank you and steal the spotlight, typical.” He rolled his eyes, hidden somewhat by his curls. Reaching up I brush them away, slowing, his eyes locked on mine. The light around beginning to change, a subtle reddish pink replacing the silvery beams. Whispers began but I could barely hear them while in the moment.

“You don’t know about this moon, do you? I don’t know why I would expect any different you are a simple woman,” he spoke to himself as the light slowly intensifies as the music grows gentler. “When an heir finds a match, there’s a special moon which has a much stronger effect on them. If they’re in Eden they’re bathed in red light, some people say its to show support for the match, that’s a ridiculous wife tale, however. The truth is that it makes the bond between them stronger physically.” His fingers lace with mine before he continued quietly. His voice a melodic hum able to sooth my soul in a way that is equal parts scary and comforting.

“I feel your presence, your scent, you blood more than before. You must as well, even if you aren’t able to pinpoint it like I can. I won’t let you escape from now on, and nothing will take you from me.” The sentiment fills me with a warmth, and I can’t seem to wipe the grin off my face.

“Good, you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.” Smiling back at me, the only thing in his eyes I can see is me, in full radiant focus.

#diabolik lovers #shu sakamaki #shu sakamaki x reader #bloody gift exchange #diabolik boys

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 2 months ago

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🎶You had me at hello🎶 (if I used this one before, no I didn’t).

Hello! It’s 💛! And before I go any further I would like to apologize for breaking the TØP streak that you were on (even though you absolutely KILLLED the Party Poison story! It was exactly what I imagined it would be!). I had the idea in my mind and I just wanted to see it come to life in someway so I appreciate you doing it. Also, that Josh Dun story you did the same day, so cute! ☺️

To nobody’s big surprise, or maybe to your chagrin, I am falling back into the TØP cycle of fanfics with yet another request. You said you were getting a lot of Tyler, but have no fear! This one is Josh (it’s Torchbearer!Josh but…hopefully that’s close enough).

This may be too close to the Keons daughter story idea that you had in mind so if that’s the case just disregard this, but I was wondering if you could do an angsty story about the reader being Nico’s daughter (*gasp*), but she escaped Dema and joined the Banditos. Her and Torchbearer hit it off and become close (I’m imagining romantically but platonic could also work), but she never tells him who her father is. During trip into Dema when he goes to try to help break out some people trapped inside (NATN sorta thing), he finds out the truth. He comes back to the camp and angst ensues (whether or not it ends happily is up to you).

Like I said, I know this may be too close to your other plot idea, but I wanted to request it (also sorry for my yapping).

Daughter Series - Torchbearer + Clancy + Nico!Daughter

Warnings: Swearing and angst

Word Count: 3090

A/N: WELCOME! I do believe I killed this ngl...

PART 2 + PART 3 + Part 4

Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t born in Dema. My mother had me outside of the walls before I was taken inside by my father, and my mom was never seen again. Growing up, that was a story I was forbidden to tell. My father rarely talked about my mom and if I ever asked, he would only say, “She didn’t understand the greater purpose, but I do. You will too, one day.”

For a while, I believed him. How could I not? When you grow up with someone like Nico, your whole world revolves around what they tell you. He was my father, but he was also Dema’s leader, head bishop, the one who enforced the silence, control, and order we citizens were all too familiar with. No one defied Nico, not even his own daughter.

Life in Dema was strict but comfortable. I wasn’t treated like everyone else. My father made sure of that. I lived in one of the best apartments, with guards who kept a constant watch over me. In the evenings, I would look out from the balcony and watch the city below—lifeless, colorless, and silent. The people moved like shadows. It felt wrong but I couldn’t put my feelings into words. It was like a quiet voice that echoed in the back of my mind, begging me to see beyond the walls. That voice grew louder as I got older, especially when I overheard whispers of resistance. Stories about people who escaped. The transcripts of the Banditos were forbidden, but I found ways to read them. They described a world outside Dema, a world full of music, color, and freedom. I imagined it often—what it would feel like to run without fear, to laugh without looking over your shoulder.

For years, I buried that desire, letting my father’s teachings drown out the voice of rebellion inside me. He would tell me, “You are my legacy. Dema’s future. You don’t need anything else.” And I believed him—until the day I didn’t. I don’t exactly remember when I decided to leave. Maybe it was a slow realization, a growing awareness that I couldn’t stay in Dema–I couldn’t live like this. Or maybe it was the night I saw him–a Bandito. He had this bright yellow bandana tied around his head that covered his face and was sprinting across the city. His eyes were filled with fire, determination, and a passion I’d never felt before. Several citizens left that night and the next morning there were almost double the amount of glorious gone lined up.

After that I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling, the walls of my apartment feeling tighter and tighter, as if they were closing in on me. I thought about the stories I had heard, the people who had escaped. For the first time, I wanted to know what it felt like. The voice in my head—the one I had tried so hard to suppress—was louder than ever.

I don’t know how I did it. Nico’s daughter wasn’t supposed to slip away unnoticed, but somehow I did. Maybe my father had gotten too comfortable. Maybe I wasn’t as much of a priority as he liked to pretend. It didn’t matter.

I ran.

The night I left Dema was the most terrifying night of my life. Every shadow felt like it could be a bishop or vulture watching, every step against the cobblestone ground echoed in my mind as if the entire city could hear me. But I didn’t stop until I got out of the catacombs. I couldn’t.

The Banditos found me the next morning, huddled in an abandoned building outside Dema’s reach. They took me in, gave me water, food, and shelter. They didn’t ask who I was right away, which was a relief. I didn’t want to tell them. Not yet. Not while Nico’s name was a curse on their lips.

I never expected to feel so at home among them, especially with him.

Torchbearer was everything Dema taught me to fear—brave, reckless, defiant. He radiated life in a way that was foreign to me, and yet, I couldn’t stay away from him. We met the night I arrived at camp. He approached me cautiously at first, well aware that most escapees were either violent or runners in their first few days.

But I wasn’t like most escapees.

He asked me my name, and I hesitated, not wanting to give my real name.

“Just call me…” I hesitated, not wanting to give him my real name. “Call me Ash.”

“That’s not your real name is it?” his head tilted and eyebrows raised slightly as he took a bite of the bread roll someone had brought through camp.

“Nope,” I chuckled below my breath, “But something tells me your name isn’t Torchbearer.” He laughed and shook his head. The Torchbearer was the kind of person who knew when not to ask questions, something I was thankful for.

As the months passed, we became close. Closer than I expected, closer than I thought I would let anyone get. At first, it was a hesitant friendship, both of us hearing each other out. We talked about the rebellion, we talked about vialism, and he talked about Dema. Over time, we became inseparable. I loved him. He showed me what it meant to live—truly live—outside the grasp of Dema’s cold, suffocating control. He showed me what it meant to have fun, to laugh, to joke, and to fight back.

And through it all, I kept my secret. I managed to keep him at arm’s length, no matter how much I wanted to let him in. Because how could I? How could I tell him that I was Nico’s daughter—the daughter of the man who had destroyed lives, stolen freedom, and enforced misery?

So I didn’t.

The guilt gnawed at me. Every time Torchbearer looked at me with those fiery eyes, filled with admiration and trust, I felt the weight of my life settle deeper into my chest. The longer I stayed with the Banditos, the more I realized I wasn’t just lying to Torchbearer. I was lying to everyone.

That was until my first raid. Each month Torchbearer and a few select Banditos would sneak into Dema to pick up escapees and add to the rebellion and after 10 months of being in Trench, Torchbearer had asked me to come. We all knew it was a risk, but as Dema reminded us–we had no choice. The mission was simple: get in and get out. We were the best at what we did. The Banditos had been in and out of Dema before, but this time felt different. This time, the stakes were higher. I was there. Torchbearer grabbed one of his yellow bandanas to tie around my arm so he could find me.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go back?” he asked, his fingers flowing perfectly to secure the knot. The hesitancy in his voice was mirrored by the look on his face.

“It’s going to be okay Torch,” I smiled shyly, cupping his jaw and pressing my lips against him. He returned the kiss by his lips were shy, mind clearly elsewhere.

“It’s difficult to go back, Ash. I just–I don’t want to lose you and I’m worried that you’re not ready for a mission this high stakes,” he pressed his forehead against mine, his fingers tangling through my hair.

“I am ready. I want to go,” I insisted, the fear of the truth bubbling over.

“Okay,” he raised his arms in defeat, “if you say you’re ready then I believe you.” Torchbearer pulled me in close, his chin resting on the top of my head while my face pressed against his chest. I was ready. I really was ready.

Torchbearer led the charge, his eyes gleaming with determination. The night we infiltrated Dema, the city was as lifeless as I remembered. The silence was deafening. I hadn’t been back since I left, and the familiar streets, the cold concrete walls, sent a shiver down my spine. Memories flooded back—of my father, of the life I had left behind.

Torchbearer stayed close to me. He didn’t know the real reason for my tension, and I wasn’t about to explain it now. I needed to focus.

We split up to cover more ground. My heart pounded as I ran through the darkened alleys, sticking to the shadows. I found the building where they were keeping the prisoners and signaled to the others. Everything was going smoothly until I heard footsteps behind me.

I spun around, heart leaping into my throat. My hand hovered over my weapon, ready to fight, but when I saw who was standing there, the air was knocked out of me.

It was him.

Dad.

He stood there, calm, composed, his pale eyes locking onto mine like a hunter sizing up his prey. His presence made the air around us feel heavy, suffocating, like the very essence of Dema was crushing me.

“I knew you’d come back,” he said softly, his voice as smooth and cold as I remembered. “You couldn’t stay away forever.”

My heart hammered in my chest as I struggled to breathe. My mind raced, trying to come up with some kind of explanation, some excuse for why I was here. But what could I possibly say?

“Dad,” I whispered, my voice betraying me with a tremble.

He tilted his head, regarding me with the same detached curiosity he always had. Clothes in his traditional blood red robes there was no anger in his eyes, no surprise—just cold, calculating control. He stepped closer, and instinctively, I backed away.

“You left,” he continued, as if we were having a casual conversation over tea. “I wondered how long it would take for you to see reason. To realize your place was always here, by my side. With us.”

I felt like I was drowning. My pulse raced, my thoughts tangling together in panic. How had he found me so quickly? I wasn’t supposed to run into anyone—especially not him.

“I didn’t…” My voice faltered as I glanced around, searching for an escape. But there was none. “I didn’t come back for you. I’m here for them.”

Nico’s gaze sharpened. His cold smile never wavered. “Is that what they told you? That you’re here to ‘rescue’ our people? To ‘save’ them from our sacred religion?”

He took another step toward me, his eyes boring into mine. “You are my daughter. Our city’s future. There is no ‘saving’. There is only the Order. You belong with us.”

“No,” I said, my voice firmer this time. I took a deep breath, standing my ground. “I don’t belong here. Not anymore.”

For a moment, Nico was silent, his eyes narrowing as if he were studying me, calculating his next move. Then, his smile faded, replaced by something far more dangerous—disappointment.

“You are mistaken,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that made my skin crawl. “You think you’ve escaped Dema, but you never left. You are still tied to this place. You always will be.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “I chose to leave. I chose a different life. I’m not your puppet anymore.”

Nico’s expression darkened. “Is that what you think? That you can just walk away from your legacy? You are my blood. You will come back to me.”

“No,” I said, the word feeling like a dagger in my throat. “I won’t.”

His eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place—anger, maybe, or something deeper, something darker. He took another step toward me, and for a second, I thought he might reach out and drag me back to our tower by force.

But instead, he stopped, his voice growing quieter, more insidious. “If you leave now, if you continue this path, you are lost to me. And when Dema rises—when the time comes—no one will be able to save you from what’s coming.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. His words were like poison, seeping into my mind, but I pushed them away.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

Nico laughed, but this time, it was colder, emptier. “Yes, you are. You always have been.”

Before I could say anything else, I heard footsteps. Nico’s eyes flickered toward the sound, and for a brief moment, something like recognition crossed his face. He knew. He knew we weren’t alone.

“We’ll meet again, daughter,” he said quietly, pulling me in for a forceful hug. His arms wrapped around me like a vice, sending a chill down my spine. I could feel the weight of his authority, his control, pressing down on me as he whispered in my ear, his breath cold and steady. “You may try to escape your fate, but it will find you,” he murmured, his voice low and insidious. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pressed his cracked lips to my cheek—a twisted mockery of affection.

I wanted to push him away, to shove him back and break free, but I was frozen in fear, trapped in that moment. It was only when he finally released me, vanishing into the shadows, that I could breathe again. My heart was pounding, my hands shaking, and the air around me felt thick, suffocating.

But before I could even collect myself, I heard something—a gasp. My eyes shot up, and there, standing just a few feet away, was Torchbearer.

His face was pale, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He had seen everything.

“Torch—” I started, stepping toward him, but he took a step back, his expression hardening. The raw hurt in his eyes cut me deeper than any weapon could.

“Is that—” His voice faltered, then came out sharper, more accusatory. “That was him, wasn’t it? Blurryface.”

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. My mind was racing, trying to find a way to explain, but what could I possibly say? Torchbearer had seen me in my father’s arms—Nico, the head of Dema, the enemy of everything we fought for. The truth was out.

“I-I can explain,” I stammered, my voice weak and trembling.

Torchbearer’s eyes were cold, his expression unreadable. “You lied to me.” His words were barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken accusations.

“I didn’t—” I tried, but he cut me off.

“All this time… you knew. You knew, and you said nothing.” His voice rose, trembling with anger and betrayal. “We trusted you, Ash. I trusted you. And you… you’re his fucking daughter?”

The words stung, each one like a slap to the face. I took a step closer, desperate to make him understand, but he only backed away further, shaking his head.

“I’m not him,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m not my dad. I left Dema. I chose to leave. I chose to be in Trench with you.”

Torchbearer’s face twisted with anger. “But you never told us! You lied about who you are—about everything. You let us believe… You let me believe…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I whispered, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. “I was scared. I thought if you knew—if you knew the truth—you’d look at me like this. Like I was him.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to look at you, Ash?” Torchbearer snapped, his voice cutting like a knife. “You’re his daughter! You’re part of this. You’re not you anymore.”

“I was part of it, yeah,” I said quickly, pleading. “But I’m not anymore. I left. I left him, I left this city, I left my home.”

“But you didn’t leave it behind, did you?” Torchbearer’s voice was cold, filled with bitterness. “You didn’t tell us the truth, and now… I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

I felt the ground slipping out from beneath me. “Torch, please. I’m still me. I’m still the same person.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice broke, and for a moment, the anger in his eyes softened into something else—something like pain. “I thought I knew you. I thought I could trust you. But you’ve been hiding this the whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought… I thought I could just be part of this life, without bringing my past into it.”

Torchbearer let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how it works. You can’t just pretend like your past doesn’t exist, Ash. You can’t just hide who you are and expect it to never come out.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I never wanted this. I never wanted you to find out like this.”

Torchbearer shook his head, his expression filled with disappointment. “It doesn’t matter. The damage is done.”

He turned to leave, but I lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “Please. Don’t walk away. Don’t—I love you.”

He hesitated, but he didn’t pull his arm away. For a moment, hope flickered in my chest, but when he finally spoke, his voice was cold and final.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Ash.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I let go of his arm, the weight of everything crashing down on me.

Torchbearer took one last look at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and something else—something that made my heart ache even more.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving me standing alone in the empty street, tears streaming down my face, my heart shattered.

“Y/N,” my father’s friend’s voice echoed through the street. Keons. The bishop I’d often found myself speaking to when I still lived here. He was one of the only leaders in this city who cared–or at least created the illusion that he cared–about citizens, especially those from his district. “You should come with me.”

“Why would I go with you?” I asked, my arms folded across my chest.

“You left the city, right?”

I nodded.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. A boy from my district, he reminds me of you and I believe together you could do some good for our city,” he explained.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said.

“I assure you, you are not in any danger Y/N. This boy, he’s different from the other citizens,” he continued.

“What’s his name?”

“Clancy.”

REQUESTS OPEN

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tanzdoesthings · 9 months ago

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Fresh Air

this is for an au in collaboration with with @mothsakura and also i believe @ardienothesieno has some input as well? either way they’re both great and fun to talk ideas with. baseline info you need is that iterators walk in their cities, with massive facilities underneath the ground level. also some details on fathoms’ ID is not actually settled now, but the writing is what matters anyways lmao.

The heavy door closes behind Fathoms, quietly as to not draw attention to the fact that the person being celebrated at the gala was suddenly absent from the event. She takes a breath of the fresh air, cooling her systems and letting it out as a sigh, shoulders lowering as she let the uptight posture fade away. The nice thing about having such a large event is that she wasn't expected to be working much at all over the next two cycles. Less pleasant is the constant talking, touching, and interacting she must do with her citizens and other councils. They all want to know why she's so special, how she can do everything, what does it feel like to be so perfect? Those questions, she lets her council answer. Fathoms can't give the answer they want, and all this sensory input is making her overwhelmed. So much data, and she's too far from her neurons to process properly. Therefore, she quietly let herself out.

She was not expecting another iterator to be there, One that she does not recognize. They are sitting near a patch of greenery, picking at the rocks lining the plants. It is clear this iterator did not hear Fathoms walk out, so she tries to catch their attention. "Hello?" Fathoms asks, standing a few paces away.

"Oh- hello?" the stranger answers, turning to look at her. They have a handful of pebbles, clearly picking through the pile to find... something. "You're an iterator! I heard there was supposed to be a lot of them around tonight!" They stand, bringing the assortment of stones to Fathoms. Now that they're standing, she has a much better view of them. They stand just a bit shorter than her, antennas a similar length, though tilted back and decorated with an assortment of little stones and sparkly things. They wore a caplet over a robe, rather standard and simple for iterators. Certainly not an outfit for a gala, and they looked like a river stone compared to her bright pinkish-red hues and sparkling white pearls.

"Look-" they continued talking, "The pebbles here are very nice! See the stripes?"

She had noticed, in the times she had taken breaks out here. She always notices. "Yes, they are quite nice." Fathoms says, looking over the ones they had picked out.

They grab one particularly round one, holding it up. It seems that this is when they truly notice what she looks like. "Woah!" they gasp, dropping the stone. "You are really dressed up! Is it for that meeting-thing? My current admin was all shiny today too."

"Yes, there is a gala tonight. It's very noisy in there, I must admit. Why aren't you attending?" she says gently, hands folded in front of her.

They wave their hand, shaking their head at the same time. "I'm not exactly supposed to be out of the train. It's okay!"

Fathoms was taken aback by this information, but kept moving along. "What's your name? I'm Fathoms of Dreams, she/her. 489."

"Woah-! We're really close in number! I'm 492!" They exclaim, bouncing a little. "They/them, no name yet!"

She tilts her head. "No name? We're so close in age, how do you not have a name yet?"

The nameless iterator shrugs, keeping their demeanor the same. "I keep going from council to council. Nobody has taken care of me long enough to get a name, you know?”

It's a tragedy to Fathoms, but she doesn't voice this concern. Instead, she offers a hand to them, and leads them to a bench. The two sit, overlooking Fathoms' city. The council house is atop a hill, whereas the rest of the city slopes down what was once a lake, now reduced by a large amount to the center of rows and rows of buildings. The lights on each block sparkle in the night, and by the sounds of it, the whole city is using the gala as an excuse to party. The nameless one gasps in awe, sitting and swinging their legs next to Fathoms.

They deserve something nice, Fathoms thinks. She pulls off one of the bracelets given to her for the gala, a simpler one, made with a string running through a pale pink pearl. When she brushes her hands against the pearl, she gets a brief glimpse of the data written to it, around the holes drilled for the string. It's a prayer of well being, rather standard. She taps her new friend's hand, and they perk up, looking at her. Delicately, she takes their hand, slipping the bracelet on. The nameless one beams, as if Fathoms had just moved the whole world for them. Her eyes crinkle in a smile, watching them admire the bracelet.

"Are you serious? You're just giving this to me?" they whisper-shout, one hand on the pearl.

Fathoms nods, and they practically leap to hug her. She breathes in sharply, and this reaction immediately makes them loosen their grip, looking at her. "It's okay- I'm fine, just wasn't expecting... that," she reassures them.

They shift to instead lean against her, watching the city and running their fingers on the pearl. "I'll get you the best gift ever. I'm the greatest at that!"

"I'm sure. You had a good eye for those stones, you know?"

They nod, excitedly, with so much more energy than Fathoms has ever had. A moment of watching the city, and then they speak again. "Why are you at that big meeting anyways?"

That snaps Fathoms back into the reality of her situation. "It's a celebration. The city we are in is celebrating their iterator and the technological progress," she states.

"Wow. Did you meet them? A party so big must be for someone really interesting!"

Her hands grab the fabric of her dress, silky between her bio-mechanical fingers. "It's... for me." The other iterator stares at her with wide eyes, but she continues. "I'm very experimental. I can process very fast, but there are issues. There's a team of mechanics on hand 24/7 in my memory arrays and main bus, making sure my structure doesn't collapse. The whole city is on top of it. The day it does give up... won't be pretty."

"How can there be a party when there's so many problems to fix?" they ask, watching Fathoms.

"Politics, I suppose. I look finished, therefore I am." A pale pink, nearly white overseer darts up to the two, and at the sight of it Fathoms sits up straight, gripping her dress more tightly. They notice, glancing down to look at it. Her breathing sharpens, and she stands up quickly. They shuffle, following her movements.

"You need to leave, go back to your train. Now," she whispers, pushing the nameless one back towards the way they came from. "Follow this overseer."

Thank the void, the unnamed iterator follows her instructions, disappearing around a corner. She only has a moment to smooth her dress before another iterator walks up behind her.

"Fathoms." She knows that voice. She could never mistake that voice for another. "Leaving your own party now?" She turns, and is greeted by her sibling, Ink Run Dry, leaned against the wall. They tilt their head, not amused with the task at hand. "Get back inside. There's some kind of speech soon. I want a good vantage point, but of course, when you disappear, I'm the person they call. You're always back here. I don't know why it's my problem."

"Yes, of course." Fathoms answers curtly, leading the two back inside, away from the fresh air, from the nameless one, from the momentary peace.

#tanz talks #tanz art #rain world #rain world au #rw iterator oc #oc // fod #other oc // mltt #rw city au

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starreadssstuff · 2 years ago

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I know the end prt 3- Takatora Samura

Warnings: canon violence, blood, bruising, angst (future parts) g*ns, Niragi (nothing bad will happen, in this fic or any), angst LMK if I missed anything!!

Authors Note - I finally got around to part three YAY!!! im so happy that I got to it. I will update “clingy” when I get the chance but if you have anything that you want to see in that fic or this one let me know!! love, star 💜

Since the beginning of the borderlands, it was the constant fighting for your life, it was triggering but you met people you liked along the way that made this mess a bit easier. What never go easier was the nightmares evey night. They were constant,waking up in the normal world and get ready in your empty apartment. You exit the house to see its night time and you see the billboards showing you to the direction of a game. At first you think is harmless so you joining “whats the worst that could happen?” But as you enter the game you find yourself trapped in a never-ending maze of mirrors. At first, it seemed like a harmless funhouse, but as you wander deeper into the maze, you realize that the mirrors are reflecting versions of yourself that are not quite right. Some are distorted and twisted, while others are cold and lifeless. The longer you stay in the maze, the more the mirrors seem to close in around you, trapping you in a never-ending cycle of distorted reflections. You begin to feel like you're losing your mind, unable to distinguish reality from the reflections. The only way to escape is to find the one true reflection of yourself, but with each wrong turn, the chances of finding it seem to slip further and further away. You finally find the right one and the exit is opened up infornt of you. You still feel like youre losing you mind, not really ready for that mindboggling experience. You run out and see a table in the complex you had entered, this table had a small receipt printer that had printed out a paper with Y/N L/N on it an an “exparation” date on it. Its weird and you dont know what type of game this is but you need to get out. It's safe to say that you didn't, and still haven't gotten out.

All that said, you found your now best friend, lily, and have been shown around the “borderlands” as she calls it. It was weird at first but you get used to it after a while. At the beach you were like a fish out of water, iconic but true nonetheless. You didnt know anyone and everyone seam to think you were a target. When you came around they all scatterd like emptied seashells on the sand. It was worrying and you didnt know why, you had been there for a week and hadnt played any games so what was the fuss? No one seamed to be like that around lily so what had everybodys panties in a twist? It was tring until you found out why. This had all happened because of him. He had threatened every one to stay away from you. Why? What was the reason? Did he hate you that much? He didnt even speak to you so why did he care about who you acquainted yourself with? If he needed to say something to you then why not handle it like the grown man that he is. As you march up to him lily is tring to get you attention to stop you, youre resisting like hell, determined to get an answer. “We need to speak Last Boss” you say to him, in a stern yet polite way. He agev you a questioning look like if he didint know what had happened. You walk away but hear him follow you. Everyone parts open a way for you and him to walk through because nobody had ever heard anyone speak to THE LAST BOSS like that before so it was a miracle that you weren't sliced in half already.

“Are you the one that has been threatening people to stay away from me?” you say as soon as you get onto the roof top. He slowly nods, not really used to being treated like this, he wasnt going to hurt you by any means. He just wanted to keep you safe so he did what he did.

P.S sorry for the cliffhanger! stick around and find out what happens next in ~I know the end~ Takatora Samura

#takatora samura #aib #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland #i love himmmm #my husband #alice in borderland season 2

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bumxxbee · 10 months ago

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Show Up For Yourself

I’ve always valued independence. As humans, we naturally depend on those close to us, even if it’s just someone we’ve briefly interacted with. The saying ‘no man is an island’ holds true — we can’t stand alone. Yet, there are times when the weight of constant dependence feels overwhelming, and I find myself yearning for a way to break free from it.

Wishing there was some way to do so.

Growing up, I naturally relied on the adults around me – a typical aspect of childhood when the world beyond your home is still a mystery. However, the individuals I chose to look up to or depend on consistently let me down. Despite my efforts to be more understanding and patient, promises were made only to be taken back. I used to think, 'Give them some slack, right?' But over time, I realized that this mindset led me to become overly accommodating, with no boundaries. I forgave and dismissed, offering excuses like forgetfulness or busyness. I didn't mind it at first, until it became a recurring pattern, and my feelings were consistently overlooked. It was a heartbreaking realization, one that happened repeatedly.

I keep hoping that one day someone would show up for me. And as my disappointment grew, so did the walls I had relecntantly built. That's when I realized, why do I bother? Why do I allow myself these disappointments? These heartbreaks? When I could do it for myself. I can show up for myself. You can show up for yourself. Take yourself on dates, maybe go exploring new hobbies and activities. Create boundaries, respect yourself to walk away when you know someone is not matching your energy. Create a healthy lifestyle for yourself. Comfort yourself, doing the things you love. You can rely on yourself to never do what was done to you, you could choose not to do the same to the people you will meet in the future. You could break the cycle. It wouldn’t reach everyone, but it would reach someone. And that alone can make a difference. Show up for yourself. Care for yourself. Love yourself. Because at the end of the day, who will? Who can you truly rely on to never disappoint you?

If you have an answer to that question, then I envy you. But if you don’t, then maybe it’s time you look at yourself in the mirror and be the person you needed when nobody else was there.

#beesdiary #diaryentry #sadgirl #randomthoughts #creative writing #blog posts #beesentry #show up for yourself #love yourself #selflove

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buildingthegrandtour · 1 year ago

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Red Berries

I only wanted to know where I came from.

I don’t know how long i’ve been immured. i don’t die. Or rather, I die many times, but it doesn’t stick. Each time I go down, I dream of a time in my life before falling into the abyss of nothingness, only to come back and do this all again.

This last time I went back to the first memory I ever created. I was small, the world endless streams of new information. New scents, sights, sounds, running through my little brain. They were difficult to grasp. I was being carried away swiftly, the rough rocking of feet pounding on ground as swayed to and fro. There was yelling behind me and whoever had me cradled in their arms. I was not experienced enough in this world to understand what was being said.

It’s like a dream, it fades away without much detail sticking to itself in my mind. There’s no telling what I’ll retain. Some things fade upon taking my umpteenth first breath, others stay with me through several lifetimes.

I have heard languages evolve on the other side of the wooden walls of the Rowan Tree. Heard stories told in snippets of many faceless strangers, their voices echoing through every day, or on random days, sometimes in consecutive days. Then I die once more, a new life begins, the dream of the old death fades away.

It’s an endless cycle that feels like perpetually moving backwards.

How long the lives last feels the same as well. Sometimes it seems longer in the heat, shorter in the cold. Never long enough, sometimes too long.

Today begins with a young man and a young woman speaking to each other. He speaks to her of stars, and she returns with mythology. They become quiet for a second, then she says:

“Kiss me again.”

Ah, kiss. That was a different memory. Fleeting but persistent.

He lays his body down at my feet. I scoot in to put my feet on his side. He shifts to touch my leg, caressing it gently in circular motions. He wore blue and black, his blue eyes concentrating on my face, looking me in the eye when i wasn’t turning away to hide. il etait tellement mignon.

“Come closer,” I told him, in a language so old nobody knows it anymore.

He sat up, his eyes fixed on mine as he crawled to lie down next to me. His right arm slipped under my back, arched to let it beneath me. I rolled over onto him and put my right arm around his torso, lifting myself up to give him a kiss full on the lips.

The memory breaks from there, then falls back into me lying on my side, him on his back, his face turned to look at me as he gives me a kiss. He turns away, his face flush, then sits up. It’s his turn to hide.

I reach my hand out and trace my first two fingers along the line his spine makes on his skin. He tenses at first, then after a few seconds turns around and lays that perfect body of his on mine. He places his lips on mine and i part them to let in his tongue. His arms slip beneath mine, and I put mine around his neck.

It tastes so sweet. I still remember it even after so much time.

But then the memory stops again, and comes back to us naked, him laying his head on my breast, my left arm wrapped around him while my right hand traced the lining of his lips, parting to taste my fingertips.

The memory fades again, and comes back to me saying goodbye to him as he walks away.

I loathe these memories with large chunks of my life erased. It frightens me to skip through time like that, never being able to place how I got from one point to the next. Incomplete.

I shift to get a better look through the cracks where the stacked branches of the Rowan Tree meet. This is a memory that is going to stay with me for a long time, and these two pawing at each other isn’t helping me. I close my eyes, but then I see his face, flashing from one point to another, clothed and naked, kissing and hiding. Constant replay eyes opened or close.

Got to find a different memory.

A shout breaks me from the cycle.

“Hey you two, we’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Get off each other!”

My eyes fly open with the giggling of the girl, as though the sound was my cue to watch them walk away. The steps are awkward as they try to stay close to each other without tripping.

Not much time has passed at all, but it feels like forever.

The light from the street lamp makes it even more difficult to discern the time. Before electricity I could tell night from day, now it’s all the same. The heat signature gives me a better idea, though that only works in certain seasons. With so many deaths and rebirths, my ability to track that has also fallen away.

I’m guessing it is night, for nobody has come for awhile. Or maybe the last couple that I saw just left a moment ago. It is frustrating to try to keep up with time here.

This is how I live.

How did I get here, you ask? Well, that a story that follows me through every lifetime.

Sometimes I remember my precise motivation, this is a time that it is a blur impossible to read. I met with the village’s wise woman for counsel. She held small, colorful pebbles in her hands. She blew into the small opening between her thumbs, then shook the pebbles. She stopped a bit later, opening her hands to let the pebbles drop to the ground.

She leans over to study the aspects of the pebble falls. Where did they fall? How far from each other? Which are closest to me? Which are closest to her?

She shifts her focus from the pebbles to me and back again, repeating this gesture a few times before leaning back.

“You were taken from your mother at a very young age.”

Suddenly my first memory ever created swells in my head until it is all I can think of. And I realize this is always the memory I wake up from. And what I am recalling now? Always where I end before my breath becomes labored and desperate.

How much of my life did I miss?

I’m pulled into another memory. It is late at night, a cool breeze touches my face. It wakes me from my slumber, and I stir from beneath my blanket made from the pelt of a wild animal that fed my family for a week.

I hear voices coming from the light beyond an opening. I follow the sound to see my parents sitting across from each other, sipping the soup made from the plants outside the cave.

“They are going to find her,” my father said, putting down his bowl. “The tribe says there have been people here looking for someone that matches her description. She does not look like us, people know who she is talking about.”

“Relax,” my mother responded, before taking a sip of the liquid stock. She was quiet as she swallowed, immediately picking up the conversation again when her meal finished its trip down her throat. “Nobody is going to tell.”

“We cannot keep her hidden away forever. She has to go out some time. They may come here and see her themselves.”

Liquid dripped down Mother’s front as she lost the grip on her bowl. She righted herself and put the bowl down, wiping the spill with the back of her hand.

“What do you propose we do?” she asked.

“Travel far from here, and leave her with another tribe. They will take her in.”

Mother took the bowl and stood up. She places the dish in a bigger bowl full of water and rinses it out, shaking it to dry.

“Pack things in the morning, we’ll leave at nightfall tomorrow. Bring weapons for wild animals and enough kindling for a few nights. We don’t know how far the walk to the next tribe is going to be.”

The next night I pretended to sleep while my parents fled from our home, Mother slinging my little baby body over her back as I was just learning to walk and could not do it well nor could I do it quickly.

After the third night, Mother was tired of walking. She put me down and walked away in the direction from which we had come.

“It was your idea to kidnap her,” Father mumbled as he took me in his arms and continued the trek.

Not long after, the sun had crept beneath the horizon, leaving the bright white glow of the full moon. Father saw agriculture and tools next to what I would later learn were called huts. Father walked further into the tribe’s roads, and left me at a random door.

“Stay here, and be kind to whoever picks you up,” Father said to me as he swaddled me in my usual blanket. He left food at my side, gave me a peck on the forehead, and left empty-handed.

My thoughts come back to the wise woman, studying me closely.

“Did I ever know my real parents?” I asked her.

Her eyes close and she lets out a sorrowful sigh before answering:

“I’m afraid you were too young to form memories when you were with your real parents,” she answered, her eyes opening on the last word. “But you hear the sound of your mother’s voice every time you recall your first created memory.”

Then the voice comes back again, and I still can’t understand what’s being said as I’m being rocked roughly through the footsteps of my captor running away from whom I now know is my real mother.“

"Can I find her? Is she still alive?” I can feel my eyes getting wider with curiosity, hope surging through my body like a campfire in my veins.

“Yes, she will always be able to be found by you. Though it will not be easy. Find the valley of the sun and in the center take the red berries of the Rowan Tree. Once it has entered your bloodstream you will know the path to find her.”

“Where is this valley?”

How I got from the wise woman’s hut to be standing in front of the Rowan Tree is another part of my life that is missing. I always seem to come back to this part when my breathing begins to speed, knowing that soon the air will run out and I’ll be falling into my death dream.

It is a beautiful tree. Thick, healthy trunk radiating a golden glow from the surrounding light of the sun. It stood majestically at the top of a green hill, a long way to climb, but well worth it for the sight. The red of the berries complemented the bright green of the leaves surrounding them on the healthy branches of the tree.

There seemed to be no shade, no darkness touching this wonder.

I approached the tree slowly, afraid it would disappear if I got too close. It feels like forever passed before I reached the ground where the roots came up and settled beneath the earth. I reached my hands up, my left pulling down a branch as my right plucked berries and stored them in the cup of my palm.

The ground beneath me shook, and the roots came up to form a wall surrounding me. Too late I remember a warning the wise woman had given me.

“Be sure to ask permission from the tree before taking the berries.”

The branches of the tree creating the walls I am immured in always swell the cracks shut, and as I turn my final memory over in my head my breathing slows as the air runs out. I will fall into a new memory before the nothing comes, and start all over again with new memories.

originally posted 9 Jan 2023

#short stories #red berries

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toastedside · 4 years ago

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Call From Home

Tim Drake x Batmom!Reader

Warning: sad Tim Drake, him crying, feeling small, fluff in the end

Note: I always like and entertain the idea that Tim eventually finish his education and go to college. I wrote this back in 2019 when I was away for college and experiencing mild case of homesick. Enjoy!

College life was pretty exciting. At least Tim able to muster that out loud now, and no longer wallowing in constant denial how much he enjoyed being a college student. It does get pretty crazy at times. The chaos in the dorms, the shenanigans of bored college students, morning classes. It got its own rhythm, and Tim was proud that he able to blend and follow the rhythm pretty well.

He never imagined that he eventually able to live a life like this. Like this one. Not after him confronting Batman in his own house. Not after his parents’ death. Not after taking the mantle and split his life into day and night. He never imagined he get to party until late night, laughing his ass off whilst running on the campus ground at night, pulling all night for assignments, and running late to classes.

The Red Robin suit he carefully packed still untouched. Tucked carefully underneath his bed. He never got time to be Red Robin. Not with the piling assignments and constant nudging to socialize. He listened to the police’s radio from his dorm when he was alone from time to time, but in a city like this, it’s pretty calm and mild.

Compared to Gotham, this city is peaceful.

It’s loud, it’s colorful, it’s exciting. Perhaps that’s why he liked the thrill of being here. It reminded him of home. Of Wayne Manor that filled with too many people, too many vigilantes who never know when to lower their voices. And perhaps that’s why he grew relentless and anxious as the clock slowly tick by and it’s all quiet. Darren, his roommate, was gone to his parents for the weekend. Left him all alone with his thought.

Tim sighed as he punched the number on his phone screen. He didn’t know why he did it. But something behind his mind pushed him to do so.

“Hello?” the voice answered after the fifth rang. Tim wanted to smack his head. You were probably sleeping.

“Hi Mom,” Tim greeted. “It’s me.”

“Hi, honey!” your voice laced with a lot of excitement. Tim sat up on his bed, head leaned to the wall next to him as he closed his eyes. “How are you? How do you like college?”

Tim chuckled. “It’s exciting, yeah. The assignments were crazy. But it was fun.”

“It reminds me with my college days! One time, this one student flood the whole floor with detergent because he didn’t know how to wash his own clothes in the washing machine.”

“My God. Just last week a student accidentally pushed the fire alarm because she was drunk.”

Tim could hear you laughing. And then a faint sound of a silverware hitting a surface. You’re in the kitchen then. Or the dining room. There were no background noises and it was all quiet. You were probably alone in the kitchen; dug on the freezer to eat a pint of ice cream you always so cleverly hide from everyone.

“How are you doing, Timmy? You haven’t answered my question.”

Tim went quiet as he bit his lower lip. You often called him Timmy when he was upset or in dire need of comfort. A nickname you reserved for comfort and now his brain associated it with tenderness and comfort. And the warmth of your embrace.

All of sudden, he wanted to cry. His eyes started to sting and his chest heavy. He didn’t know why, but listening to his mother’s voice alone opened up something he had shoved to the back of his mind since the day he moved into his dorm.

“Timmy? Honey?” you called for him. He probably had unconsciously let a sob escaped his mouth. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I miss you,” Tim rasped between his sobs. Saying those out loud only made him want to cry harder. “I miss Alfred. I miss Bruce, Jason, Dick, Damian, Cass…” he trailed, sniffled as he harshly wiped his tears with his sleeve. “I miss home.”

Tim pulled his knees into his chest, curled himself into a ball. He wanted nothing but to sank into your embrace, enjoying the way your fingers would thread on his hair and your nails lightly scratched his scalp. He wanted nothing but to eat a homemade food, not the cheap, knocked off questionable foods he often got on campus.

He wanted home.

“I miss you too, honey,” you cooed. You heaved a sigh as you continued, “The house does get a little quieter without you here.”

“I- I thought I’d be okay. I like it here,” Tim sniffed. “But I miss you. I miss home. And – I want to go home.”

The line went quiet for a little while. He could hear you shuffling in the background, a sound of chair being pushed confirmed his suspicion of you being in the kitchen. He was both surprised and bashful about his sudden childish plea. He never thought he would miss Gotham out of all places. It stinks and raked of criminal. The air here was crisp and clear, he could hear the bird chirping on his way to his classes.

But one call to home and his body longed to be there. One call and his soul wished he was home.

His bed suddenly felt too small and stuffy. The mattress is too stiff and the duvet not warm enough. Tim pressed his head onto his knees, his eyes still producing saline tears as he quietly listened to you contemplating your answer.

“Baby, you know what? It’s okay to miss home. It’s okay for wanting to be home and liking where you are at the same time. I had severe homesick cases when I was away for college too,” you answered finally, with a quiet huff as Tim faintly heard you landed in a cushion. Perhaps the living room.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Tim could listen a smile seeped on your voice. “Listen. You live your life here, in Gotham, for almost all your life. You born and grew up here. You live here in this house. You fight for the city. Of course, you’d miss home. Of course, you’d want to be here.”

Tim sniffed as a response.

“And you’re adapting. Nobody expect you to immediately like where you are. Especially when you’re so far away from home, all alone, all by yourself. You’re starting a new chapter in your life. There will be hard times. But I always know you’re a fighter. And you’ll survive just fine. You can do this.”

Tim smiled as he wiped his tears.

“Besides, I believe your friends suffer the same homesick cases too.”

An involuntary laugh escaped him. He let out a wet chuckle as he wiped his tears with his sleeve again. Eyes spared glances into the empty bed across him. “Yeah. Darren is out visiting his parents’ house. Lucky for him his parents are only two hours away.”

“See? You know what I mean?” Tim practically could see the way your face would scrunch up. An expression he grew fond of. “You’re always welcome to come home anytime, honey. Remember wherever you are, no matter how far, you’re always welcome here whenever.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You know what? This gives me an idea.”

“Idea?”

“For impromptu family weekend getaway,” you said thoughtfully. “What about you show the city around for us next week? Tell me places you like, good restaurants to eat, and places you visit the most.”

Tim blinked dumbly. “You’re visiting?”

“Yeah! Next week. I promise.”

Tim could feel a smile slowly crept up on his cheeks. He shifted on his bed out of excitement. “You know what? This also give me an idea.”

“Ooh, what is it?”

“That I should go cycling around and list down all places I want to show you,” Tim said as he hopped out of his bed. Already made a beeline towards his coat and shoe rack. “I think I need some fresh air too.”

“Alright, Atta Boy. Wear your jacket. It’s cold outside.”

“On it, Mom. I’ll call you later. See you next week.”

“See you next week, baby. I love you, bye.”

Tim was already halfway out of his room when he answered, “I love you too.”

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ticketstomydaydreams · 4 years ago

Text

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

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dodo-begone · 3 years ago

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Fear for my Lover

Pairing: DSMP!Quackity x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Blood, stitches, bruises, injuries, cursing, frontier first aid (sorry if i missed something)

Summary: Life had been busy lately. Very busy. The night was peaceful and you were more than happy to take advantage of the quiet. Even with Quackity there with you. Fate had other plans though and absolutely ruined what would've been an amazing night.

A/n: i,,, this was meant to be SHORT but also- haha i got 2-3 more parts planned brrrrrr. Also used a dialogue prompt thingy for this- you'll see them in there. They're highlighted.

You thought nothing of it when Quackity said that he was going out. Beforehand he told you that he might have to stay late to do some work. You weren’t sure if he had finished or not, but his departure only confirmed the thought that no, he had not finished business.

With a sigh, you walk over to the couch and flop onto it. The exhaustion from the many months of constant work was catching up. You missed how life was before. Even when you were stuck under Schlatt’s rule on Manberg. Yes, it was quite tedious and annoying, but you weren’t completely rebuilding a nation from the ground up along with its citizens.

The physical work of building was tiresome, but something relaxation and a few nights of rest could easily reverse the effects. Though the mental strain was a completely different story. All of the paperwork was tedious and could keep you up at night just because you need to get one more paper done before dawn. Or just knowing that you aren’t able to help everyone in the new L’manberg. So many had given up hope, were tired of the vicious cycle that they had been caught in. It may not have been going on long, but it still had its effect on everyone all the same.

So much work and so little recreational time. There was little time to care for oneself with so much work on their plate. Let alone spend time with your loved ones. Even if they lived in the same house as you. It felt alienating when you weren’t able to even have a small conversation with your significant other.

Your thoughts were deafeningly loud. Sometimes even covering each other when they brought up memories of anxieties of the past and future. That’s why it was rather surprising when the entire L’manberg cabinet ran through your front door in a frenzy. Jumping off of the couch, you try to survey the situation. What in Pime’s name could be going on?

Their hysterical cacophony of voices were all that reached your ears. You didn’t even need to hear their words when you saw Quackity’s limp body in Fundy’s arms.

Without a second thought, you push your way over to Fundy and Quackity, quickly searching him for injuries. Well, the injuries part was pretty obvious with all of the blood. But the extent of the injuries were another story. What could be going on? How bad was it? Oh Prime, why was there so much blood?

In the frenzy you must’ve said something because something happened. One moment you are near the entrance with your beloved in the arms of his co-worker and the next you’re tending to his wounds in your shared bed. Nobody else was in the room. It was just you and Quackity. Your Quackity. And a bowl of water and a small stack of wash clothes and towels.

Your hands quacked from both worry and the sobs you were desperately holding back. Something was stabbing the interior of your throat as it closed from the overwhelming emotions that filled your body.

What terrified you was that Quackity wasn’t completely unconscious. He definitely wasn’t completely there but he was still awake and babbling. More muttering because of how frail and faint his voice was, but it was still a bunch of nonsense. How you wished to know what he was saying, what he was thinking. Now wasn’t the time, but you feared that if you didn’t know now that he’d never tell you. Shit hit the fan and he came back like this. Either his pride or his desire to “protect” you would keep him from spilling the tea. This was your only chance.

All you were able to do was open your mouth before Quackity was making this harder. He was extremely weak from the blood loss and you were in a race against time to stop the river of blood that just seemed to flow freely from his wounds. You had been holding his bigger wounds tightly, trying to put as much pressure as you could to slow the blood loss or stop it completely. Each attempt to settle Quackity only leads to him resisting more, weakly fighting you to get up. Soon his behavior had gone on for too long, in your humble opinion, and he was still as stubborn as he was in the beginning.

With what little common sense you had left in your nearly hysterical state, you tried to reason with him. “Quackity,” you pleaded, still trying to gently push him back onto the bed so he was laying. “Please lay down, Duckie. It’s for your own good. Just let me bandage you up and I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

From an outsider’s perspective, the attempt was silly. It really wouldn’t have gotten much of a reaction from your confused lover. And yet you still tried anyway, hoping that anything would help at this point. You were desperate.

His silence spoke volumes. In some stroke of luck, Quackity heard your words. That or he became too tired to fight and “speak”. Either way, you were taking what you could get. It was a victory and your goal was reached. Without much, if any fight at all, you managed to get Quackity back into bed and went back to patching up his wounds.

They were much worse than you hoped. Your wish that it was a smaller wound with a ton of blood oozing out was swiftly dashed when you started to clean up the blood from its source. Well, more accurately from anywhere and cleaning until you found the source. Although a bad idea, you had patched up his smaller, easy to access wounds. Though you couldn’t dodge the challenge that stood before you, glaring at you from Quackity’s face.

Petechiae, scratches, and bruises also decorated his face in a hideous manner. The centerpiece of it all was a large scar that traveled from his lip to his eye, all on the left side, was the most obvious wound. The others could heal on their own, but that cut, could you even call it a cut, was in dire need of assistance. It was probably already infected and trying to heal itself. But it was too big, too wide to heal naturally. Intervention was needed and it was needed stat!

Blankly you stare at his face, mind running a mile a minute trying to think of remedies and solutions. Sadly there weren’t many options available. Ponk was too far away to call for his medical expertise, not even considering how late it was. Would he even still be awake? Let alone awake enough to do stitches? You could wait till morning but who knows what condition Quackity would be in at dawn. Something had to be done and it had to be done now. Only one plausible solution remained and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

Swiftly you leave Quackity, moving out of the room as quickly as you could. Quackity tried to reach out to you but just missed your sleeve. Though you didn’t notice or know. You had things to get done and to get them done you needed equipment. Desperately you search around the house, pulling out anything you’d need. More clean towels, a bowl of clean water since the one you had been using was more than dirtied and the towels absolutely soiled. Placing them half-hazardly on a flat surface, you scurried around to find the other necessary equipment. After having to catch your sewing tin and lighter from falling a few times, you grab everything you previously gathered and make your treacherous journey back to Quackity.

When you return, he’s once again sitting up in bed. Weakly, mind you, as he fell back onto the mattress at the sight of you. You wished to scold him for going against what you asked of him, but it didn’t matter now. With no time to waste, you dump your supplies onto the nightstand and fumble around, trying to get everything prepared.

As nimbly as your shaky hands could spare, you set up your thread and needle as if you were going to start sewing a gorgeous design into a quilt. You stared at the bowl of water you had, debating whether or not to use your sad little lighter to heat up that big ole bowl… it’s better if you didn’t. Other than being faster, how much better would it be for sanitizing the needle? It’d take ages to get the water boiling and even then it might not be enough. A flame straight out of a lighter? Seemed better. It got the job done quicker and would be warmer than the boiling water so it was going to kill more bacteria and germ than the boiling water. That’s what you hoped, at least. This is why you aren’t a medic.

Shakily, you ignite the lighter and hold the needle to the flame, slowly rotating it to equally distribute the heat. As tedious and anxiety inducing as it was, it would be worth it in the end. The stitch is only temporary until you can get Ponk to come over, hopefully by early tomorrow. Or later today? What time even was it- Snap out of it! This isn’t the time to be doing this!

You didn’t know how hot the needle had to be to be considered “sanitized” but you had waited long enough. At least that’s what it felt like. Plus the part of the needle you’re holding is getting pretty hot.

When you go in for the first suture, the hiss of pain before you even punctured the skin was a good indicator to you. Not that he was awake enough to still be actively feeling things, but to be able to vocally express his pain and that the needle was hot enough to probably kill most bacteria and germs if it hurt to touch. Hesitation is making you its bitch, holding you still and making you contemplate if what you’re doing is right. Of course what you’re doing is right. It has to be. It’s one of the best and only options you have.

Before you did anything else, you grabbed one of the towels and rolled it up. Gently you pried his mouth open and placed it in like a gag. He wasn’t going to be able to grip much and he’d be grinding his teeth together from pain. Previous experience with stitches and similar frontier medical procedures has taught you one thing; having a gag to bite on helps every part. The patient gets a way to release their pain and the “doctor” is less likely to be hurt by the patient since the patient will have something else to focus on hurting. It doesn’t work entirely but it’s better than hearing the unmuffled screams of agony and feels better to have something to grip onto as hard as you can.

After getting him situated, you position yourself again. With a deep breath, you start off the first suture. Quackity’s muffled scream was heartbreaking yet shocking. Even with you expecting it, it still spooked you a bit. But everything was okay. This was for the best. And then you continued on. Slowly you added stitch after stitch after stitch until you thought you did enough. Really it was a combination of “this is adequate” and “i’m too anxious to keep going because what if i mess up”. Without anesthetics, it was just horrific for both parties to go through with this endeavor. He was moving around so much, trying to twist and turn away from the pain being done to him. His movements were so often and large enough to make you nervous about going near his eyes. What if you poked it out? Or made him blind?

Looking back at the stitches and what they held together, it was obvious that his eyesight was going to be impaired from now on. His eyes were looking completely different from each other now. The regular on the right and the horrific product of whatever he did on his left. A white film covered his eyes like a snow blanket. He was now blind in that eye or going blind.

Realistically, he was going blind but you still held out for the unrealistic hope that he’d be almost entirely okay afterwards. You knew it was unrealistic, but you still hoped.

You Quackity didn’t deserve this.

Once you have cleaned up the mess you made, you start to pack everything up. Needle in the bowl to be cleaned, remaining threat back into the tin, bowls moved away from where they’d get bumped and dumped. Slowly and methodically you finish your tasks. The adrenaline of the night is slowly leaving your body and exhaustion is once again taking hold of you. Oh how you hated that. Absolutely despised the feeling.

After everything was to your liking, you go to check on Quackity again before you leave to give and get some silent rest for the two of you. It’s the least you could do for him after all of this.

He seemed comfortable after everything, peaceful in fact. It was such a calming sight and it eased your guilt of hurting him. Everything you did was for the greater good, you mentally remind yourself. It was to help prevent further infection and it was only temporary. Until you could get proper help for him.

Without much thought, you sit by the bed and lay your head upon it. So much blood got onto the blankets and the sheets. You’d need to clean that quickly. After Quackity gets help and is moved or can be moved, that is. Which would hopefully be tomorrow. Slowly you start to doze off. Or was it zoning out? Either or you were slowly calming down further. To the point where you almost fell asleep.

Jolting awake, you begrudgingly haul yourself off the floor and start your long and tiring journey to the living room. The couch was comfier than the floor, after all. No matter how much you wanted to sleep by Quackity.

Your dawdling is stopped by something on your sleeve. At first you think your sleeve got caught on something so you tug in hopes of being untangled from said object. Nothing happens so you just tug harder. But still nothing happens. Eventually your little tug of war becomes too annoying and has been prolonged enough. You whirl around to see what in Prime’s name you could be caught on.

Low and behold it was the man of the hour, surprisingly. Quackity had grabbed onto your sleeve and just held you there. Confused, you walk back to the bed and sit, holding his face and inspecting for any new signs of pain. Anything that would show that he was feeling something different, something worse. You hoped that he wasn’t feeling like that, but it was a naive hope. Wounds were not an unfamiliar concept to you and yet you’d always hope for such fantastical things to the point where it was odd.

In return for you holding his face, he went to gently hold yours. A soft smile makes an appearance upon your face after the action.

“How’re you feeling, Ducking,” you whisper. Silence once again makes its presence known and it’s very loud and obnoxious about it. “Sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. That was stupid of me to ask.”

Quackity chuckles at your slip up and you’re more than happy to join him. Slowly your chuckling drowned out by the silence that had obnoxiously told you how wrong you were to ask your beloved if he was in pain when it was more than obvious that he was, indeed, in pain. You take a deep breath and release a sigh.

“You need to sleep. It’ll help with the healing and hopefully with the pain until tomorrow. I plan on calling Ponk to do some actual doctor shit on you because Prime knows how amazing my skills are.” Once again you attempt to leave Quackity to sleep, but stopped by his grip on your sleeve.

“Please,” he rasped. God his voice was so hoarse after everything. You felt terrible as you were part of the cause and yet you couldn’t do anything nor bring yourself to feel too bad. It was all for the greater good, after all. For his health.

“Please what?”

“Please stay with me,” he begged, looking straight into your eyes with his only working one. The sight was pitiful. Such a prideful man who could do so much left in such a weakened state. You hated seeing him like this. Nobody liked seeing their loved ones in a position like that. And how could you deny him that request, especially with what he went through tonight. You still didn’t know what it was but the aftermath was horrific enough to give a small clue as to what happened.

“Of course,” you reply, smiling warmly and climbing into bed with him. The moment you’re under the blankets and sheets, he gently pulls you into a hug. For his or your sake, you’re unsure. You hope that it’s his though. “Anything for my Duckie.”

#dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #dsmp!quackity x reader #dsmp shipping #dsmp!quackity #mcyt shipping #x reader #tw: gore #tw: injury #tw: violence #tw: bruises #tw: injuries #tw: cursing #tw: frontier first aid #c: quackity #dodo writing

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embrassemoi · 3 years ago

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Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 33

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Swearing, unhealthy defence mechanisms

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 33: Betray The Moon as Acolyte

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September 8th, 1976

Remus peered up to the night sky, resplendent with a coruscating kaleidoscope of stars and the full moon. He yawned, acutely aware of his bones shifting, aching and cracking. Resting on a small cot pressed against the wall in the corner of the shrieking shack, Remus felt his temperature rise and skin stretch too thinly across his body.

“I’ll be back once the sun rises, dearie,” Madam Pomfrey called out, the door millimetres from locking shut.

“Wait,” he said and Madam Pomfrey re-opened the door with a warm, motherly smile.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For always helping, I know it can be… tiresome.”

How long has it been? That Pomfrey had been helping him out, every full moon — had known of his affliction and been there to assist? It was years now, countless hours of her time wasted on him.

Was he that much of a burden? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, that made his face pucker and heart lacerate itself in fresh wounds.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, honey.” Then the door clicked shut and he heard her utter a spell; to confine the beast within the four walls.

The tormenting plague increased every minute as the countdown to his transformation loomed. His heart thudded stridently and his breathing was ragged and strained. His teeth grinded against each other and his tongue swept across them, feeling them elongate and reshape in preparation.

Remus grabbed the hem of his jumper, exasperated by the overwhelming heat and because he didn’t want to shred it in the process. As he slipped out, feeling the adored red fabric, tattered with holes and frayed yarn in his hands, the door opened and he could already smell Peter and James. Subconsciously, he shielded his body from them, to avoid them from seeing all of his scars.

Remus became dizzy instantly. James wore a particularly strong perfume that day.

More than anything, over the pain and hint of repugnance, he was nervous. It would be the first full moon since… the prank that the Marauders would be together for his transformations. Or all the Marauders aside from one and nobody wanted to address it.

A sharp pain thundered through his skull and he knew time was slipping from him. Remus couldn’t recall the last time the moments before his transformation were that painful.

“You okay, Moons?” Wormtail asked, dropping down beside him. Prongs followed in suit, taking his sweater and folding it neatly.

“I’m fine — umph —”

“Shit! Prongs, get back and turn. Now!”

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After a week of lessons, there were considerable adjustments to the curriculum. Everyone noticed and it quickly dispersed a sombre milieu on all of Hogwarts.

Classes were smaller, many parents deciding to transfer their children to other magical schools around the world. Y/N even received a few worried letters from Matthew that there was an abundance of new British students attending Ilvermorny.

In his worried letters, Matthew informed her that the MACUSA and French Ministry of Magic had been stepping in, fighting forces against the wizarding war. It was all news to her. Ever since James’ parents cancelled their subscription to the Daily Prophet after their beliefs that they were biased, she hadn’t been able to catch up.

More defence and attack spells were taught and everyone became well aware of why someone of Professor Elway’s reputation and skill was there. The same went for the Duelling re-opening and even Flitwick initiated small tutorial sessions for students of all grades to teach them defensive spells.

Defence Against the Dark Arts became nothing more than a Muggle military camp. Elway drilled the students; attack and defence spell after the other, never stopping for a second. Transfigurations focused more on concealment and vanishing charm and every day McGonagall looked as if she aged a decade by the solemn, haunted look that nowadays was permanently carved into her.

Herbology went over a vast majority of life-saving plants, herbs and how to make their own medicine. And Potions heavily focused on identifying spiked potions with poisons and how to create reversal serums in case of emergencies.

The students of Hogwarts weren’t brainless. They knew they were training them for war.

She tried to ignore it, but if anything Y/N felt foolish. The magical world was meant to be an escape, not a guardhouse.

It didn’t help that the murders from the summer played heavily in her mind along with the rumours of Voldemort recruiting students from Hogwarts, prompting a spike of distrust to spread rampantly. It wasn’t time to fight or lose people but to keep those you trusted and loved close. So Lily keeping her distance had her worried.

Sorted into the same dorm as last year, she reckoned she would have some time with Lily but every day it seemed like she was busy with prefect duties, or had homework, or reading, or a new study group she needed to rush off to. She and Lily hadn’t resumed their usual nightly routines either, hadn’t sat with her in the Great Hall since the welcome back feast and hadn’t said more than a word to her.

It was evident that Lily was avoiding her and only her.

Maybe Y/N had gotten clingy, got too close too hastily because it felt too similar to how her mother treated her. It caused the imminent, spine-chilling feeling of wanting to push everyone away.

Extreme distress was starting to pile up.

Luckily, James stayed a constant consistency in her life and a lot of her pent-up fears dissipated by his presence. He never ignored her, if anything he went out of his way to be nearer. Even Peter and most notably, Remus, had become part of her daily life more than ever.

It was terrifying and everything told her to run. Don’t get too close, don’t get too comfortable. But it was hard not to.

That morning, James crept up to her dorm, knocking softly as she popped out, ready for the day. He looked exhausted; his eye bags were prominent, darkened and cradled in his arm, he held Remus’ rabbit.

“To keep him company,” James explained, yawning while escorting her down the staircase, passing the rabbit over. “It was a rough night.”

It would be the first time they would try to incorporate Y/N into replacing Black and balance out James’ other priorities with Remus’ moon cycles. And unable to reschedule Quidditch try-outs to another morning and James forced to leave prematurely, she would have to step in.

But her fears skyrocketed. Were they pushing it? She was only visiting him… It wasn’t out of pity and she genuinely wanted to be there to support Remus.

“What if he doesn’t want visitors?”

James rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. He’ll appreciate it more than he’ll let on.”

But then a faint floral and citrus smell flowed through the distilled air as she took a deep breath.

“James, you smell really good... Are you wearing perfume?”

His frown transformed into a prideful simper. “Bought the same perfume as my mum. Helps when I miss her.”

She gasped. “A mama’s boy!” And then pinched his cheek.

About to step out of the portrait, James must’ve accidentally activated a prank because the moment his hand brushed against the portrait, four Muggle stereos floated above his head, blasting break-up songs on the highest volume. It rattled the walls and made their ears bleed.

“Fucking hell!” James shouted, his wand swishing around to stop the music while Y/N stuffed Remus’ rabbit inside her bag and bewitched a silencing spell around it.

“Students are sleeping!” Lily shrieked, rushing down the stairs and charmed away the stereos.

“Oi! You think we don’t know?” James retorted, a hand clutching his ear. “Emmeline…”

“Emmeline?” Lily repeated, shaking her head. “May Merlin himself save the poor girl daft enough to end up with you.”

The only enlightened that took away from the war and recent murders was Emmeline and her friends pranking and wreaking havoc like the Marauders onto James as a punishment.

He deserved it and even James agreed.

“Where are you two headed?” Lily inquired and for the first time since the train ride, she addressed Y/N head-on.

A glimmer of hope.

“Aw, finally starting to care about me, Evans?” James joked although it’s laced with uncertainty.

Y/N cut off Lily before she had the chance to speak, eager to answer her question. “It’s Remus.”

Recognition filtered through her, gaze shooting up to the large grandfather clock beside the bookshelves. Lily’s head bobbed repeatedly, pressing her lips together sympathetically. She considered James for a moment.

“Will you be back in time for lessons?” Lily then whipped her hands around. “Y’know what, forget it. I’ll take notes for… both of you.”

Y/N felt James nudge her foot, simultaneously forcing out a cough. His hand went to scratch behind his neck. “R-right. Erm, I — we appreciate it, Evans, but ugh — we have a free period this morning.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Sorry.”

“NO!” James said a little too loud. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her neck bending as her shoulders tensed while watching their interaction play out. “Alrighty, we should go. Thank you, Petals.” She interjected. Her hands spun James around as they walked out of the common room and to the hospital wing.

Both students groaned out loudly. Black was there, sitting on the ground and back pressed against the wall to the wing.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” James challenged. His feet pivoted to Black, before her hands pressed against his chest, preventing him from touching Black and starting yet another fight. “Leave it.”

His eyes flickered from her to Black. Sighing, he made a slight rearward movement and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Just don’t follow us.”

They walked inside without sparing him another glance.

“Here comes the fucking sun, Moons!” James chirped, his mood altering drastically. But she staggered behind a beat.

Remus was already awake, quietly chatting to Peter. His bed curtains were half drawn and she took his rabbit from her bag, pulling it close to her chest.

His head snapped in their direction, but instead of his eyes landing on James, it went squarely to her. She smiled, eyes analyzing every ripple of expression. He didn’t seem angry. No, not at all, but stunned.

Once James realized she wasn’t by his side anymore, he turned and looped an arm over her shoulder. He whispered, “Moony won’t bite. It’s okay.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Remus finally said, smiling.

“Of course I’d come.” Confidence now circulated her body as she approached him, handing over his rabbit. James was delighted at his response while the rabbit nuzzled its way into the crook of Remus’ neck, tickling him. She murmured into his ear, not wanting to peer pressure him by others' wants, “You don’t mind me being here, do you? I’ll leave, no hurt feelings.”

Remus shook his head, petting his rabbit. “No, please stay.” He croaked, voice deep and tired.

“Oi!” James said, albeit quietly.

“Flirt somewhere else,” Peter added with false annoyance.

James nodded. “So, little Moony —”

“Little Moony?” Remus groaned. “What?”

“Aw,” she teased, “Is moody Moony making an appearance?”

“Did you come just to make fun of me?”

But then Peter grinned cheekily, moving to softly slap his hand down on his thigh in the same tempo as Here Comes the Sun. Y/N and James immediately caught on, ready to chagrin while Remus shook his hands in front of his face to get them to stop.

“Don’t you —“

“Here comes the sun, moody Moony —“ “Crikey.”

“Here comes the sun, and we say it’s alright!” They sang, keeping their voices to a minimum to not worsen his potential headache. They had to hold back their laughter as Peter began to replicate the horrible instrumental with his voice. James sang the loudest. “Little Moony, it’s been a long cold moon cycle.”

Madam Pomfrey poked her head from her office, ready to tell the visitors to be quieter than a mouse — or kick them out in favour of Remus’ rest but she froze. Remus was poorly attempting to cover his smile, his cheeks burning a bright red and she hadn’t seen him that happy after full moons. And after what happened last year, his happiness was all she wanted. So she sat back down, smiling to herself at the horrid sing.

“Little Moony, the smiles returning to the faces —”

“Guys!”

“Little Moony, it feels like years since it’s been here.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

James eventually left, rushing to tryouts with Marlene with a great deal of apprehension. When the bell rang, students rushing down for breakfast, both Y/N and Peter departed momentarily to the Great Hall, grabbing a few snacks and tea Remus requested.

But the moment Peter stepped foot outside the hospital wing, it was as if any sort of energy left his body. He became sluggish, moving slowly and yawned multiple times.

“Pete, go back to him, I’ll get everything,” she implored. “Or get some rest. I can’t imagine staying up all night can be good.”

“It’s —” A yawn. “— Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t push. They made their way around fast and exited quickly before a group of seventh and sixth years swarmed Peter. A few even greeted her, attempting to strike a conversation.

Peter sent her a dejected look, passing her the rest of the snacks and teacup.

“I’ll meet you there.”

She rushed back in record time. Black was still sitting outside the wing and she could faintly hear him muttering her name but she disregarded him wholly.

But the sight inside the hospital made her heart shatter.

Remus was haggard, dishevelled and face screwed together in pain. He tried to push himself up multiple times to reach behind his head, to his pillow. But it was futile.

The crinkling of the wrapper in her hand made her wince; it became the loudest object in the world at that moment. It forewarned Remus and she gently padded over. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, setting down everything on the metal tray.

“Don’t push yourself — here, let me.” Remus visibly reclined into himself, covering his scarred arms with the blanket coiled by his side. But he listened without complaints as she reached behind his head, fluffing his pillow and helped him lay back down gently. “Not feeling too good?”

“Like shit.”

It became awkward fast.

“Um… Peter’s coming. Was held up with a couple of seventh years.” “You can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Remus blurted out, “I won't force you —”

“Woah there!” She felt as if she was slapped by him. The sudden change had her wheeling. “Who said you’re forcing me? You’re my Moony, no?”

He breathed out a chuckle and shifted towards her. She glanced at the tray with a few potions. What he said stuck to her.

“Do you mind if you can pour those into my tea? Thanks.” Remus croaked.

She nodded, unscrewed the cork to the vials and mixed it into the drink. The clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the porcelain cup.

“What is this?”

“Um… a mixture of powder silver and Nightshade,” grumbled Remus, trying to push himself up as she handed him the cup. “Helps with the pain and fogginess.”

Her mind was restless. “Can I ask some questions?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Questions?”

“Y’know, about being a werewolf.”

He took a giant gulp. “Did you just skip all the Werewolf questions on the OWLs?” Remus laughed.

“I bet half of it’s false.” She admitted truthfully. “Besides, how am I supposed to help next time if I don’t know?”

Remus stayed quiet for a long time after she said that and she wondered if she pushed a boundary. But then he nodded, urging her to continue.

“Okay… so silver doesn’t hurt you, right?” She watched as Remus sip his tea before having to put it down to laugh.

“Myth.”

“So all the silver bullet stuff..?”

He gave a full-body laugh. “Myth. Sorry, not what you were expecting?”

“No,” she admitted after a bit, embarrassed. All those children's stories were false…

“Silver can’t hurt me, I don’t grow hair rapidly. I like eating rare meat; I have trouble sleeping, I don’t have curved fingernails or low-set ears. I can’t run super fast but I can see better in the dark, can hear, smell and am stronger than the average Muggle or Wizard.”

“Can you always smell or hear better? Or does it increase near the full moon?”

“It becomes stronger near the full moon and after for a while.”

“Wait… Does that mean you can smell people. Like me?!” She was appalled and crossed her arms over herself as if the action would suddenly cover any scent.

Remus barked out laughing before wincing as a dull pain shocked through his system. “You smell fine. Don’t worry.”

Her hands found their way to cover her mouth. She was mortified. “You have a way with words, Lupin.”

Remus was on the verge of tears, nearly choking on himself to prevent laughing. He endured the deep bruise on the side of his ribs digging into him but he couldn’t stop.

She slapped his arm playfully and took the now empty teacup from his hand, setting it down on the metal tray and ushered him to slide over in his bed. He doesn’t hesitate.

Y/N slid beside him, and she could feel the fluctuating rise and fall of Remus’ chest as his chuckles came to a slow halt. She took the rabbit from his lap, holding it in her arms carefully.

“Does she have a name?” She questioned, scratching behind its floppy ears. Remus chose the least threatening rabbit.

“No.”

“We should think of one then.”

Remus watched her, listening to the words pouring out. But then he cringed inwardly, reminded of his cruelty to her a couple of months ago. He wasn’t expecting her to visit and it came as a pleasant surprise. It made his heart flutter. She wasn’t scared. She hadn’t been lying that night. He was accepted.

He tuned in to her heartbeat: steady and calm. Slow.

Her words echoed in his head. I feel safe with you.

Safe.

Remus felt a whisper of a smile worm it's way onto him. As soon the realization came, the dull ache in his body subdued, the burning in his throat faded and the hollow ache in his heart filled with a golden glow. Just a bit.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 10th, 1976

“I’m sorry,” Black said, his eyes wide and pleading as he sat beside her in the Great Hall. She ignored him.

“I need to explain, please,” Black begged in a hushed voice while she searched the library’s premises for Regulus. She ignored him yet again.

“Tesoro mio,” Black flirted, both sitting in the common room as she added notes in the werewolf section in her textbook. His new tactic caught her off guard but she prevailed, getting up and leaving.

“Talk to me,” Black whined. “Please.” She ignored him, continuing to walk to class calmly and held her head high. She just left the hospital wing and Black was trailing her.

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby broom closet and closed the door.

“Get off of me!” She nearly screamed. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep a healthy distance away. She kept her hands balled into a fist, preventing herself from taking one of the dust brooms and smashing it on his head.

“Sorry! But you won’t talk to me any other way!”

Darkness enclosed them, only the light seeping through the cracks of the old wooden door illuminated Black as every ounce of restrengthen was pushed to the edge.

A flurry of apologies fell from his lips but she wouldn’t have it. Simply looking bored at her nails and tapping her foot against the ground.

“I know you’re mad — you have every right to be! I get that, I understand.”

“Then leave me alone?” She jeered sarcastically, handing grazing the doorknob.

“Wait! Please, just hear me out — let me explain —”

“Explain what?” She lashed out through gritted teeth. “You should count your stars that you don’t have an attempted murder charge.”

Her heart thumped rather fast and would have been distressing had she not been controlled by anger. Everything was overshadowed by a grim penumbra sweeping over them, closing in on her and Black and it wasn’t because of the lack of light in the dingy closet.

She was revolted by him. Sick of seeing his sad face, moping around the hospital wing or looking at her or the other Marauders in yearning.

“Do you think I’ll care about what you want to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted, dipshit.”

His head bowed. “I deserved that.” “You think?”

“It’s just that —”

Her temper spiked to the highest level and her hand drifted to her back pocket and grazed the tip of her wand.

“I —”

Something in her snap. “Shut up. Shut up! Stop trying to defend yourself! Stop it! I don’t want to hear it!”

Black was visibly shutting down. “Please, just calm down…”

And then everything poured out.

“Calm down? Calm down?! I gave — I put my trust in you and you immediately ran with it, breaking it twice and then broke everyone else’s! How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay? I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like Snape, but really? What do you not understand?!”

He was nodding his head, taking it, never once trying to defend himself. His head hung similar to a child being scolded, hands curled around himself.

“You must have never cared for them.”

Black went oddly still. “That's a bold lie and you know that.”

“Do I?” She ridiculed. “Do you want to know the funny part? I was starting to care for you. Apparently, you never did.”

“That’s not true.”

There, a flicker of rage. Finally a reaction other than pathetic regret and guilt. Something cold crept into his eyes, hardening and entirely stormy and silver, reminding her of last year where they constantly fought. But then, it was washed away with a blink.

“I was nothing but a toy to you!”

“Y/N...”

“You. Never. Cared. About —”

“Stop it! Of course I —”

“— Me. Or. The. Other —”

“— fucking cared —”

“— Marauders —” “ — about you!”

Her eyes stung with bitter unshed, frustrated tears and her throat burned, constricting together. Emotions she hadn’t taken a moment to consider hit her within seconds and everything was too overwhelming.

The material of her shirt suddenly turned itchy. Her skin was too tight and she felt herself rock back and forth in a way to calm down.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer as it fell silent but she struck a nerve.

“Stop saying that!” He shouted. Now not breaking her stare and took a step forward.

“You’re fucking selfish. You betrayed them.” A step forward.

“You only cared about yourself.” Black shook his head. Another step forward.

“If you ever cared about me — about anyone else you’ve hurt — you wouldn’t have done… that.” A step forward.

They were the closest they had been in months. Their breaths were laboured and ragged. Being that close to him raised all the hairs on her neck in a way she used to love but now hated herself for.

The very notion made her nauseous. Disgusted.

She missed him. Truly. It was such a profound hurt and longing that ran deeper than wanting a quick snog or shag. But that was her problem that she was going to have to hide, bury in an air-sealed chest and throw away.

He opened his mouth and he leant forward inappreciably. But whatever words he was about to spew, he stopped himself. She could feel his breath fan her face, both of their chest raised and fell rapidly.

They stayed like that for a while and she held back from crying, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” He asked dejectedly.

Why did you have to be so stupid? We could’ve… you could’ve had everything.

Do you miss me?

Did you ever care, even a little?

“This time,” her voice was no louder than a rustle, “I mean it. I hate you. Truly.”

Lie.

Black gave her one last glance through heavy, desolate, half-lidded eyes, closing them shut. “Ti voglio bene.”

Her frown doubled, wondering if he mocked her. Why did he always do that?

“At least you’re consistent in one thing.”

She slipped out, her hand on the door and cracked it open, leaving him there.

“Being a fucking liar.”

She slammed the door shut with so much violence that it made a couple of bystanders passing by yelp and stare. The shattering of glass from within the closet echoed and it made her breathless.

She had to lean against the stone wall, her body buzzing and numb from the adrenaline.

Sometimes everything in her life seemed so… random. What if everything could have been avoided? One simple word, maybe if she said something different, or did something different, would the outcome have been better? Or worse?

What if she had two parents? What if she had been raised by a loving mother? Would she have been that hurt by his actions if opening up was less… impossible?

What ifs…

She stumbled her way to class mindlessly, horribly late. The floorboards creaked, cutting Slughorn off while she lurked in the doorway. The teacher’s head, along with everyone else in the room, snapped up.

Lily looked at her worriedly and concern was written in every inch of her face. James had a double-take and became alarmed while Marlene on the other side of the class looked around nervously.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, m’girl!” Slughorn smiled. “Please, take the seat next to… Severus! Now, I was saying, I have a small tradition I’d like to do every year with my students.”

Y/N didn’t even interject; too drained after what happened and sat by Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” The professor held up a tiny bottle. “Or can anyone tell me what Felix Felicis is?”

Lily raised her hand, casting a concerned gaze to her before answering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barty and Avery, along with a few other students whispering to each other as Lily spoke; all of them forcing down a smile. Y/N vaguely sensed herself prickle.

“It’s known as Liquid Luck. As the name suggests, it makes the drinker lucky.”

“Beautiful answer! Quite right! Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, whoever brews the Draught of Living Death the closest will win this prize at the end of this lesson. Off you go!”

The class was scurrying off quickly while she made her way around leisurely. Snape’s sopophorous bean had been hitting her multiple times.

“Would you fucking —” she grabbed the bean with her hands and threw it at Snape and he hissed at. “Just take your knife blade and squeeze it down on the side with your dagger.”

Snape scoffed. “That’s not going to work you d —”

Snape shut up immediately as she crushed the bean with a sharp knife and flicked the juice into the cauldron.

“Now stop hitting me or I’ll pour your potion on the ground.”

Snape’s attention wasn’t on her, instead of trying to decipher her scribbles before taking her book away from his eyesight. She hit him with her book.

She completed the rest of the potion with ease. Snape was nearly done with his potion, she could tell he was on the right path before Slughorn sauntered around the classroom to observe the students. At James’ cauldron, he made no comment but instead helped stir his potion. Lily was given an approving nod, announcing to the class that she earned Gryffindor a few house points until making his way over to their table, peering into the cauldrons. At Snape’s concoction, he gave a bright smile and opened his mouth until he saw hers and a look of pure delight spread over him, his hands clapping together.

“Oho! Excellent! Miss L/N has done it! We have our winner!”

A small round of claps went around meanwhile James and Marlene cheered loudly, effectively embarrassing her.

“Show off,” Snape sneered. She ignored him.

Once the bell rang, Slughorn called her over to collect her vial of Liquid Luck. She slipped the bottle into her pocket for safekeeping.

But before she left, she stopped and spun around. “Professor Slughorn?”

“Yes?”

“I read in my Advanced Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but I found that there’s no Potion to help Werewolves. I was wondering if that’s still true? I know books can be outdated.”

Slughorn gave her a pensive look. “I think that’s a matter for Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason why?”

“It’s just —” She made up a lie quickly. “I’m nervous about NEWTs and how I’ll do in my studies and it’s merely an interest.”

“Oh, my girl! You are excellent. By far one of the best students I’ve ever had. You don’t need to worry!” Slughorn cheered. Slughorn seemed genuine and she smiled at the praise. “And for your question, no. Sadly there isn’t.”

“At all?”

Slughorn thought for a while. “If I recall, there have been recent developments with stewed Mandrakes. It’s rumoured to help lycanthrope individuals ease their way back into the original human state.”

Y/N stored the newfound information in her head. She thanked him, turning to leave until calling out again. Slughorn twirled his head.

“I was wondering if I could practice more — like I said, I‘m nervous about my NEWTs.”

There wasn’t even a delay and Slughorn beamed. “Of course! As long as you clean up after yourself, you may come and go as you please. I’ll make sure to leave the doors open until curfew.

“Oh! I’m planning to host another Slugclub dinner soon, I expect you to be there?”

“... Of course, sir.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Translations:

Tesoro mio = My treasure or 'honey'

Ti voglio bene = 'I love you' but its not like what you think. It's more of an unconditional and selfless love that means 'I want you to be well.' It places an emphasis on the tender and affectionate feelings you have for the other person. It's the safer option to say to your significant other if it's a very new relationship.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

My Last Piece ~ Im Jaebum

-part 1-

You never quite imagined that you’d find yourself in the position once again, sitting opposite Jaebum was something that you vowed never to do, not after he broke your heart. But as you were always told, love made you do funny things, and even though you’d found your footing without him in your life, you never truly felt as if you were yourself.

He was the first to admit that he’d made many mistakes, but he was also the first to admit how sorry he was. It was the only way that he’d managed to convince you to come to dinner that night, under the promise that so much about him had changed.

“I’ve missed doing things like this,” he suddenly spoke from the other side of the table, breaking apart your daydream. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until you weren’t around, it’s been hard without you around.”

“We can’t go straight back to how we were once before,” you pointed out to him before he got too carried away, “we don’t know how this new life will turn out, I’m going into this thinking of myself.”

His head nodded, “I appreciate that, and I’ll adjust myself to fit what works for you.”

“You are the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Your words brought a gently smile to his fae, knowing that there was still a part of you that longed for him in the same way that he longed for you. A small part of him always hoped that things were meant to be, the two of you seemingly had a destiny to be by each other’s side.

He’d tried to move on and find someone else, but each time his mind came straight back to you. He thought he’d lost his chance, but he was never going to quite waiting for you.

“It’s always ever been you,” Jaebum responded to your comment after a few moments, making sure that he found the right words. “Nobody else in the world gets me like you do.”

You softly smiled across at him, nodding your head in agreement with what he said. “As much as I want to hate you right now, I just can’t. You complete me, that’s why we spent so many years together, even if it wasn’t always the way things should’ve been.”

Despite the attention that he received, travelling the world, meeting fans, celebrities, and several beautiful women, known of them ever compared. He was offered dates, dinners, he had it all, but he refused, simply because none of them were ever you.

You were the one that he held out for you, he hoped for, because you were the only one that got him. You knew the answers to support him and the words to say to encourage him, you were the last piece in the crazy world that he lived in to give him the perfection that he’d searched his whole life for.

Even if his life sometimes felt like a roundabout, going round and round in never ending circles, for so long you had been the one constant in his life. The most important piece in the cycle that was there for him no matter what.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Jaebum then whispered, “I can’t do anything without you.”

Your eyes glanced across to study his face closely once again, “I mean it when I say that I can’t go back to how we were straight away though Jae, I need the space to breathe.”

“I know, and I don’t expect you to stay by my side no matter what straight away, I just want to know that you’re here, because you’re the one the one who completes me,” he whispered.

Your hand brushed over the top of your head, your heart was full of an abundance of emotions, whilst you still loved Jaebum, you couldn’t forget how everything had ended before so quickly and easily. You were hurt and you suffered, all at the hands of him.

When the times were good between the two of you, they were incredible, your relationship was a masterpiece that so many other couples could only dream of having, even if you hated each other at times, you were the only ones in the world that each other wanted.

“You know how I feel about you,” Jaebum noted, taking a sip from the glass in front of him, “you don’t need me to sit before you and tell you all of the things I love about you. I’ve called your name thousands of times in the hope that you’d come back to me.”

Your eyes stared down at the candle that was sat in the middle of the table, letting go of yet another sigh. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who ended up calling your name when we were at the event that night.”

His eyes rolled as you yet again proved him wrong, as you had done time and time again. “I would have come and seen you eventually, but I watched your performance, and I didn’t know what else to do, you were incredible.”

A heavy sigh came from you as Jaebum met your gaze as soon as you looked up. You knew he was keen and intent on winning your heart once again, but you were terrified of opening yourself up once again only to get hurt.

The two of you needed each other, just as you completed Jaebum, he completed you. The two of you often walked the same path, but just as you were for him, he was the piece that was the constant in the many circles you found yourself running in.

His words were everything that you really wanted to hear, but with every word that came, your heart was screaming at you to slow things down.

“I don’t want to rush,” you warned him once again, “I’ve ridden this wave once before.”

Jaebum’s head nodded, he’d already made it clear to you that he was going to be a version of himself that was best for you. When he promised you that he’d do anything for you, he really did mean it, there was no way he was going to lose his best part all over again.

“But you want to give things a go?” He anxiously questioned.

Your smile slowly grew wider, “like I told you before, you’ve got once chance, otherwise this really will be the last time.”

“And I promise that I’ll prove to you that you’ve made the right choice,” he assured you, reaching across the table to take a hold of your hand. “I’m me, because of you, you’re the most important piece of my life, I don’t want to let you go.”

Your hand squeezed around his much bigger hand, “I hate the way you make me feel, because I can just never seem to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to let go,” he chuckled, smirking across at you, “I want to be able to feel your hand hold onto mine forever, I want to be able to wake up beside you and fall asleep just the same, even when you do breathe too heavily on me.”

Your eyes widened, pinching gently against the back of his hand as he shamed you for one of the old habits you had that you knew he absolutely hated about you.

“Each of those breaths is filled with love,” you retorted, “and I bet you’ve missed those breaths of love whilst I’ve been gone.”

“I’ve missed them more than anything else in the world,” he acknowledged, “I’ve missed everything about you Y/N.”

Your heart continued to pound, “you know that I’ve missed you as well.”

“Say my name,” he chuckled, “I’m still not used to hearing you say it.”

“I’ve missed you, Im Jaebum.”

---

Masterlist

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whumpmatsus · 3 years ago

Note

tw // noises , loud noises : osomatsu afraid of an emergency alert system test

I went ahead and made it an actual emergency alert, because rainy days and Mondays and whatnot-

also it's worth noting I did look up Japan's emergency alert system, but I have no idea how J-Alert actually functions, I've just kind of assumed it's similar to the system that's in place where I live XD

Osomatsu, you've got some top-notch little brothers there!!

it's technically Allmatsu but like... big Sokudomatsu vibes tho :D

All things considered, a few days of bad weather keeping all the sextuplets cooped up in the house pretty much guarantees that they’re all going to be on edge.

They’re occasionally two seconds away from being at each other’s throats anyway, with all the challenges of being a big family in a small house. When the skies darken and open up with rain, though, it all becomes that much worse.

It means Ichimatsu can’t venture out to feed the stray cats, because being out in the cold rain for so long will probably lead to him getting sick. The comfort and stress relief that Karamatsu finds in playing guitar on the roof is vanished into thin air. Everyone has to keep Jyushimatsu from going outside since he’s half determined to play baseball even when it’s pouring. Choromatsu can’t hit the streets in search of a job or anything; too much chance of getting caught in a torrential downpour far from home. That’s also the reason Totty can’t make any plans with his friends, and counts his blessings that he doesn’t have any work shifts during these days.

All things being equal, Osomatsu is almost certainly the most laidback of their little group. Big brother tries his best to find solutions to keep all of them distracted, such as playing games or helping everyone settle on what TV show they should watch. Even though there are other places he’d rather be right now ― like the races or pachinko or maybe somewhere trying to pick up girls ― he can acknowledge that it’s kind of nice to spend time with his brothers when they can’t go outside.

The rain’s been coming down steadily today, a constant pattering that’s rhythmic and borderline soothing. It’s already put Ichimatsu and Totty to sleep, the two of them curled up under a blanket together. Before they fell asleep, Totty said something about the storm being “free ASMR”, whatever that means, and Ichimatsu mumbled an agreement as they cuddled in against each other.

To be completely honest, the energy in the house in general is pretty low. That might be best for a stormy day. Everyone can chill out and recharge their energy.

For the most part, Osomatsu is playing at being as responsible as he can handle today; gathering snacks, making tea, keeping kerosene in the heater so nobody gets too cold. Now that Totty and Ichimatsu are down for the count, everyone else is starting to get sleepy. Which, of course, means it’s time for a collective nap.

He takes a look around the room as he settles in on the couch himself. There’s Ichimatsu and Totty under their single blanket, seeming to be getting along just fine to share it. Choromatsu and Karamatsu are nuzzled against each other with their legs under the kotatsu, with Choromatsu’s head resting on Karamatsu’s shoulder and Karamatsu’s head resting on top of Choromatsu’s. And Jyushimatsu is… huddled up in a few blankets near the couch. For all intents and purposes, sleep has apparently claimed him, too.

Well, that’s good. Now that he’s made sure all his little brothers are comfortable, Osomatsu can doze off himself.

There’s a leftover blanket folded up at the end of the couch, so he pulls it up around himself and lies down with his head propped against one of the arms of the couch. He’d certainly like to be nestled up with one of the others, but he’s not gonna disturb them for that. They’re all in their own pairs, save for Jyushimatsu, and he’s not going to make the second youngest clamber up onto the couch just because Osomatsu wants some physical contact.

Besides, he can get that later if he wants. It’s going to be chilly and dreary all day, so more snuggles are inevitable. If he gets lucky, everyone will gravitate to one big cuddle puddle after dinner.

So he does his best to relax on the couch. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing down a bit. The rain continues to pound in sheets against the window, and in heavy drops against the roof. There’s the soft rumbling of thunder that’s begun in the background, so low and powerful he can feel it. Somehow, it’s a comfort, something that whispers to him that he can go to sleep now.

Surrounded by his brothers and the lullaby of the storm outside, it’s easy to drift off.

Osomatsu is nearly sunk down into the beginnings of a deep sleep when suddenly, a blaring alarm goes off. And it’s not just one ― it sounds like several firing off in perfect, irritating harmony.

He can’t explain why he has the reaction he does. All he knows is that the abrupt, loud, obnoxious noise cuts through everything else and seems to hit the panic button in his head. A terrified yell rips itself from his throat, and he’s bolt upright. Then he’s on the floor, rolled onto Jyushimatsu and waking his younger brother up.

“HOLY MOLY!” And as soon as Jyushimatsu shouts, it’s enough to wake everyone else up. How anybody could sleep through that siren is beyond Osomatsu, though he’s pretty sure if anyone could, Jyushimatsu could. “Osomatsu-nii-san! You’re on top of me! What the heck is that?! Are we late for school???”

Totty groans as he’s woken up in the rudest way possible. “We’re too old for school, Jyushimatsu-nii-san. We’re adults.” He pulls his phone out, and his other hand reaches to pat Ichimatsu on the head. “Aaahnnmmm… it’s a weather alert.”

“Severe thunderstorm warning,” Choromatsu groans, having turned to glance at the TV. “Looks like it’s only gonna last till like 7 P.M., though.”

Karamatsu yawns and rubs at his eyes. “Should we get supplies together in case the power goes out?”

“The rest of you dumbasses can do that,” Ichimatsu huffs. “I’m not moving. As soon as the alerts stop making that shitty noise, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Well, I guess it falls to the three oldest, then.” Choromatsu stretches, giving a quiet, “Oof” when something in his back pops. “Osomatsu, do you wanna come help us… uh… Osomatsu?”

Strangely enough, the eldest brother is still incapacitated from the unexpected sounds, curled into a ball with his hands pressed over his ears. There might even be tears in his eyes, if one’s looking close enough.

Jyushimatsu runs a gentle hand, (or sleeve, as it were), over his big brother’s head, seeing as he’s the closest one. “I think something’s wrong with Osomatsu-nii-san. He’s all shivery and breathing funny.”

That’s really all it takes for Choromatsu to be over lightning-fast, knelt down next to the eldest. “Osomatsu? Osomatsu-nii-san, are you okay?” He frowns and tentatively tugs one of Osomatsu’s hands away from his ear. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Th… the noise…” His hand is trembling in his younger brother’s grip, tears welling up in his eyes. It still feels like his heart is trying to hammer its way out of his chest completely. He can’t really get a good breath in.

Choromatsu’s brow furrows and he looks back toward the TV, which Karamatsu scrambles to turn off in case it’s the prolonged sound causing the problem. “Did you… ahah… it startled you, right? I think it startled all of us…”

Ichimatsu pushes himself up a bit so he can turn his attention to his older brothers. “Looks like it did more than startle him. He’s about to jump out of his skin.”

“Ah…” Choromatsu quickly gathers Osomatsu into his arms, and is surprised with the fervor with which the eldest clings to him. It reminds them both of… being kids. “H-hey, Osomatsu-nii-san… it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s over now. Can you, um, try to follow my pattern of breathing here? That might help you calm down.”

Osomatsu nods and does his best, mirroring the way Choromatsu inhales for four seconds, holds the breath for seven, and exhales for eight. It takes several cycles, a few minutes’ worth of this, before he can feel himself starting to be a little less shaky. His heart is still pounding, but not as fast as it was a moment ago.

Choromatsu holds him carefully, rubbing Osomatsu’s back, until he can feel the tension beginning to fade from his brother’s muscles. That was… weird. It’s not like Osomatsu to get so anxious, especially not to the point that he’s crying. “There… is it better now?”

“Y… yeah…” Osomatsu raises a hand in an attempt to scrub the tears away. Man… how embarrassing. He’s the oldest and he’s over here acting like a baby because of a stupid weather alert. “Sorry… I, uh, don’t know where that came from, haha.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Neither of them make any move to get out of the position for a minute, then Choromatsu gradually pulls away once he can’t hear his older brother’s heart beating like a gong. “You… good?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

Ichimatsu stretches his arms above his head. “Damn. I guess we’re all awake. I hate those alert things… remember that one night when we were kids, and it came on just as we were getting ready for bed?”

Totty laughs, rolling over and propping his face up against one arm. “Yeah, I remember Choromatsu told me they were warning us a big storm was gonna come and wash all the baby brothers out to sea.”

“A-ah…” Choromatsu’s face goes red in an instant. He was such a little bastard as a child. “I’m sorry about that, Totty!”

He waves a hand. “Nah, it’s okay! ‘Cause remember what we did next?”

“Ah… I remember!” Karamatsu grins. “We all said we wouldn’t let the storm get you, and we wrapped you up in blankets and stood guard the whole night.”

“Until we fell asleep,” Jyushimatsu giggles. “I remember panicking when we woke up, but then we all high-fived each other when we saw Totty was still there in the morning!”

“W-we could do that again,” Choromatsu suggests, stealing a peek at their eldest who still appears to be tired. “Except this time…”

Totty’s up in a second. “Ooh, yeah!! Let’s cocoon Osomatsu-nii-san so the big, bad weather alerts can’t hurt him!”

Osomatsu feels like he should be having the hairs on the back of his neck stand up right about now. Instead, he feels sort of warm in a good way when everyone starts to wrap blankets around him. “Geez… you guys don’t need to do all this shit…”

“Well, no, but it’ll be fun.” Choromatsu gives him a smile and nestles in against his older brother’s side. “I’ll take first watch.”

Osomatsu snorts, but lets his head fall on top of Choromatsu’s anyway.

“Man… you guys are lame.”

Thank God for that, though.

#loud noise tw #Osomatsu san #whump #Sokudomatsu #Allmatsu #Osomatsu #anxiety #hurt/comfort #LOOK AT THESE GOOD BOYS #TAKING CARE OF THEIR BIG DUMB LEADER #WARMS MY COCKLES LEMME TELL YA

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mashkaroom · 3 years ago

Text

Lengthy analysis of Holes, as promised!. This will include spoilers, which will be marked. Just gonna go through the book and the philosophy/themes/connections I caught onto this time around. Stuff discussed, in order: connections to Camus, on the question of children’s books, systems, cycles, and why Stanley is gay and jewish 😏

Camus:

The first and perhaps most obvious set of texts/theories it makes sense to put Holes in conversation with is the works of Albert Camus. Holes starts out with a description of the sun and the heat, which readers of the Stranger will remember are major themes there. The heat continues to be a prominent part of the story, though thematically, it functions very differently in the two books. In The Stranger it primarily represents the indifference of the universe (or at least so claim a ton of sources and I’m inclined to agree) and the lack of control we exert over our own lives while in Holes it’s basically the opposite of that. The heat and drought is implied to be a semi-divine punishment for a past injustice and, moreover, the elite adults of the camp have air conditioning and access to shade: the sun does not affect everyone equally in Holes as it does in The Stranger (though even that is debatable: I don’t think this was Camus’s intent, but it’s notable that it’s only the white englishman who’s driven to murder by the sun. This could certainly be read as critique of colonizers who cannot/refuse to coexist with the land and environment and how the indigenous population always suffers for it, but I digress). The other Camusian parallel one is immediately inclined to draw is that, of course, of Sysiphus: there’s the repetitive and seemingly meaningless act of digging holes not to mention that carrying stuff up a mountain is both thematically and plot-wise a very important part of Holes. But, once again, it is eventually revealed that both acts do carry an inherent meaning. Holes does not present the image of an uncaring universe: on the contrary, destiny and semi-divine influence plays a major role. The story may start out with a series of seemingly random and inherently meaningless events, but as the story progresses, people, actions, items, and events become increasingly imbued with meaning. In the Holes universe, one must imagine Sisyphus redeemed, not through the act of rolling the stone but by rebelling against it. I have difficulty imagining that Sachar was not thinking of Camus while writing Holes, or, at the very least, that if he encountered Camus afterwards, he must have been struck by the similarities. I don’t know if there was a specific intent in creating a story so embroiled in Camusian absurdism, especially since the target readership is (allegedly) children who almost certainly are not recognizing specific allusions to Camus, so perhaps the similarities are purely aesthetic — after all, everything that is nominally similar does play quite different thematic roles. However, I would never pass up the opportunity to talk about the myth of sisyphus and I think placing Holes in dialogue with Camus can raise some interesting questions about the nature of meaning.

Is Holes a children’s book?

Speaking, though, of the target audience, the audience for this book is in fact children. What about it makes it a children’s book makes it difficult to say: the protagonists are children (and, I would argue, it is not a coming of age story, despite the claims of one piece of lit crit about Holes in which i disagreed with almost every claim made, but i digress once more) and the writing style is fairly simple: you can read it with a second-grader’s vocabulary. Also, of course, being a children’s book doesn’t (and crucially shouldn’t!) mean that it’s lacking in depth and complexity. However, I think most thematically rich children’s books tend to be quite allegorical. The Little Prince is a good example. Holes is just way too specific for its sole market to be children. It’s either intended to be read by multiple generations at once or for child readers to return to it as an adult. It addresses themes of racism (and not just generic racism, anti-black racism in the reconstruction south), homelessness, intergenerational trauma. and the modern carceral system. These are social critiques that will probably go over most kids’ heads (certainly over mine). However, the themes of the text are not inaccessible for children. You don’t have to understand the particular history of the US criminal justice system or even that Sachar is making a comparison to anything specific to get that the system that he’s portraying is unjust. Knowing the real-world context just adds another layer to the text. Holes also has one of the hallmarks of children’s books that I really like, which is a particular type of absurdism that the child characters come up against. This always rang true to me as a kid and well into my teens, when you start understanding that your life is controlled by some set of systems, but you haven’t quite gotten what those systems are or why and how they came about. Like nowadays, I can say “we did this in elementary school because of a state law, that because of a federal law, that because of the history of puritanism, and this because we got a grant for it”, but as a kid nobody tells you these things or really even cares to explain why the rules are as they are, and the systems that govern your world, often with no small degree of violence and almost always with an inherent disregard for your agency, are ineffable and slippery, and good children’s books capture this really well (Series of Unfortunate Events is probably my favorite example of this, where a secret organization that everything is implicated in and more more tragicomic details about it get revealed until the Baudelaire children find themselves to some degree members with mixed feelings is honestly an excellent coming-of-age allegory. oh, not to mention the constant conflict with bureacracy. god that series is so good, everyone read it). Back to Holes, Sachar weaves the more fantastical ineffable elements in with real-world issues so neatly. Stanley’s family is allegedly cursed, which is why Stanley keeps having bad luck, but he also lives in systemic poverty, which is also why he keeps having bad luck. Sachar eschews neither the allegorical elements common in children’s literature nor the more direct systemic critiques more often found in YA and adult lit, and it creates a really unique vibe. I think the story really benefited from having a children’s author, and I would love to see more authors in both children’s and adult lit do this!

Systems

Speaking of the systems, this book is surprisingly radical. Like it’s full-on an abolitionist text. The law is pretty much only ever presented as adversarial, both in the story of Stanley’s present time, and in Kate and Sam’s story. It’s implied if not stated repeatedly that Stanley and the other boys are pretty much victims of circumstance and have been imprisoned pretty much for the crime of being poor. The hole-digging is shown to be cruel and bad for the boys. It’s noted that in digging the holes Stanley’s heart hardened along with his muscles. This is of course very evocative of the system of retributive justice we have in America. Additionally, Camp Greenlake’s existence can ultimately be traced back to an act of racist violence, also in close parallel with our prison system. Hole’s stance on justice is very restorative. Punishments are never shown to work: only through righting the wrongs can true justice be achieved. Moreover, Holes even gives the opportunity for redemption to a minor antagonist when [minor spoiler] Derrick Dunne, the kid who was bullying Stanley in the beginning ultimately plays a small role in helping Stanley regain his freedom [spoiler over].

Cycles

Cycles are a major theme in holes, and Sachar creates a unique temporality to support this theme. There are 3 interwoven stories: that of Stanley’s in the present date, that of Stanley’s ancestors, and that of the land that Stanley is on (though, as I will delve into later, it’s at least a little implied that Stanley is descended from the characters in that story also). The stories from the past reach in and touch the present. You can’t untangle the past from the future. Looking at this again through a social justice lens, it could be seen as fairly progressive commentary on what to do with regards to America’s past wrongs. The past cannot and will not be left in the past: it must be dealt with on an ongoing basis. Even the warden, the greatest villain of Stanley’s story has a sympathetic moment at the end where it’s revealed that she, too, is stuck in a cycle of intergenerational trauma she can’t break free from.

Stanley is gay and jewish

Ok, I will now talk about how Stanley is a queer Jew, but this entire section will be riddled with spoilers, so read the book first and then come back!

A queer Jew?? i hear you ask. You’re just projecting. Yes, 100%. However, I think that interpreting Stanley as both these things adds to the thematic richness of the text. Let’s start with the Jewish bit: it’s not explicitly stated that Stanley is Jewish, but his great-great grandfather is a nerd-boy Latvian immigrant with the last name Yelnats, and his great-grandfather was a stockbrocker, so, like, ya know. Louis Sachar is also himself Jewish, as was the director of the movie, who cast Jews in the roles of Stanley and his family (dyk Shia LaBeouf is Jewish?? i did not), so I know I’m not the only one interpreting it this way. And honestly, does it not resemble the book of exodus quite a bit? They escape what is pretty much a form of slavery and wander in the desert. Sploosh resembles the well of Miriam, and then they ascend up a mountain to the “thumb of god”, perhaps in a parallel to Moses receiving the commandments. Is this a useful way to look at the text? Who knows. But what I think we do get from reading Stanley as Jewish is a more nuanced discussion of privilege and solidarity. If Stanley and his ancestors are Jewish (or at least Jew-ish), then what placed the curse upon his family (and, we see, Madame Zeroni’s family isn’t doing so great either) is the breaking of solidarity between oppressed people. But also, the fact that you are also marginalized does not wash you of the responsibility to other marginalized groups. I don’t think Sachar intended it this way, because I think he probably would have talked about it more if he had, but I would say this book can be read as a call to the American Jewish community to take an active role in forging solidarity with other marginalized groups and actively righting the wrong you, your ancestors, and your community wrought upon them.

Now, why do I think Stanley and Zero are gay? Before I go into how it augments the text thematically, I bring to your attention this passage.

Two nights later, Stanley lay awake staring up at the star-filled sky. He was too happy to fall asleep.

He knew he had no reason to be happy. He had heard or read somewhere that right before a person freezes to death, he suddenly feels nice and warm. He wondered if perhaps he was experiencing something like that.

It occurred to him that he couldn't remember the last time he felt happiness. It wasn't just being sent to Camp Green Lake that had made his life miserable. Before that he'd been unhappy at school, where he had no friends, and bullies like Derrick Dunne picked on him. No one liked him, and the truth was, he didn't especially like himself.

He liked himself now.

He wondered if he was delirious. He looked over at Zero sleeping near him. Zero's face was lit in the starlight, and there was a flower petal in front of his nose that moved back and forth as he breathed. It reminded Stanley of something out of a cartoon. Zero breathed in, and the petal was drawn up, almost touching his nose. Zero breathed out, and the petal moved toward his chin. It stayed on Zero's face for an amazingly long time before fluttering off to the side.

Stanley considered placing it back in front of Zero's nose, but it wouldn't be the same.

Girl, I’m sorry, that’s gay as shit! It’s such tremendous tenderness, not to mention the traditionally romantic imagery of moonlight and the flower petal. There’s also the non-romantic aspects. Stanley’s inexplicable happiness and suddenly liking himself evokes, for me, at least, the experience of coming out to yourself, of realizing who you are. Later in this chapter, Stanley contemplates running away with Zero despite the fact that it would make them lifelong outlaws. This book, remember, was written in 1998, and homosexuality was decriminalized in 2003, and the book takes place in Texas. It would have been, if anything, even more evocative of gayness when it was published. Now as to how this increases the thematic richness of the text: obviously, in carrying Hector up to the thumb, giving him water, and singing the lullaby, he redeems the wrong done by his ancestor, after which his family’s luck immediately changed. However, after Hector and Zero return to camp Greenlake, rain falls there for the first time. What was redeemed here? Remember that earlier on we learn that what caused the drought was the fact that Sam the onion man (who was black) was murdered for kissing Kate Barlow (who was white) — so what would a [post-factum wronging of that right look like? Zero, as we remember, is black while Stanley is white, so them being in a romantic relationship would be a successful interracial relationship to redeem the one Kate and Sam weren’t able to have. It’s also, as I said earlier, implied that Stanley is descended from Kate Barlow on his mother’s side: Stanley remembers seeing the other half of the lipstick tube with her initials on it in his mother’s bedroom. I’d also argue that Sam the Onion Man is implied to be descended from Madame Zeroni (chronology-wise, I think he’d be her grandson). First of all, there’s no follow-up with Madame Zeroni’s son who moved to America, and pretty much all other plot threads are followed up with in Holes. Secondly, Sam mentions water running uphill, just like Madame Zeroni does. Even without these speculations being true, Stanley and Hector being gay would redeem the land they’re on, but If they are, the parallel with the other ancestral redemption arc becomes to much to imagine it was unintentional.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on Holes, now everyone go read it!

#was trying to express my dad that shia labeouf is jewish but couldn't remember how to pronounce his name #so i was like. dyk sheeya labeeoof is jewish? indiana jone's son. shaya labyof. Pap. Indiana Jone's son. you know who he is. Pap come on #when he figured out who he was he asked if harrison ford was also jewish #as a joke #and turns out he fucking is! his maternal grandparents are jews from minsk!#quoth my father: 'they're everywhere. nothing is sacred'#lololol #anyway this fucking booooook you guys

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years ago

Text

Heartless - pt. 9

You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even know who you were at the moment when you finally started to realise dirt under your nails and fingers. Questions and memories came rushing back, piece my piece- like a slow puzzle.

You opened your eyes, feeling a stabbing pain in your eyes but as soon as you did open your eyes, you saw a pair of shiny, pointy shoes in front of you.

“James?” you asked weakly, feeling your stomach twist inside of you. It felt like there was a constant press on it, causing it’s insides to come up your throat.

You haven’t felt good. Everything hurt and all you wanted to do was lay there and fall back asleep- then you remembered; you already did that before, didn’t you? Woke up for a moment, before falling back into darkness from so much pain. It was a constant cycle of suffering.

You pressed your ear on the ground and let your eyelids close again. You could almost see your wand in the distant, the core of it only. The second half of your wand must be somewhere in the woods, broken from the road down.

You felt the figure in front of you move, kneel down to you... feel the tip of his wand press on your neck. “Are you in pain, child?” he asked but his voice felt cold- like a breeze in the winter- and it sounded like a hiss, echoing in your ears.

The tip of his wand travelled up your neck to your jaw, your cheek where it removed some of your hair. You let out a whimper, tears falling down your cheeks because you couldn’t move and you couldn’t feel anything but pain. Everything hurt so much to the point you didn’t know what to do. You thought of James and your family. You thought of Marcus and Sirius.... You left everybody behind, arguing with them, leaving them because you were upset and now you might die from pain and nobody is here to save you. You’d die alone.

“Yes.” you cried, letting your lips tremble.... your voice catch in your last breaths.

“Do you want me to save you?” he asked, his voice forever imprinted in your head.

“Yes.” you said without any other thought, without any doubts. You want to be saved. You don’t want to die like this.

The man’s lips twitched in a pleasing smirk as he took his wand away and placed his hand on top of your cheek. For some odd reason, it felt warm. It was warm and soft. His touch sent tingles through your body- a safe, comforting feeling.

“I save you, (y/n) and you’ll be in debt to me.” he kept caressing your cheek as you let out sobs- sobs of pain, whimpers of loneliness, breaths of death. “Shh. I’ll save you.” he kept brushing his hand over your cheek. “You just sleep...”

And his voice suddenly changed it’s tone into softness and tenderness, guiding you into a peaceful sleep.

---

James woke up and after another horrible night of nightmares and twisted dreams. His stomach was like a hole- he felt it and he knew that it was because of you...

He wanted to worry but he was so furious at you. It was as if his gut was telling him one thing but his angry, prideful mind was doing the opposite. He woke up alone. Sirius wasn’t in his bed and the light was barely visible in the sky. He mustn’t had slept as well.

With his thoughts on you- on your fight, your words- everything.

‘ I cried every bloody night for a year because I hated my life and YOU WEREN’T THERE! YOU WEREN’T THERE JAMES BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO SELFISH BEING YOU!’

He shut his eyes and squeezed it, trying to brush those thoughts away.

He opened his eyes again, this time softly and not as fast as he shut them. He could feel something spiking his eyes, something travelling up his throat as he continued to see your face just before you left- when you threw those pills at him. How could he forget that? But you were with Nina and you were safe. You had to be safe.

He sat on the edge of the bed and put his bare feet on the rug. He dug his toes in the softness of it, clawing the rug as if it’s the only good thing in his life right now.

Today was the third day since you were gone. He missed you. He missed the presence of you. It was as if half of him was empty because of you and that half started to spread into a whole. He threw his head into his palms, rubbing his hands up and down his face, down his hair. He ruffled them and looked to the side, finding his eyes on the framed photo of the two of you.

“You’re just everywhere but not here.” he said, reaching up for the photo and looking at the two of you as happy children. “You have to be stubborn.. stubborn and dramatic...” he kept looking at your smile, where the front baby tooth was missing. He smiled at the thought of you, of the small utopia that formed in his head when the memories of your childhood came rushing back but then realised the reality of everything and stopped smiling. He rubbed his thumbs against the frame of the photo and put it face down on the bed.

He stood up and made his way downstairs, where everybody was sitting in silence.

There really was something missing in this family. It showed pretty clearly that everybody needed you here. There was a unique energy you brought to this house. There was a cup of coffee in your mother’s hands. She kept holding on to it and looking through the window as if you were about to come.

And James knew that she missed you dearly after three days spent at Nina’s. He felt as if she resented him because of your argument. He felt as if his own mother couldn’t look at him because he chased you away. For three whole days.

But when he appeared, she looked at him softly and smiled. “Morning, honey.”

“Morning, mum.” he came to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

He rarely did that but since he knew that she was worried about you, he thought she needed it.

He didn’t want to ask if maybe you called or wrote them a letter. He was afraid to do so becuase he didn’t know how they would react...

“I think I’ll call Nina to check up on her.” he said and walked to the phone. He typed in the number and waited for the phone to ring. One, two, three times, maybe the fourth time he really wanted to give up but there was a sound of a laughing voice.

It sort of gave him relief. Good, Nina was laughing, which meant you were laughing too.

“Hey, Nina. It’s James.”

“James?” she laughed in disbelief on the other side of the phone line. “What brings you to call?”

“I- uh. I wanted to check up on (y/n).” he spoke softly, remorsefuly.

“(Y/n)?” there was a questioning tone in her voice, causing James’ heart rate to rise up. “What do you mean to check up on her?”

“Well, isn’t she with you?”

“No. Should she be?”

“Nina, it’s not funny. She said she’s going to your place.”

“Did the two of you have a row?” she asked. “Again?”

“You’re acting as if you don’t know.”

“I don’t, James. Honestly, I just came home from Cuba last night.”

“Cuba?”

“(y/n) knew this. She probably went to Marcus’ place anyway.”

“Yeah... probably.” James said doubtfully, glancing at his family, who all of them watched him with eyes as wide as a house elf. All they were missing was a pair of long ears.

“And James?”

“Yeah?”

“Marcus is a great guy. You shouldn’t be against their relationship. They’re actually quite adorable together.” she giggled meanwhile James felt his eyebrows furrow.

“Relationship?”

“Well, it was probably what the fight was about. She finally told you about them? She said she would on Friday.”

“She said she had a date with him? Nothing about a relationship.” he started to get frustrated.

“Oh...” was all that came from the other side of the phone.

“How long was that relationship, Nina?” he asked impatiently.

“I think I said enough.”

“Nina!” he warned her and only heard a sigh in return.

“A few weeks... months maybe. Almost whole summer.”

“What?” James said in disbelief. “And she didn’t tell me?”

“Why would she James? You never cared.”

“Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“James... you just stopped hanging around all of a sudden. You found your own group of friends in Hogwarts but we always kept in contact. Marcus really cared for her. He cared for all of us when you left.”

“We were kids, Nina.”

“Yeah, but we were friends. Friends don’t leave and you did a shitty thing by leaving us- especially for Marcus. The two of you were best friends. He was broken when you didn’t even call. ”

“I’m sorry, Nina. I didn’t know...”

“Sorry doesn’t take it with us, James. You had a life before Hogwarts. You had friends before those friends.” she started to get agitated, as if she was holding this for a long time. “I don’t know where, (y/n) but I wouldn’t blame her for leaving you. You were always an asshole to her. I think she’s at Marcus’ but how would you know when you never bothered to call him.”

“Nina, I-”

“Goodbye, James.” she cut him off and threw the phone down.

James kept the phone up to his ear. Nina really didn’t hold back, did she?

He leaned on the wall, holding the phone in his hand as the line was cut. He took a deep breath in and felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to cry. Merlin, he would just want to curl up into a ball and cry.

Did he really do you so much wrong?

He looked at the phone and straightened his posture, taking a deep angry breath in and calling Marcus. He couldn’t believe he could still remember their house number- after so many years, Marcus’ house number just got stuck in his head.

He picked up sooner than Nina did. Two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Markisha.” he put on a big smile, trying to lighten the mood and not make Marcus as upset as he did with Nina. “It’s James.”

“James?” there was a surprised tone in his voice. “Haven’t heard from you in a long time, mate. Except the time I called (y/n).”

“For a date?” James asked on purpose, knowing what he knows now.

“Uh- yeah.” Marcus cleared his throat but tried to keep his cool.

“Heard the two of you were a thing- how did the first date go?”

“Not good, if I’m honest with you mate.” Marcus took a deep breath in. “Got into our first massive fight.”

“Makes two of us.” James added as a comment, then let his brain process the words again. “What was the fight about?”

“Your best mate, Sirius as I recall.” there was a bit of jealousy in his tone as James glanced at Sirius, then felt an uncomfortable feeling wash over him.

“She told you what happened?”

“She wanted to be honest with me. She promised it wouldn’t happen again but I was too pissed off.”

“But she’s with you, isn’t she?”

Marcus on the other line laughed with his usual voice that let James remember all those childhood days spent together. Guilt after guilt... “It’d be a miracle if she would after we said those nasty things to one another.”

“Marcus...” James trailed off, feeling paranoia enter his stomach, fill that empty hole that he had. “... she’s not home for three days.”

There was silence on the other line for quite a long time. It let James wander if he threw the phone on him.

“Marcus?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” he let out breath. “What do you mean she wasn’t home in three days?”

“As in she said she was going to Nina’s place-”

“Nina was in Cuba.”

“I know that now. I thought she went to you.”

“She’s not with me, James!” Marcus snapped on the other side.

“Thanks for the clarification, Marcus!” James started to get furious as well.

“What the fuck did you do, James?! What did you tell her?!”

“Me!? You’re the one she got in the-”

“But we figure it out, James! You don’t. You never apologise to her, you just piss her off and belittle her- you’re never there for her! You’ve always caused her nothing but pain!”

“Why is everybody on her side all the time!?”

“Because you’re the one that always fucks up and she’s the one that always ends up cleaning after you!”

“That isn’t true!”

“You’re a liar, James! Now, excuse me as I go look for her!”

“Marcus!” James tried to shout back but the line was already dead.

James threw the phone into the wall and wanted to storm off to his room. He would if it wasn’t for his father, who grabbed his arm tightly and looked sternly into James’ eyes.

“What is it, boy?”

“She’s not at Nina’s. And she’ not at Marcus’.” he said, avoiding his mother’s gaze, ignoring her gasp.

“Then where is she?” your father asked.

James shuffled his feet, took a few deep breaths until the guilt overflowed his body. He looked up at his father with shame in his eyes, just before he answered: “I don’t know, dad. I don’t know.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #marauders #marauder imagine #marauders imagines #marauders era

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