#it's the grief and the everything else i know

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BIGGER THAN THE WHOLE SKY

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: while filming an emotional scene, y/n receives devastating news about her mum, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown on set as her boyfriend drew and their co-stars comfort her.

based on this ask !! thank you @xoxosblogsblog for another amazing request, a very emotional one to write as i’ve lost a parent, but it was therapeutic to write <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: death of a parent, crying, panic attack, descriptions of dissociating, grief, the cast being adorable :’), very angsty but a comforting ending !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N sat in her trailer, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror.

The makeup artists had just left, the remnants of their work leaving her looking polished, camera-ready. Her character was meant to be grieving in today’s scene, but they had only given her a touch of concealer, a dusting of powder to dull the shine of the lights, and a hint of smudged mascara to make it look like she had been crying.

She was supposed to pretend to be devastated.

The irony was almost cruel.

Her phone vibrated against the counter. She glanced down at the screen, expecting to see a message from Drew, maybe a reminder from the assistant director to head to set soon. Instead, her father’s name flashed across the screen.

Her stomach twisted.

It wasn’t like him to call during the day. He knew she was working, knew she was filming one of the biggest scenes of the season. A sudden chill crept up her spine, a visceral knowing before she even answered.

With slightly trembling fingers, she swiped to accept the call.

“Dad?” she answered, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her.

There was silence for a beat too long.

Her father was a strong man, always composed, always measured in his words. But when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, stripped of all its usual warmth.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and in just that one word, she felt her world tilt on its axis.

She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

Another pause. Then a sharp inhale, like he was bracing himself.

“It’s your mum,” he said, and the way his voice wavered sent ice coursing through her veins.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the phone. “What about her?”

His breath hitched, and then—

“She’s gone, love.”

The words didn’t compute. They didn’t make sense, didn’t fit into any conceivable reality she had prepared herself for.

“What?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“She passed away this morning.”

Her father’s voice was thick, like he was struggling to hold himself together. But she barely heard him now. The words looped in her mind, repeating over and over, yet still, she couldn’t understand them.

She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

That wasn’t possible. She had just spoken to her mum a few days ago. She had promised to visit after the season wrapped. She had plans with her, had texts left unanswered, had so many things left unsaid.

A strange ringing noise filled her ears, drowning out whatever else her father was saying. She felt the weight of her own body disappear, like she was floating outside of herself, detached and weightless.

Her vision blurred.

The room around her suddenly felt too small, too quiet. The air too thick.

“… I know you’re at work,” her father was saying, his voice distant, “and I don’t want to take you away from that. There’s nothing you can do right now, sweetheart. I’ll handle everything here. Just—just get through today, yeah? Then we’ll figure everything out.”

Get through today.

That was the only option, wasn’t it?

She would have to book flights, pack a bag, make arrangements—but none of that could happen now. If she left set immediately, what would she do? Sit in a hotel near the airport, trapped with nothing but her grief?

At least here, she had something to do.

At least here, she could pretend for a little longer.

She swallowed, her throat raw. “Okay.”

Her father hesitated. “Y/N—”

“I have to go,” she interrupted, her voice eerily calm.

“Sweetheart, wait—”

But she ended the call.

The phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the counter with a dull clack.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

She stared at the mirror, at the girl looking back at her—the girl who, ten minutes ago, had been fine. Normal. Whole.

Now, she felt like a cracked porcelain doll, barely held together, each fissure running deeper and deeper beneath the surface.

Her face remained passive, her lips slightly parted, her expression unreadable. But her eyes—her eyes gave her away.

She wasn’t there anymore.

She was somewhere else, floating through the spaces between reality and nothingness.

Her body felt heavy, yet she was untethered.

Her fingers curled against her lap, gripping onto the fabric of her costume as if that alone could keep her from slipping away entirely.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

Because if it was—

A soft knock at the door made her flinch.

“Five minutes to set!” called a PA from outside.

She blinked.

Five minutes.

A deep inhale. A slow exhale.

She forced herself to move, to pick up her phone, to smooth down her clothes. She had a job to do.

She pushed everything else aside, packed it into a box, sealed it tight.

She would grieve later.

For now, she would pretend.

She opened the door and stepped onto set, not realising that in just a few short minutes, the cracks in her facade would shatter completely.

—

The set of Outer Banks was alive with the usual buzz of controlled chaos—crew members adjusting lights, directors conferring in hushed tones, the distant hum of the ocean blending into the background. It was supposed to be just another day of filming, another scene to capture before moving on to the next.

It was a heavy one.

Her character had just lost her father. The Pogues were there, trying to comfort her, trying to remind her she wasn’t alone. Even Rafe—played by Drew—stood nearby, a complicated mix of emotions brewing in his expression. The cameras were rolling, capturing everything.

Y/N tried to focus, tried to remember her lines, but something inside her cracked wide open.

She felt the grief swell like a rising tide, swallowing her whole. It was too big, too raw, too real.

When she started crying, no one questioned it. She was an incredible actress—everyone knew that. The scene demanded tears, demanded heartbreak. But as her sobs grew heavier, more uncontrollable, the air on set shifted.

Rudy shot a glance towards Chase, brows furrowed. Madelyn, kneeling beside Y/N in the scene, squeezed her hand, her own eyes glassy with concern. Drew, standing just out of frame, felt his pulse quicken.

Something wasn’t right.

The way Y/N clutched at her chest, the way her breathing hitched, sharp and ragged—it wasn’t just acting anymore.

Still, the cameras kept rolling.

Adrenaline surged through Drew’s veins. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his instincts screaming at him to cut through the scene, to pull her out of whatever was happening. But he hesitated. Y/N was a professional. If this was her choice, if she was using real emotions to fuel the performance, he had to respect that.

Then she collapsed to her knees.

The sob that tore from her throat wasn’t scripted. It wasn’t crafted for the scene. It was pain—real, unfiltered pain.

That was when the director finally called, “Cut!”

But Y/N didn’t stop.

She was still sobbing, her body trembling, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. The cast and crew hesitated, frozen in the moment, unsure whether they should intervene.

Drew didn’t hesitate.

He was by her side in an instant, dropping to his knees, hands grasping her shoulders. “Hey, hey—Y/N, breathe. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t okay.

Her body was shaking so violently that she could barely hold herself upright. Tears streamed down her face, her expression twisted in anguish.

“Y/N,” Madelyn whispered, stroking her back. “What’s going on?”

“Someone get her water,” Chase called, already stepping forward.

Drew cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Love, talk to me.”

But she couldn’t.

The world around her blurred at the edges, the voices of her friends distant, muffled. She felt like she was floating—adrift in a sea of grief, unable to grasp onto anything solid.

“Come on, baby,” Drew pleaded, his own voice shaking now. “You’re scaring me.”

Y/N gasped for air, her chest constricting so tightly it hurt. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

Madelyn was rubbing soothing circles into her back, whispering soft reassurances, while Rudy and Jonathan exchanged worried glances. The crew had fallen into an uneasy silence, watching the scene unfold.

Finally, through the sobs, through the suffocating grief, Y/N forced out the words that shattered the air around them.

“My mum… she’s gone.”

Drew’s heart stopped.

The words didn’t register at first. He blinked at her, his grip tightening instinctively.

“What?” he breathed.

Y/N choked on another sob, pressing her hands to her face as if she could somehow block it all out.

“My dad called me before we filmed,” she whimpered. “She—she died. I—I didn’t know what to do—I thought I could just—” She gasped, shaking her head frantically. “I thought I could just get through the day, but—”

Drew didn’t let her finish.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse them together. She collapsed into him, gripping the fabric of his shirt with desperate hands.

The rest of the cast looked on, their own eyes brimming with emotion. Madelyn covered her mouth with her hands, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Jesus, Y/N…” Chase muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I—” Her voice broke again. “I couldn’t.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Drew murmured against her hair. His own eyes were wet now, his throat thick with emotion. “We’re here. I’m here.”

She let out a broken whimper, gripping him tighter.

Madelyn sat beside them, wrapping her arms around Y/N from behind. Rudy joined a moment later, then Jonathan, then Chase. A pile of bodies, all holding onto her, surrounding her with warmth, with love.

The weight of Y/N’s revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a sombre pall over the once-bustling set. The cast remained huddled around her, their collective warmth a fragile barrier against the encroaching chill of grief.

Drew held her as if anchoring her to the present, his fingers gently threading through her hair. “We’re here, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not alone.”

Madelyn, her own tears silently falling, whispered soothing words, her hand never leaving Y/N’s back. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re with you.”

Chase knelt beside them, his usual playful demeanour replaced with earnest concern. “Whatever you need, Y/N. We’re family.”

Rudy and Jonathan exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a shared resolve. “We’ll get through this together,” Jonathan said softly, his voice steady.

As Y/N’s sobs gradually subsided into quiet tremors, the director approached, his expression a mix of compassion and uncertainty. “Is there anything we can do?” he asked gently.

Drew looked up, his eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I think she needs some time. We… we need to get her home.”

The director nodded, understanding the unspoken request. “Of course. We’ll arrange for flights immediately. The production will cover all expenses.”

Y/N lifted her head, her eyes swollen and glassy. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“You’re not,” Madelyn insisted, squeezing her hand. “You’re family.”

The crew moved with quiet efficiency, making the necessary arrangements. Within the hour, flights were booked for Y/N and Drew to return to her hometown. The cast remained by her side, offering silent support as she navigated the haze of shock and sorrow.

As they prepared to leave, Y/N turned to her friends, her voice trembling. “Thank you… all of you.”

Chase stepped forward, enveloping her in a gentle embrace. “We’ll be here when you’re ready to come back.”

Rudy nodded, his eyes earnest. “Take all the time you need.”

Jonathan offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep things running smoothly here.”

Madelyn hugged her tightly, her voice breaking. “We love you.”

Drew took Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “Let’s go home,” he said softly.

As they departed, the set remained in a hushed stillness, a testament to the profound impact of shared grief and the strength of chosen family.

The grief wouldn’t disappear. The pain wouldn’t lessen. But in that moment, she wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a every emotional one, but i hope you all enjoy it !! my requests are still open until i go away on wednesday so please send some in :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[mononijikayu]

don’t they know it's the end of the world (cause you don’t love me anymore) — geto suguru.

You blinked, the knot in your chest tightening as you took in his face, his solemn expression that didn’t match the usual carefree look he wore. Was he already saying goodbye in some way? You shook your head slowly, the smile coming to your lips, though it carried a mixture of sadness and certainty. "Sugu, how could you even think about that?… I could never forget about you."  “It can happen, you know. Life happens.” He smiles in a small timid manner.   Your voice was soft, but there was no doubt in it. "No, you’re wrong. You’re the most important person in my life. How could I forget someone like you?"

GENRE: alternate universe - canon divergence;

WARNING/S: gen, afab! reader, angst, fluff, friendship, friends to lovers, eventual romance, slice of life, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, sad ending, physical touch, pet names (sugu, buttercup) mentioned character death, depression, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, internal conflict, post-hidden inventory at the end, letting go, break up, meeting each other again, depiction of childhood, depiction of romance, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, depiction of depression, mention of internal conflict, non! sorcerer reader, sorcerer! suguru;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: im soon back at university, so im rush writing everything and so im exhausted all the time too. so if im not updating, its because im probably regretting my life decisions. though, in any case, i will still publish as much as i can. im about two/three finished with valentines fics, but im tortured by sukuna because i have a standard with him and i can't escape it. anyway, i wrote this for suguru's birthday. he would have been thirty-five today!!! i hope you enjoy this fic!!! i love you all!!! see you on the sixth!!! <3

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IF YOU COULD DESCRIBE WONDER, IT WOULD BE BEING BY SUGURU’S SIDE. No one else could understand it, you like to think. What the two of you had, it was certainly a language made for two. It was a life that was built for the purpose of being known by you both. And you like to think that he feels the same way too.

You and Suguru had been together since you were kids, bound by an unspoken connection that neither of you ever questioned. Because, there was nothing to question about it. Nor could words even describe it all. It was too unique, too intriguing. And yet, it only belonged to the two of you.

It all started on a warm afternoon at the school playground, where laughter and shrieks filled the air as children ran around in endless games of tag. It was a long while ago, and yet it felt like yesterday to you. You could feel your eyes twitching as you watched from where you stood, permeating with desire and anxiety. 

You had been standing alone for a while, just a bit near the jungle gym, watching all the kids giggle and run about, with the zeal of youth dashing along with them.

As you watched them there with eager eyes, you kept wishing you could join in too, you wished you could run amok with joy too. But that heavy weight of fear blossoms your hesitation. It held you back from a lot of things, including making friends.

Yet, why wouldn’t you feel like this? You were new in town, and you didn’t know these kids. You didn't know any life lived in this place before you had come. Everything was new for you, as much as you were sure it would also be new to them. 

How would they even react to you, knowing you aren’t a familiar face they were already comfortable seeing? How would you interact with them, anyway? It’s not like you could just jump in and smile and just jump in easily? This is a sea and if you plunge so deep, you could drown. And you didn’t want that to happen. Not here, not when you were starting a new life. 

But then, that’s when he found you.

"Why are you just standing here?" a voice asked.

You turned to see a boy with dark hair, a little messy from running around, and warm, curious eyes. He wasn’t out of breath, despite the wild chase of tag that had just ended. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his tiny shorts, and he looked at you like he was trying to figure you out.

"I….I don’t know how to approach them." you muttered, kicking at a loose pebble. "I’m not sure how to come and tell them I want to play too, so I….."

Suguru blinked, then without hesitation, he grinned and reached out a hand to you. "I see…..Then let’s play together! I don’t care if you’re slow. I’ll just run at your speed, if that would make it easier on you."

Your eyes swiftly widened, surprised by the easy kindness in his voice. "Really?"

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "I’ll even let you tag me first."

That was the beginning of everything, that was certain.

During recess, the world belonged to just the two of you. You ran hand in hand across the playground, unbothered by who was faster or slower. You hummed little tunes under your breath, and he giggled at the way you always skipped a step ahead before doubling back to him. You hopped, he ran, and sometimes, in the joy of it all, you tripped over each other’s feet and tumbled into the dirt.

And if one of you scraped a knee? The other sat down beside them without hesitation. If you fell, Suguru would plop down next to you, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I’m not playing if you’re not playing. That’s just how it is!

And you would do the same for him, because what was the fun in anything if he wasn’t right there beside you?

Nothing was ever quite complete without each other.

It wasn’t a good day unless you were together.

Even as you grew older, nothing changed.

The playground turned into quiet walks home, but your hands still found each other without thinking.

"You still hold my hand like we’re kids, Sugu," you teased one afternoon, fingers laced together as you walked home. The sun hung low in the sky, spilling warm golden light over the quiet street. Your shadows stretched long behind you, linked together like a promise.

Suguru glanced down at your hands, his grip tightening just slightly. "Yeah? You don’t like it?"

You smiled, squeezing back. "I never said that, you know!"

His grin was soft but sure, a mirror of the way he had always been with you. "Good. Because you’re still my favorite person."

And really, wasn’t that all that mattered?

══════════════════

IF YOUR BIRTHDAY COULD BE A HOLIDAY, SUGURU WOULD MAKE SURE OF IT. Your birthday has always been special, you know that much. But now more than ever, especially because, for as long as you could remember, Geto Suguru had been by your side for most of it. Now, it was even more special than before. 

The years blurred together in a collage of memories: the laughter, the excitement, the simple moments that felt so big when they were shared with him. There were so many pictures, pictures of the two of you, year after year.

You were always together. His presence in every single one, a steady anchor through the passing time. One that was the only constant throughout the world that keeps on changing.

Whether it was the early mornings, when you both rushed around the house, throwing together last-minute gifts for each other in the midst of the chaos of birthday preparations, or the quiet evenings spent chatting under the stars, those moments were always colored by Suguru’s unique way of making everything feel more important. 

He never treated your birthday like just another day. To him, it was an event, something that deserved to be celebrated with the utmost care. After all, it was the day you were born—the day you were with him. And to Suguru, that meant the world.

He didn’t just show up for your birthday. 

No, he took it as seriously as he would a test. 

He planned it meticulously, down to the smallest detail, as though the day had to be perfect.

"I thought you might like this, buttercup!" he’d say with a grin, always just a little too proud of whatever thoughtful gift he managed to get you, even if you’d both picked it out together the day before. "I’m pretty sure you’ll love it." 

And every time, no matter how simple the gift, the thought behind it always felt like the most meaningful gesture.

On your birthday mornings, you’d wake up to the smell of something delicious.  The pancakes, bacon, whatever it was that he knew you’d love, always cooked with that special touch that made it taste even better. He would rush in, hands full of wrapped presents, bright eyes sparkling like a child eager to see your reaction. 

"You ready?" he’d ask, bouncing on his heels.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight— Geto Suguru, the one who always had his life together, who always so composed, turned into a ball of excitement for just one day.

Even in the evenings, as the day began to fade and the sky turned dark, you would find yourselves sitting together outside, wrapped in blankets under the stars. He’d listen to you talk about the year that had passed, what had changed, what had stayed the same while you both sat in comfortable silence, the kind only the two of you shared.

"Make a wish, okay?" he’d say when it was time to blow out the candles, the way he’d always said it every year. But there was something about the way he said it then, with that little smile on his face, as if he already knew your wish without needing to hear it.

Suguru didn’t need grand gestures. For him, it was always about the little things, the way he made sure your favorite song was playing when you entered the room, the way he’d insist on carrying your cake even though it was ridiculously heavy, the way he refused to let anyone else help you with the birthday prep, because it was his job to make sure everything was just right for you.

And he didn’t think it was just about the day itself. To Suguru, your birthday wasn’t just a celebration of your life; it was a reminder that you existed, that you were here, and that the world—his world—was just a little bit brighter because you were in it.

Every year, as he gave you your gift, no matter how big or small, you could always see that gleam in his eyes. The beautiful gleam that said. "This is important. This is you, this is us, and I’m going to make sure you feel special, because you are."

For Suguru, your birthday wasn’t just another day in the calendar. It was the day you were born—his day to remind you just how much you meant to him, and to celebrate the fact that, all these years later, you were still by his side. 

And when you looked back at all the memories, all those years of birthdays spent with him, you couldn’t help but smile. They weren’t just your birthdays, they were his to celebrate too.

He celebrated them just as fiercely, just as passionately, as if it were his own day to remember. Because, to Suguru, every birthday spent together was a blessing. And he never took that for granted.

But this year, it felt different.

Not because of the cake or the candles. Not because of the way your friends sang off-key, their voices melding into a perfect disaster. No, this year was different because, when the party had quieted down and the night was winding to a close, Suguru handed you a small, neatly wrapped box.

He was sitting beside you on the couch, his beautiful lilac eyes watching you closely as you held the box in your hands, the soft rustle of paper the only sound between you. You could only look at the beautiful box in front of you for the longest time. He clears his throat.

“Are you really not saying anything?”

You looked at him suspiciously, fingers hesitating over the ribbon. "You didn’t have to get me anything, Sugu."

"I wanted to, buttercup." he said simply, nudging the box closer. "Go on, open it."

So you did.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, the light catching on the fine chain, making it shimmer. But what caught your attention was the tiny charm hanging from it—a miniature book, small enough to rest in the center of your palm, its metal etched with tiny details that made it look like it had real pages inside.

You blinked up at him, surprise evident in your expression. "Sugu…"

He looked uncharacteristically shy, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s nothing fancy, but… I thought it’d be nice. Y’know, for us."

"For us?" you repeated, tracing your fingers over the book charm.

Suguru nodded, watching your reaction closely. "Yeah. Because we always read together. Because of all those afternoons spent sharing a book, arguing over who gets to turn the page first—"

"You always turn the page too fast, you know." you interrupted with a pout.

"And you always get distracted by random things in the margins, buttercup." he shot back, smirking. “We’re both not good at it.”

You huffed. "That’s called appreciating the details, Suguru."

"Sure, sure." he laughed, shaking his head. "Anyway, that’s the first one."

You tilted your head. "First?"

He reached over, taking your wrist gently in his hands as he fastened the bracelet around it, his touch careful, warm. "Every birthday from now on, I’m giving you a charm. One for each year. Something that means something to us."

Your breath caught for a moment.

"You’re serious?" you asked, looking up at him.

Suguru met your gaze, his expression unwavering. "Completely." Then, with a lopsided grin, he added. "You’re stuck with me for a long time, you know."

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. Everything about you just felt warm, especially when you looked at it, knowing he put a lot of thought on this beautiful present. The bracelet felt light on your wrist, but the promise it carried felt heavier. This was solid, real, unshakable. Just like your relationship with him, ironclad for all your lives.

"Good." you said, squeezing his hand before letting go. "Because I wouldn’t want it any other way."

And back then, with Geto Suguru beside you, his promise wrapped around your wrist and his warmth wrapped around your heart, you believed it.

You really, really did.

══════════════════

ALL BIRTHDAYS ARE HAPPY, WELL THEY SHOULD BE. But this morning, this birthday of yours, it was not something that just truly felt odd. You had tried to put it off, knowing that it wasn’t the right place or time to talk about it. You could feel it, you know you do. Something was wrong with your best friend. 

Geto Suguru had been unusually quiet all day, even when he was trying to be casual and jolly, smiling at you. But you knew there was something going on and you couldn't put your finger on why. The excitement of the day had dulled a little, as the two of you moved through the motions of cake and presents, but something in the air felt different.

It wasn’t until later that afternoon when everything changed.

You had walked him to the train station, like you always did, ever since he moved to another part of the city. Though this time, there was an unspoken weight that drowned between you, a heaviness that neither of you could shake. Geto Suguru, usually so confident and carefree, seemed distant, his usual smile a little more strained.

"I got in." he said, as the train pulled up to the station, his voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow carrying the weight of his words.

You paused, unsure of what he meant at first. "Got in?"

He nodded, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze. "To Jujutsu High School. I’m going to Tokyo."

Your heart skipped, the reality of the situation sinking in like ice water. 

He was going to leave you, you were going to be separated. 

Your Suguru was heading to Tokyo to train, on the other side of your world.

For the first time in years, you wouldn’t be by each other’s side every day. The thought was almost impossible to process. Not when you had been together for so long, just being bubbles in each other’s circle. Your lips parted, you wanted to say something. But you didn’t know what. You were too stunned to speak. 

"Wait, you’re leaving? When?" you whispered, your voice suddenly became small. 

“Tomorrow.” He whispered, his tone almost blossoming with shame. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t….I didn’t want to ruin the time and I didn't think it was going to come any time soon, but it just….”

"But… but today’s my birthday, Sugu."

Suguru gave you a sad smile, his hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I know. I’m sorry. But it’s not goodbye forever, okay? We’ll keep in touch, I promise."

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it hard to speak. Suguru was your rock, your constant. The thought of him being so far away, in a completely different city, felt like the world was shifting beneath your feet.

He took a step closer to you, lowering his voice. "I didn’t want to leave without giving you something special." He pulled out a small box from his pocket, holding it out to you. 

You took it from his warm hands, your eyes brimming with questions. When you opened it, a soft gasp escaped your lips. Inside was a new charm for your bracelet—a delicate purple colored buttercup, its petals etched with such fine detail that it looked almost real. It was beautiful. And soulful. Almost glistening as brightly as his eyes.

He smiled gently, a warmth in his eyes as he slipped the charm onto your bracelet. "It’s a buttercup," he said softly. "My nickname for you. So I thought…I thought it would be perfect."

You stared at the charm for a moment, the lump in your throat thickening. "You still call me that…"

Suguru’s smile grew tender. "Always will. And whenever you look at it, I want you to think of me, okay? Think of me often."

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill and smiled back at him. "I will, Sugu. I promise."

He pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close for just a moment longer than usual. "Take care of yourself, alright? And don’t forget—I’m just a train ride away. Osaka is not that far. So when you need me, call me. Okay?"

“Okay.” You squeezed him back, trying to imprint the moment into your memory, trying to hold onto the feeling of him next to you. "I won’t forget. I’ll think of you every day."

Suguru pulled away slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face. "I know you will."

The train’s loud engine roared to brutish life, and the sound of the wheels on the tracks made your chest tighten even further. You watched Suguru stand by the window.

His beautiful face illuminated by the soft afternoon light as the train slowly started to pull away. Your feet felt rooted to the ground, your mind racing with so many things you wanted to say, things you didn’t know how to say.

But before you could stop yourself, something inside you snapped. You took a step forward, then another, and then you were running, your heart pounding heavily in your chest, your breath coming faster as you pushed yourself harder, faster, chasing the train like you could somehow outrun the fear that gripped your heart.

"Suguru!" you called out, your voice shaking, but loud enough for him to hear.

He turned around in surprise, his eyes wide as he saw you running toward him. The train was moving faster now, but he didn’t hesitate. You could see how his face lit up with a mix of disbelief and hope, his hand pressed against the window.

"Sugu!" you shouted again, your heart racing even harder, your legs moving as if they had a will of their own. The distance between you seemed so large, but you weren’t going to stop.

He leaned closer to the window, his hand now reaching out, as if trying to touch you through the glass. You could see the concern on his face, his bright lilac eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but it made you move faster, faster than you thought you could.

When you finally reached the side of the train, you stopped just short of losing your breath. You pressed your hands to your chest, feeling your heart pounding, and you looked up at him, eyes shining.

"I love you, Suguru!" you blurted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Geto Suguru froze, his eyes wide in astonishment, as though he hadn’t expected you to say it—that particular thing, not now, not like this. You watched him, your heart hanging in the air between you, waiting for his reaction, wondering if you had made a mistake.

But then, his expression softened, and a smile broke through the surprise. It wasn’t just a smile you see. It was his smile, that beautiful smile that only belonged to you. The one that made everything feel like it would be okay, no matter what. He nodded slowly, a little chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned closer to the window, as if pulling you in even from a distance.

"I love you too, buttercup!" he said, his voice full of warmth, his eyes soft but certain.

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy was lifted, the weight of the unspoken tension, the distance between you, all of it faded into the background of that moment. You smiled back at him, breathless but relieved, and the world around you seemed to slow down.

The train started to pick up speed again, and Suguru gave you one last look, his smile still lingering as he waved.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the train.

"I will!" you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll always think of you."

And with that, the train pulled away, leaving you standing there, heart full, the buttercup charm on your bracelet gleaming softly in the fading light. 

That train carried your heart with him.

But you were sure that you held his heart here too.

You looked at your buttercup charm, smiling.

“Come back to me soon, okay?”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT HOW MUCH HE HAD CHANGED. And all he could do was wish that you didn’t see it, that you would never find out the truth. All he could pray for was that you didn’t notice the light in his eyes dying or the bitterness of the taste from the curses he was forced to consume still on his tongue.  

Geto Suguru has always been a powerful force of nature, a rock withstanding everything in his way. In a way, he was also your rock, your steady presence in your life. No matter what was happening around him, he was there, unwavering, holding everything together with that quiet strength of his. 

But recently, something in him had started to shift. Something he wasn’t prepared to admit to just yet. Ever since Amanai Riko’s death, the change had been subtle at first, there were those small signs that he was struggling, pulling away just a little more each day. But now, as the days passed, it became harder to ignore.

Geto Suguru was slipping.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

He didn’t know how to be more than this.

He didn’t know the way out of it.

He found himself lost in a fog of thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate, his emotions tangled in a web he couldn't find a way out of. The burden of loss weighed heavily on him, crushing him in ways he didn’t know how to handle. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let you see it. Not today. Not on your birthday. Not on your last day together.

He had made it a point, from the moment you walked into the room, to be the Suguru you knew. He plastered on that familiar smile, spoke to you like everything was fine, and made sure the day went on like any other. 

But the moment you looked away, or when you laughed, or when he caught you looking at him with that softness in your eyes, a heaviness settled deep in his chest. He wanted to say something, to tell you what was really happening, but the words felt like they were caught in his throat, unable to escape.

You had no idea what he was battling inside.

And he couldn’t bear to burden you with it—not on your special day.

It was the evening, the sun sinking low in the sky, and you both sat together on the balcony of his apartment, watching the colors in the sky shift from gold to deep blue. The breeze was warm, and you had your head resting on his shoulder, the same way you had for years. You both sat there in a comfortable silence, but Suguru’s mind was anywhere but there.

"I’m really glad we could spend the day together, Sugu." you said softly, your voice like a melody that brought him back to the present. “Thank you for coming to visit me, even with your busy schedule.”

Suguru nodded, his smile barely there as he kept his gaze on the horizon, afraid if he looked at you too long, you would see the cracks he was trying to hide. "Me too, buttercup." he said, but even to his own ears, the words didn’t sound right. They didn’t carry the weight they should have.

You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, the way he wasn’t fully present. He wasn’t the Geto Suguru you knew, the Sugu who would always make you laugh, who would hold you close and whisper silly things to keep your spirits high. He was distant, almost like a shadow of himself. And you knew he hated it, even without saying it to you.

"Sugu." you said quietly, sitting up to look at him, your hand gently touching his arm. "You okay?"

Suguru flinched, the question catching him off guard. He gave a small, forced laugh, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. I’ve….been very busy."

But you didn’t buy it. You knew him better than anyone else, and you could see the lie in his eyes. But he wasn’t ready to talk, not now, not on the day that was meant to be yours, not on the day that he wanted to protect you from his own chaos. He didn’t want you to see him like this, not when everything was supposed to be perfect.

He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to be the Geto Suguru you deserved, the Geto Suguru that you love, the Geto Suguru you knew. But the weight of the world felt like it was crushing him from the inside, and he didn’t know how to hold it together anymore. 

You reached up to touch his cheek, the gesture so simple but full of the warmth you had always shared. "Sugu… you don’t have to hide from me. Not now. Not ever."

He froze at your touch, his lilac eyes shutting softly, even for just a brief second. He wanted to let it all go, wanted to break down in front of you, but he couldn’t. Not like this. Not today. He swallowed hard, the words choking him before he could even say them.

"I’m fine." he repeated, but there was no conviction in his voice. “Really, buttercup. Don’t worry so much about me, okay?”

You didn’t push him further, but the sadness in his once bright eyes told you everything you needed to know. He was breaking inside, but he didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want to talk about it just yet. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. And especially not on your last day together.

"Okay." you whispered softly, leaning back against his shoulder once more, both of you falling into silence again.

But Geto Suguru knew. He knew that you would always see through him. And as you sat there, so close, yet so far from what was really happening, he couldn’t help but feel like he was losing grip on everything. He thought he was losing himself, you, on the life you had dreamed of sharing.

And so, the night passed in a quiet sadness, Suguru’s heart heavy with emotions he couldn’t quite express. Tomorrow, he will leave. Tomorrow, everything will change. He knew that all too well. By sunrise, you wouldn’t recognize him anymore. By sunrise, he wouldn’t be your Sugu anymore. 

But for tonight, he would hold onto this—hold onto you, and pretend that everything was okay, just for a little while longer. He thinks he could pretend one last time and keep you with him, enjoying the need of warmth that only you could understand.

The evening air was still, the world outside quieting as the stars began to prick the darkening sky. You sat together for a little while, as you waited for the train to come. Geto Suguru’s silence was heavy, but there was a soft, almost palpable tenderness in the way he was beside you. It was always that way, when he was beside you. Even when you were kids.

But the silence was a new thing. This silence was so loud, and yet so deafening. Yet you also didn’t bridge the gap. At least not tonight. He didn’t need it right now and you can tell. You just took a deep breath and waited, staring off the train tracks. 

Your Suguru seemed lost in his own thoughts, his calloused fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the railing in front of you, his lilac gaze ever so lost in the faraway space. To the place you could not follow.

But you knew it was just his way of trying to hold everything in. Then, after a moment that felt like eternity, he broke the quiet, his voice soft but steady, like he was trying to make it sound casual when it wasn’t. 

"I got you something, buttercup." he said, his hand reaching into his pocket. You looked up at him, noticing the faintest tremor in his fingers, but you didn't comment on it.

He pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box, offering it to you with a look that was a mix of hesitation and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words. "I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something… meaningful. Like always."

You took the box from him, your little heart fluttering a little in anticipation, not knowing what to expect. Slowly, you unwrapped it with much care, your tender fingers gently peeling back the layers until you saw what was inside.

It was a charm, delicate and beautiful, with a tiny forget-me-not flower carved into its surface. The petals were soft, yet detailed, their edges just slightly raised as if to give them life, to make them feel real. The forget-me-not. It was simple but meaningful, and somehow, it felt like it held everything unsaid between you two in one small, fragile flower.

Suguru’s voice broke the moment, barely above a whisper, but heavy with emotion. "I want you to always remember me, buttercup." he said, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t place. "No matter what happens, no matter where life takes us, never forget about me."

You froze for a heartbeat, confusion washing over you at his words. Never forget about him?

The thought didn’t make sense. Geto Suguru was more than just a memory; he was the person who had shaped so much of your life, the one who had been there for you through everything. He was your everything. How could you forget him?

You blinked, the knot in your chest tightening as you took in his face, his solemn expression that didn’t match the usual carefree look he wore. Was he already saying goodbye in some way?

You shook your head slowly, the smile coming to your lips, though it carried a mixture of sadness and certainty. "Sugu, how could you even think about that?… I could never forget about you." 

“It can happen, you know. Life happens.” He smiles in a small timid manner.  

Your voice was soft, but there was no doubt in it. "No, you’re wrong. You’re the most important person in my life. How could I forget someone like you?"

Suguru’s lilac eyes softened at your words, the weight of the moment easing just a little as you spoke. His chapped lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but he only let out a quiet, relieved breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time that evening.

He reached out, gently placing the forget-me-not charm on your bracelet, his fingers lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. "I just… I need to know you’ll always remember. Even when we’re apart.”

"I will, I promise." you said, your voice firm, the sincerity in your words reaching the deepest parts of him. "I’ll always think of you. Every single day, every single hour. Even the seconds. I’ll always remember you, Suguru. You’re too important to forget."

“Is that so?”

You hummed, smiling at him. “Hm. Because I love you.”

For a brief, tender moment, Suguru’s eyes seemed to shine with something that wasn’t just sadness but relief. It was as if the weight of the unspoken fears, the guilt, and the pain he’d been carrying had finally started to lift, just a little. He smiled, a real, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes.

"Good," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "That’s all I need to hear."

And there, under the stars, with the sound of the world fading into a quiet lull, you both sat together. You didn’t need words to fill the silence that had settled between you. The charm on your bracelet was a promise, a symbol of everything you had been through, everything you had shared, and everything that was still to come.

"I love you too, buttercup." Suguru whispered, his voice barely above a breath, but the words carried so much weight, so much meaning that it felt like the whole world had shifted in that instant.

You didn’t hesitate, not for a second. "I know, Sugu. I know." you replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, a smile that only he could make appear. 

It was a statement, but one that wasn’t born out of arrogance. It was the truth. The truth that had been there all along, between the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the years of growing together. He was your constant, just as you were his.

And you had always known, known in the very marrow of your bones.

he loved you too. More than anything in life. More than the universe could know.

Suguru didn’t immediately respond. He simply stared at you, his gaze softening with an intensity that almost made it hard to breathe. He shifted closer, his hands rising slowly, as if afraid that if he moved too fast, you would vanish in an instant. His fingers brushed against the curve of your jaw before they settled on your cheeks, warm and grounding.

His touch was gentle, the weight of his hands steady against your skin, as though he was afraid to touch you too hard, afraid that any sudden movement would make you slip through his fingers.

His gaze never wavered from your face, and for a long moment, it was like the world faded away. There was nothing but the two of you, him, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence, and you, feeling like the universe had shrunk to this moment.

Suguru’s eyes searched for yours, his expression both tender and filled with something deeper, something that only someone who had loved you for so long could understand. It was as though he was memorizing every detail of you.

The way the light caught in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the soft flutter of your lashes when you blinked. He took in your features like he was afraid they would slip away, like time was running out and he couldn’t afford to miss a single second of it.

His thumb traced the outline of your cheekbone, the movement so soft it almost tickled, but it was full of reverence. As if you were something sacred to him, something irreplaceable. As if you were the most important pearl of the world, shining in front of him, making him your sea. 

"You’re so beautiful, buttercup." he whispered, and the words held so much more than just a compliment. It was the way he said them, as if he had seen every side of you—your strengths, your flaws, your heart—and still, in every corner of it, you were beautiful to him. 

The simplicity of the words took your breath away, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You just looked at him, feeling the weight of his love like a gentle embrace, like it wrapped around your heart, holding it safe in his hands.

You didn’t need to speak to feel the truth of it all. This moment, this space between you, felt like the entire universe had conspired to bring you to this point, where everything you had shared and everything you had yet to share hung in the balance of this silent exchange.

Suguru leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the way his body was still, but there was a pulse of something deep inside him, something he wasn’t fully ready to let go of, not yet. And in that breathless, delicate space, you let your own heart speak.

"I love you, Sugu." you whispered back, your voice trembling just slightly, but filled with a certainty that made everything else fade into the background.

His hands cupped your face a little tighter, his thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world. "I’ll never forget you, buttercup." he murmured, almost as if he was saying it to himself, but you heard it. “You’re everything I am. Everything I breathe.”

The weight of it hung in the air, and though his words were bittersweet, you felt a flicker of hope in them.

"I’ll never forget you either." you whispered, your voice steady and sure, despite the turmoil swirling within you.

Because you knew that no matter where life took you both, Suguru would always be a part of you. No amount of time or distance could change that. “You’re my everything too.”

You leaned into his touch, your foreheads pressing gently together, the warmth of his hands grounding you both in the moment. His lilac eyes closed for a beat, a soft sigh escaping him as if he, too, was trying to hold on to this feeling, trying to commit it to memory just as you were.

And for that brief moment, there was no goodbye. There was only the now, the shared stillness, the love between you both, wrapped up in the quiet understanding that no matter what happened, you would always carry each other with you.

He moved his face closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead. The kiss was light, like a promise, a silent vow that this love, this sacred bond between the two of you, it would never truly be broken, no matter the miles between you.

Suguru’s lips linger on your forehead for a moment longer, a soft, lingering warmth that makes everything else feel distant, as if time had slowed down just for the two of you.

The world outside the station, the sound of the train tracks, the noises of the city, the ticking of the clock, everything seemed muted, fading into the background as you both existed in this fragile, perfect bubble of quiet.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes soft but laden with an unspoken weight. He looked like he wanted to say something more, something important, but the words never quite formed. 

Instead, he just studied your face, as if he was trying to memorize everything about you. Every little memory of you, your bright expression, the way your long hair fell around your face, the way your eyes held a kindness that had always been there, even in the most difficult of times.

“I’ll miss you.” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, a subtle crack breaking through the calm facade he’d been trying so hard to maintain.

You nodded, your heart aching as his words sank in. The truth was, you would miss him too, more than you could ever put into words. You couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without him so close, without his constant presence to steady you.

The thought of the distance between you both made the space around you feel colder, as though the warmth of his touch was already slipping through your fingers.

“I’ll miss you too, Sugu. More than you know.” you whispered back, the truth of it making your voice tremble just slightly.

He smiled, a sad, bittersweet thing, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw once more, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

"Just remember, buttercup." he murmured, his eyes soft but intense. "No matter where we are, no matter how far apart we get, I’ll always be with you. I’ll always be there, in everything we’ve shared."

"I know." you said, nodding again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And I’ll always carry a piece of you with me. In my heart.”

Geto Suguru’s breath caught at your words, his eyes glistening as if he wanted to say something more, but the emotion was too much, too overwhelming. Instead, he just leaned in and kissed your forehead once more, gentle but full of all the feelings he couldn’t quite express.

“I’ll be waiting, buttercup.” he whispered, his voice low, but there was a fierce determination behind it. “No matter how long it takes. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You looked up at him, your heart full, eyes brimming with something that could have been tears if you let it. You didn’t speak for a moment, just held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle into you like a warm, comforting blanket.

Finally, you smiled through the lump in your throat, the quiet sadness blending with something softer, something hopeful. "I’ll come back to you, Sugu. I promise. So come back to me too, okay?"

The words hung between you, a promise sealed in the silence that followed. 

He can’t promise something like that to you, not like this now. 

By sunrise, he can no longer come back to you, never again.

And yet, he still does, he lets this promise be unfulfilled.

He lets this moment be a little white lie to keep your smile.

Suguru nodded, a small, hopeful smile on his lips, but his eyes, those dark, familiar eyes, held a quiet ache. He didn’t say anything else, just stayed close, his hand still on your cheek, his presence steady even though the moment was winding down. The night was still, and it felt like time was slipping away too fast.

“I should go, buttercup.” Suguru said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "But I’ll see you again, right? You’ll visit me when you can, won’t you?"

You nodded, already knowing how much this meant to him. You smiled tenderly at him, you smiled at him like you loved him. You smiled at him like he deserves to have it. And yet he doesn’t. The devil does not deserve such a thing.

"Of course I will." you reassured him, reaching up to touch his hand, the one that had stayed on your cheek. "I won’t let you forget about me."

His smile grew just a little, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of peace in his eyes. "I could never forget about you."

And with that, he gave you one last kiss on the forehead, light and full of everything unsaid, full of everything you would carry with you in your heart. He pulled back slowly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your hand.

His fingers lingering for a moment longer, as though reluctant to let go. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and made his way toward the door. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want this to be the last time. But he had to. He had to go.

He let himself step into it, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, you felt the weight of the world shift. The quiet that followed his departure felt louder than any noise, and yet, somehow, you knew you’d be okay. You’d carry him with you, just like you promised.

The night grew darker, but the small forget-me-not charm on your bracelet caught the light, reminding you of everything you had shared. It was more than just a memory, it was a piece of him that you could hold on to, no matter where life took you both.

Geto Suguru was always going to be a part of you. And no matter the distance, no matter how much time passed, you would never forget him. He was the most important part of your life, and that would never change.

Two days later, you got the call.

He had gone missing, his parents were gone.

And you?

You had lost the love of your life.

That was his goodbye.

══════════════════

epilogue

A LONG TIME HAD COME AND GONE, BUT IT STILL FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY. Seven years had passed since Geto Suguru’s defection from the jujutsu society, since the time he turned away from everything he once held dear. Time had blurred the edges of the past for everyone except him. 

He had tried to move on, he knew he had to. He had all but tried to bury his memories deep enough so that they no longer haunted him. But there were days when everything came rushing back to him.

The horror on his parents faces that night, their deaths at his own hands, the ones he had betrayed, the village consumed by blue flame. And then there was you, the love he had lost and left. The one he had let go and fly away.

From the shadows, Suguru watched you kneel before the graves, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet cemetery. You were gentle with the flowers, your movements soft as you arranged the bouquets on the gravestones, your fingers careful as they brushed away the dust that had accumulated over time. 

He had never imagined, in his darkest moments, that he would see you here—so close, yet so far away from everything he had become. But there you were, tending to the graves of the parents he had killed, as if it was something he had never been able to do. You were doing it for him, in a way, even though you didn’t have to.

He had heard the stories about it all. He had to keep his tabs on you, he just couldn’t stay away, even now. Throughout the years, he heard whispers of how you had married, how you had continued on without him, a life of your own.

He had known that it was bound to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier. To see you with a ring on your finger, a life that no longer had a place for him, a life that had moved on while he stayed stuck in his past.

The soft rustle of the wind moved through the trees, and that was when you turned your head, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You blinked, as if you weren’t quite sure you were seeing him, but then there was no mistaking it.

Geto Suguru was standing there, just outside the cemetery gate, watching you with that same quiet intensity that had always been his. The world seemed to hold its breath as you slowly rose to your feet, the weight of his gaze pulling you in.

He didn’t speak at first, not knowing what to say. 

After all this time, what was there left to say?

He had left you and you had suffered.

What could someone who broke their promise say?

You walked toward him, your expression unreadable but steady, your steps purposeful. As you got closer, he noticed the glint of sunlight on your finger, and his breath hitched before he could stop himself. The wedding ring.

It was a beautiful thing, one could say. But when he looked at it, it was all but a bitter ugly, disgusting thing. It was a reminder of the life you had. A life he had never been a part of, a life he had given up on when he made the choices he did. 

You stopped in front of him, your gaze unwavering. You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face, almost as if you were still trying to figure him out after all this time. "I didn’t think you’d come back here." you said quietly, your voice thick with something he couldn’t place. Maybe it was sorrow. Maybe it was a relief.

Suguru felt a pang in his chest, but he swallowed it down. "I didn’t think I would either." His voice was rough, almost foreign to him after so many years of silence, but the words still carried weight. "But... here I am."

Your gaze flickered to the bracelet on your wrist—the one with the forget-me-not, the buttercup, the book charm. It was a silent progression that told a story. A long forgotten story, one that only you and him could remember. It was at one point his story. His presence, his absence, his love. And now it wasn’t. Not anymore.

That Geto Suguru is dead.

All that remains is an imposter.

All that remains is a devil.

"I never took it off." you said, a small, sad smile playing at the corner of your lips. "You told me to never forget you. I thought I would, after all these years... but I never could." 

Your fingers traced the charms lightly, the memory of the years that had passed between you both lingering in the air like a ghost. "I couldn’t take it off, Suguru. Not even when it felt like I should."

He couldn’t quite hide the sadness that flickered in his eyes at your words, but he didn’t look away. He had been the one to leave. He had been the one to make all the wrong decisions, and yet, somehow, you had never given up on him. You had never completely forgotten him.

Suguru reached into his pocket slowly, his movements deliberate, as though he were unsure of his next step. He pulled out a small charm, delicate and beautiful, white chrysanthemums this time, it was an offering of something new, something that said goodbye and hello being said like it was the same word.  He held it out to you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"For you." he whispered, his voice barely audible, but full of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. "I know it’s too late. But I want you to have it."

You took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for just a heartbeat before you looked down at the charm in your palm. The white chrysanthemums were soft, intricate, and they reminded you of the fleeting nature of everything. It was full of the memories, the love, the pain.

You smiled, a bittersweet curve of your lips, your heart heavy with a mixture of emotions that you had long buried. "Sugu….Suguru." you began, your voice steady but thick with something he could almost taste. "For so long, TYou wanted to be remembered. But now... you want to be forgotten."

His heart clenched at your words, but he nodded slowly, as if he had already known, as if it was something he could never change. "You deserve better than to remember a ghost of someone long gone, buttercup." he said, his voice soft but full of the kind of finality that only a ghost could understand. "You deserve a life that’s yours, not one haunted by me."

The distance between you seemed so vast in that moment, even though you were standing right in front of him. The years had stretched that gap wide, and yet, in this final moment, you both understood each other completely. 

You stood there, the weight of his words heavy between you both, as the space around you seemed to quiet. The cool breeze rustled the trees, the only sound in the air, but even it felt like a distant whisper against the rawness of the moment.

You opened your mouth, a million things on the tip of your tongue, but none of them felt right. Your heart was full of so much you couldn’t put into words. A thousand emotions flooded your chest/

And yet, you felt an aching kind of clarity in his request. You hadn’t expected it. You hadn’t expected him to say those words, to say that he wanted you to forget him. To leave him behind as if he were nothing more than a faded memory.

He stood before you, his back slightly turned, but he didn’t move away. His eyes, those dark, familiar eyes, were locked onto the distance, as though he was already gone in his mind, already on his way to somewhere far from this place, from you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering over his face, trying to catch any hint of a smile, of the warmth that had once been there between you both. But it was gone. Everything had long perished to nothing.

The man in front of you wasn’t the same person you had known all those years ago, and deep down, you knew that neither were you. You had both changed, time had done its work, and the world had swept you in different directions.

"So, if I see you again—" you started, unsure of where to take the conversation, unsure of whether there even was a conversation left to have.

Suguru’s smile was sad, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it tugged at your heart more than anything else. “Pass by, buttercup.” he said, his voice so soft, so worn. "Don’t look at me. You shouldn’t remember me. Just...."

Let me go. He thinks to himself. Don't love me again.

The simplicity of his request hit you harder than any words of anger or resentment could have. You shouldn’t remember me. He was asking you, begging you, to forget him. As though he was a shadow, a passing thing, unworthy of your attention, of your love, of your memories.

For a moment, you just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind spinning with the weight of it all. You wanted to shout, to argue, to tell him that he was wrong—that you couldn’t just erase him from your life like he was nothing.

But the silence in the air, the finality in his tone, made you hesitate. It wasn’t anger you heard in his voice. It wasn’t even regret. It was something else entirely. it was something deeper, something rooted in the pain he had carried all these years.

“I can’t just forget you.” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The truth was raw and simple, and it echoed in your chest as it passed through your lips. "I’ve carried you with me for so long, Suguru. I can’t just erase you from my life."

Suguru turned his head slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t guilt or anger, but something quieter, something softer, as though he was bracing himself for the weight of what he had just asked you to do.

"You don’t need to carry me anymore." he said, his voice barely audible, each word dragging with the weight of a thousand regrets. "I don’t deserve to be remembered. Not by you. Not by anyone. I’ve become someone else, someone I never meant to be." 

His eyes drifted to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost... defeated. "I hurt too many people, and in the end, I hurt you too."

Those words hung in the air like a star waiting to fall from the sky but they didn’t sting, nor did they cause you any pain. Instead, they felt like the closing of a door, the end of a chapter that had been written in too much pain. You felt your heart ache, but you understood. You had mourned it long ago and this was just the end. The final bow.

You understood because, deep down, you had always known this moment would come. You had always known that one day, Geto Suguru would fade from your life, not because of time or distance, but because he had made himself into something unrecognizable.

You stepped closer, closer than you had been in so many years, the distance between you two now defined not by physical space but by something more profound, something that time had created. Your hand reached out but you stopped. You had to. You knew you can't do this. You purse your lips into a flat line. 

“I see.” You whispered, barely audible over the deafening silence between you. It was as if the world had swallowed your words before they could reach him, and the weight of it all pressed down on your chest like a heavy fog.

"I'm sorry." you murmured, feeling the familiar sting of regret in your heart. 

But the words felt useless now, just as they always had when it came to him. Too many apologies, too many unanswered questions. It was all too late. Geto Suguru shook his head ever so slightly, his dark lilac eyes never leaving the distance beyond you, his voice low but firm. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” he murmured, the edges of his words soft but carrying a weight that made your heart ache. "I should apologize…"

His eyes finally met yours, and for that brief moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded that he had never allowed anyone to see.

“Buttercup, I’m letting your hand go.” he said, and his voice cracked on the last word, like it pained him to even say it.

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, threatening to spill, but you fought them back, the lump in your throat making it harder to breathe. It was too much. Too much to lose, too much to let go of. 

“I know.” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it all more real. The finality of his words clung to the air, and you wished you could take them back, take him back, but the truth had already been laid bare.

“Goodbye, buttercup.” he said, the words both tender and final, and they fell like a stone into the abyss between you.

“Good… good-bye, Suguru.” you managed to choke out, your voice shaking but steady enough to carry the weight of the moment. Your lips trembled, but you didn’t dare look away from him. There was nothing more to say, nothing more that could fix the pieces that had been shattered between you two.

Geto Suguru gave you one last look. It was so brief, so fleeting, like the last ray of light before the darkness settled in. His gaze lingered on you, a final connection between two souls that had once shared everything but now, they were a thousand miles apart. 

He didn’t say anything else. 

He didn’t look back, not once. 

He simply turned, his figure growing smaller and smaller as he walked away.

Your heart tightened, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. There was no running after him anymore. He had already made his choice, and you had to respect that, even though it felt like a piece of you was being torn away with every step he took. 

His footsteps were quiet against the earth, a soft rhythm that carried him further into the distance, further away from you, from everything you had ever known. And you stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to make sense of the emptiness that filled the space where his presence used to be. 

You watched him disappear into the horizon, the last connection between you both unraveling like a thread slipping through your fingers. But this time, you didn’t chase after him. You didn’t need to. You didn’t have the strength anymore. 

There were no more promises, no more hopes of reunion. This was the end of the story that had once been yours, the final chapter in a love that had burned so brightly but had faded into the past. The world had changed, and so had you.

You would never see him again. He would never hold your hand again, never smile that gentle smile that had always made you feel like you were home. And you could feel the weight of that truth pressing down on you, but it didn’t break you.

It was the end of that world. Of the two of you, of the way you had been, of everything that once felt like it was meant to be. And so, you let go. You let go, even as it hurt, even as it felt like the most impossible thing in the world.

You couldn’t love him anymore. Not like you used to. Not in the way that kept him a part of your every thought, every moment. You couldn’t carry that burden with you forever, and you couldn’t make him stay.

As he disappeared completely from sight, you finally exhaled the breath you’d been holding, a quiet sigh that seemed to carry away the remnants of him still lingering in your chest. It wasn’t easy. It would never be easy. But it was the only way forward.

You took a slow step back, your feet heavy with the weight of all the years you had spent loving him. You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew one thing for certain. You had to let him, or you'll both suffer more.

[bestworstcase]

Tbh I can only imagine the rage Salem might feel on Oz's behalf once she finds out Light manipulated and trapped him into the task Light gave him, and that he has no choice in coming back (assuming she doesn't know that it isn't his choice). I think finding out he's essentially been trapped in a prison (the prison being the fucked up cycle of life/death/rebirth and the Mandate) this entire time would give her extra incentive to, presumably (if that's her goal), overthrow the tyrants that are the gods.

And honestly I think that would really show Oz that yes, Salem does still love him and care about him (quietly slides over Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from EPIC the Musical). Ugh I just want them to make uppp they mean everything to me. I need that reconciliation arc sm. And sighs. Salem saving Ozma from his metaphorical tower like how Ozma saved Salem from hers :( i want them to at least be friends again. There's sm they have to talk about and make up for

in all honesty i think her immediate reaction is more likely to be anguished guilt than fury, because the god of light deftlymanipulated her into acting as the lock on ozma's cage. it's been evident since 6.3 that salem already feels an immense burden of self-blame and guilt and in v8 we see, with cinder, salem turn on a dime while articulating a very precise and accurate understanding of why cinder acted as she did in response to the way salem treated her.

(and i do also think ozma's view that salem is at least partially responsible for what the brothers did to her and to the world may be, ultimately, because she told the story that way: if salem really did hesitate to tell him parts of it at first because she feared ozma would reject her, then it follows she felt ashamed and guilty, and feeling that way would undoubtedly color her account.) 

and in 6.4, the one time in the present we've ever seen salem truly lose her temper, what happens? she sends everyone else out of the room and self-harms. the windows shatter inward—the scene cuts away before we see salem get ripped apart by broken glass, but that is what she's doing. that unbearable uncontrollable rage is for herself. 

so how will she feel when she learns that all this time she spent believing that ozma  cynically took advantage of her trust and love to manipulate her into serving her tormentor, that he willingly bent the knee to tyrannical monsters and never wavered from his obedience—how will she feel when she finds out that actually, all that time, ozma was being tortured and forcibly twisted into an unwilling pawn by a curse he was tricked into accepting?

like. 

look at what she did to herself when she realized her decision to abandon cinder meant leaving cinder to infiltrate atlas and recover the lamp from oz all by herself, with no support, mere weeks after cinder nearly died at haven. and that was harm of a much smaller scale, spanning just a couple weeks. salem fled into exile after that horrible fight and left ozma to suffer alone in a state of inescapable torment for thousands of years. 

i think she's going to be devastated and furious with herself first, and she'll have to navigate that before she can reach being enraged at the god of light for ozma's sake. but yeah once she's had that time to process her hatred of the brothers and conviction that they must be cast down will only deepen. 

for ozma it's far more important that he sees the anguish and grief and guilt clearly. he already knows her rage. he knows she hates the brothers and why. salem is a deeply emotional character but her affect is blunted and notably in the narration of the lost fable, spite and anger at the gods are the only emotions jinn ever describes salem feeling—everything else we see salem feeling in that episode is framed as a manipulative lie, because ozma is terrified that her spiteful anger at the gods might have been the only thing that was real. 

and again i think this is a misconception rooted in the way salem presented herself because in both the kitchen scene and even more so in their last conversation, salem keeps what she wants and what shefeels very tightly locked down. from the instant ozma suggested that he wanted more than their cozy little life in her cabin, salem was one hundred percent focused on giving him what he said he wanted. literally, "whatever we want—what you want!"

salem fearing ozma would reject her didn't begin and end with just flinching before she plucked up the courage to tell him of her rebellion. it also encompassed what she wanted, if he wanted something else, and anything she felt that she feared might upset him. even when he told her the whole truth, she crushed down her own feelings and quoted from a myth—spoke in his language—and tried to reach out to somehow find a compromise because even then she was putting him and what he wanted so far above herself that she couldn't even bring herself to admit that she felt hurt. 

fundamentally what ozma needs is to see her pain, her grief, without any restraint—not just for her sake but also for his own. anger is what he expects. it's the only thing he expects. and i think a lot of the resentment he feels toward salem in the present comes from a place of believing on some level that he's just her excuse for being angry at the gods because he feels so much doubt that she truly loved him. 

which is where the maiden-in-tower allusion becomes salient; when the prince is blinded his sight is healed by her tears. ozma won't be able to see her clearly until he sees her sorrow.

[lizziiszs]

tw; nsfw, sh

so i was thinking about how fucking weird but cool hiori's fractured girl fetish then i just started thinking right, bear with me,,

i think being overstimulation would be a massive turn on for hiori because it would be one of the very few things that feels validating to him. as a child, pushing himself physically would have earnt him praise and recognition from his team mates, coaches and most importantly, his parents. even upon realising that his parents are using him as a means to an end, hiori still feels somewhat validated. overexerting himself to near injury, the thought of working so hard for the benefit of those who are using him makes him feel sick, he hates it. yet he gets off to it because it's the only thing he's ever known, its a familiar feeling that felt good for a while. and he's afraid that it forever will.

this MIGHT be a stretch but i've written about hiori having a sexual liking for self-harm on his s/o. i think as someone who's always had to maintain his physical condition, he's never been able to take his frustration and grief out on himself in such a way. he thinks it'd be relieving and freeing but can't ever go so far. everything he has is on the shoulders of his body and it's capabilities, including every chance of leaving home so he cannot even THINK of committing such a thing.

don't get me wrong though he hates the fact that his s/o who means the entire fucking world to him has ever endured such suffering and it breaks his heart yet it doesn't stop him from feeling somewhat attracted to the idea. the idea of them feeling a similar way, how it's comforting to know someone else has also been treated so unfairly by circumstance. and he can't help but to feel so and in a sexual light and the feeling of guilt he has as a result of it gets him off even more.

the same goes for his fractured girl fetish, the guilt he experiences has him so fucking horny because it feels so good in the sense that its so immoral and straight up fucking weird. the thought of having a girl reliant on him drives him insane. he wants to, for once, be the person who isn't dependent on someone else in order to get by (his parents' validation, other team mates to pass to etc.).

although the sadist part comes from the realisation that his parents are actually dependent on HIM. their entire relationship and careers have collided for HIM to exist,, what happens as a result of that is the work of hiori and his somewhat extraordinary capabilities. sometimes, he feels really fucking good about himself. like even saying the words 'i wanna quit' or 'i don't wanna go pro' would fling his parents into such a rage or total breakdown- he has yet to try it though.

he also will not accommodate to those who cannot keep up with him on the pitch, humiliating those who cannot even play alongside him. and obviously its a huge turn on because it feels good and hold onnnn everything that feels good to him crosses over with sexuality.

(this is a massive personal confession but) as someone who has no idea what his feelings are, doesn't care and doesn't know how to distinguish them,, everything that feels remotely good crosses over into sexual pleasure. its a stupid and really fucking weird thing but i feel as, since he was very emotionally deprived as a child, its a possible idea.

i'm gonna back this up by saying that he is chronically online and a bitch gamer boy. he totally would.

don't tell me you read all that.

i now aspire to look like erika toda in spec: birth

hiori i want you

(he lets me project)

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Absolutely fascinating, and I can see exactly what you mean.

From someone describing Cross's personality, including his impulsivity, emotional dysregulation and being spiteful (and approved by Jakei as nailing Cross's character). He's got anxiety, struggles with self-worth and self-esteem yet simultaneously acts so self-absorbed to the point where he has no qualms about being a jerk to literal children.

Take his relationship with XGaster. Cross hates him as much as he wants his approval. Willing to fight against him or alongside him in whatever it takes to get his AU back and to stop the Overwrites (all or nothing). Because for all his dad’s abuse, he’s still his dad, and Cross wants him to be proud of him. (There’s old Jakei pride art where Cross is wearing a rainbow shirt and hugging XGaster, saying “I hate you so much…but I love you” while smiling goofily)

Cross is full of himself, and believes himself to be more powerful and understanding of things than he actually is and feels entitled to his happy ending (tbh fair, considering everything). Or just take that moment of his interaction with Goth for Underverse Studios, where Cross justifies taking and drinking all his chocolate milk because Cross is an "adult" and therefore needs it more than Goth.

This conflates with his anxiety and self-doubt, where he also worries if he’s done enough or if he should’ve done something else but it’s too late, so he buckles down with his decision even if it’s a bad one. If anyone considered themself a “god”, he’d think it nonsense. That everything is run by codes and magic and force of will. So if a deity imagery is used with XGaster then Cross would think it’s up to him to stop that false god

His beef with XMettaton? Full of passive-aggressive interactions between the two especially when Mettaton refused to help Cross when a cow was chewing on his bandana. And it's this moment that gave Cross bovinophobia because he genuinely believed he was about to be beaten.

Then there's all of his unstable relationships with friends and what was once family. XChara causes him so much grief, and when they shared a body he despised the loss of autonomy. But they were also there when he was alone in the Antivoid for who knows how long until Ink came. They’ve become a reluctant companion, but there’s constant friction between the two for both the events that happened with their AU and clashing thoughts on how to handle things, both believing the other to be correct and that the other just messes everything up.

All or nothing with Ink: He believed Ink abandoned him and was never his friend to begin with when Cross had asked Ink to bring his AU back and didn't. All of their history, of how Ink probably kept Cross from going insane from the equivalent of solitary confinement and an emotionally unstable XChara, of how Ink helped Cross develop a passion for art and it's one of the few healthy coping mechanisms he has, all of it is pushed to the side and ignored by what Cross perceived as a slight to him and a manipulative betrayal. How could Ink pretend to be his friend when this whole time, he couldn't bring back XTale, and later on, worked with XGaster to keep his Soul safe and then release it?

All or nothing with Frisk: XFrisk was his best friend, and the betrayal that XFrisk had used Cross and tried to kill him and the others to steal Overwrite from XGaster that kickstarted Underverse in the first place had him throw his locket and rage and hate XFrisk and refuse to accept the name "Cross". A resentment that carried on throughout Underverse and in art of them answering asks, there are brief moments where they're friends again only for Cross to lash out at other moments. And in Underverse the locket is one of Cross's most prized possessions, and he always keeps it on his person. And yet "Cross" is his name, his entire identity, and he lashes out at XPapyrus to the point where he punches him in the face and threatens him with bone attacks until he says his name "Cross".

His brother, who was one of the people Cross wanted revived again more than anything, he's willing to go so far as to enforce his identity by physically attacking XPapyrus who only wanted his brother back.

Aside from his AU back, he wants a sense of normalcy again. He wasn’t always so frustrated or mad all the time, this is a side effect of not only childhood abuse but also trauma from the events of XTale. Not to mention the moments where even as a child, Cross He wants his home back, and more than that, he wants peace and to rest and to be loved (it hurts to distance himself from XPap, but Cross believes it's the only thing he can do now; that he has no other choice) That Cross now and will never be the Sans that XPap knew and loved, and wants to still be accepted by the ones he loves despite having changed so much

All the moments where his body was controlled by others: by XFrisk, XChara, or XGaster, the moments where he's emotionally vulnerable and was manipulated, greatly resemble dissociative episodes, where Cross is so disconnected from his body and even his mind feels out of his control. It's like he's nothing more than a Tool for others to use.

Looking at Cross as a whole, it all aligns much too well with BPD.

ASPD INK WOOOO CLUSTER B REPRESENT!! Nobody can take away Cluster B character headcanons away from me, Cluster B characters I love you

HELL YAAAAAAAA

We love Cluster B in this house

Allow me to actually give you a tiny list of cluster Bs and the characters I associate with them

ASPD: Ink, Nightmare (I’ve been also considering Killer, not yet made a decision tho xhxhxh)

BPD: Nightmare

HPD: Error

NPD: Cross

[rockwgooglyeyes]

warning!! this gets really long lmao - talking about themes in Arcane season two - arcane season two spoilers, kind of obvious but need to clarify. i dont talk about shipping in this at all btw! i have ships i like but like that's not here nor there, not relevant for this imo

I was watching an Arcane analysis video and while I wouldn't really go out on a limb and say that "I know what season two was about" like the themes and stuff because the themes found in a work are, inherently, going to be subjective and up to audience interpretation, and obviously, I'm not going to say that "I know Arcane's themes better than anyone else," I don't, that's not what this is about, but I would argue that season two does have a few universal themes. Some of those are carried over from season one, being relationships and love in general, what we are willing to do for love, but there are some that are focused on more so in season two than in season one.

This might have been said before- I don't really touch the analysis/meta side of the fandom, so I am sorry if I'm retreading old ground. Additionally, while I don't think that season two was nearly as perfect as season one, I enjoyed both and I think they were both solid, enjoyable seasons. The writing in season two was not immaculate but it was not bad, either. If not held in comparison to season one, I doubt it would be judged so harshly. Nevertheless, that's a whole other can of worms, and one that I would really rather not open.

Back to the themes- my argument is that, if season one is about siblings (sisters specifically), trauma, and change, then I would say that sacrifice, love, and the consequences of death, are the main themes in season two. These are all themes that are present in season one (Vander's sacrifice for Violet & Powder, the consequences of Vander & Silco's deaths, love is relevant w/pretty much everything) but they are focused on more heavily in season two.

These in particular are seen but not limited to Jinx's sacrifice for Vi at the very end, Heimerdinger's presumed sacrifice for Ekko, (the more sacrifice oriented ones), Jayce choosing to save Viktor, Caitlyn's fixation on Jinx and her descent into tyranny, Mel being forced to kill her mother, and Singed's obsession with keeping his daughter alive (the consequences of death).

These are the themes that stuck out to me as the biggest because, while there are the more philosophical, overarching ideas of fate and evolution and the multiverse, that's not really something that is widely accessible and they are themes, yes but they are not through-lines for every character. I mean, the fate one could be argued, General Medarda fated to be taken down by family, Jinx and Vander both fated to die, Viktor fated to fail (unable to achieve Hextech dream of helping the undercity, unable to achieve glorious evolution), etc etc, and I would say that fate is probably the trickiest of these themes to really dissect because it is carried out as expected as many times as it is subverted. It's also not really what I am trying to address here lmao

I would argue that there is the consistent theme of the consequences of death, which I know is a little bit of a long theme, themes are supposed to be one word most of the time, but I can't just say that this is the theme of "grief" because it's not just grief. It is about what people do in response to the death of their loved ones. Arguably, that could be what the whole season is about, really. Jinx is reeling at the death of Silco and her starting the war with topside, she has a death wish and she wants to "repent" in a way for killing Silco and for choosing to embrace being "Jinx" which is something she doesn't see any way of coming back from. She finds a will to live in Isha, who gives her a purpose and a reason to stay alive, and that gives her the ability to eventually attempt reconciliation with Vi. Caitlyn is screwed up over her mum's death, trying to maintain the relationships she once had in the face of all of her new responsibilities as well as the war looming, and with her preexisting obsession with Jinx being twisted by her mother's death, she wages war on Zaun and attempt to locate Jinx. In this manic grief, she forces Vi to make decisions that Vi isn't able to truly make (asking Vi to become an enforcer) and she kind of ends up burning all of her bridges, irrevocably changed by her trauma. Which, y'know, fair. At the same time, Vi is dealing with the death of "Powder", finally giving into Ekko's philosophy and vowing to hunt down her sister, which she isn't really able to do without Caitlyn there as a guiding light because Vi is fragile as it is, so when that relationship implodes, she throws herself into the deep end to avoid having to actually think about anything. That's interrupted by Jinx and then both of the sisters face a twisted version of their father, Vander, and try to process that.

Viktor is one of the most difficult ones because his story is so deepy intertwined with Jayce's, they have separate arcs but they are woven so closely together that they are nearly impossible to discuss without mentioning the other. Viktor is fatally injured by Jinx's missile and Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the Hexcore and using said Hexcore to save Viktor's life. This is two different sides of the "consequences of death" because one, Jayce's actions are the consequences of Viktor's temporary death, he acted rashly and in desperation, in a successful attempt to save Viktor's life but on the other hand, it gets into the consequences of death because, why was Viktor saved instead of anyone else, such as one of the council members? Why save Viktor instead of Caitlyn's mother? The consequences of Viktor's death was Jayce once again showing how devoted he is to Viktor specifically, against all odds, and choosing to defy death for someone he loves, which against the natural order of things and directly sets off a series of events that Heimerdinger warned of, and also, that Viktor was scared of.

When he returns, Viktor is himself but he is influenced heavily by the Hexcore, at the same time. He isolates himself and creates the utopia he dreamed of making with Hextech thanks to the powers of his Hexcore. He drives Jayce away on purpose, at first, but the more people who are added to the Hexcore, the more detached he becomes and the less he is trying to distance himself from Jayce. Jayce goes through the whole multiverse shenanigans and comes back grimy and determined to stop Viktor.

The arc for Jayce and Viktor in this season kind of mirrors Vi and Jinx, a bit, with the way that Jayce keeps choosing Viktor over and over, similarly to Vi choosing Jinx over and over, and like Vi hunting down Jinx, Jayce has a period where he turns against Viktor. At the same time, it's different, because it's almost as if this is the same arc that Jinx and Vi could have had if Vi did shoot Caitlyn and play along with Jinx's rules, because Jayce is finally absorbed into the Hexcore with everyone else and resolves most of Viktor's conflict by not giving up on Viktor. By choosing Viktor over everything else. By telling Viktor that even if he can't achieve his dreams, that doesn't make him broken, that his imperfections make him beautiful.

Ekko's story around the themes, I think, is more about the way that the butterfly effect works, how little choices make a big different, and how things could have gone if only things were different, as seen in his multiverse episode. That ties into the consequences of death via showing what could have happened if Vi were the one who died instead of Vander, how that would have impacted their family and their relationships, how it changed the trajectory of the plot overall. Additionally, Ekko is one of the characters grappling with the most grief at the very end, having lost Heimerdinger, who was a mentor to him, and Jinx, who he loved.

It's fascinating how Ekko's story shows specifically his response to loss (Heimerdinger) was to take action, make a practical choice. But also, he latches onto one of the most important people in his life who is still alive, Jinx, and while he is focused on saving the world, he's devoting a lot of effort to restoring Jinx, too, which isn't exactly the most practical decision he could be making. Jinx is notorious for her volatility and Ekko has seen that first hand, yet, he pulls her out of the gutter and will not let her give up. So, while he's more tertiary when it comes to sacrifice plots (Jinx and Heimerdinger) but when it comes to love and the consequences of death, he's pretty focal, as his story ends up largely being about his love for Jinx, his love for the world, and how he deals with Jinx's death and Heimerdinger's death.

I don't want to talk about Heimerdinger I don't like him I don't care.

I could talk about Mel and her relationship with her mother as well, the way it parallels Caitlyn's relationship with her mother, but this post is long enough as it is, so if I talk about that, I'm saving that for another day.

[whosscruffylooking]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ The Beginning of Us- Chapter 7 ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader warnings: violence. mentions of weapons and death. descriptions of wounds and blood. word count: 4k a/n: I can't stand the beginning of this, but my brain is too fried to write anything better. Series Masterlist

The atmosphere in the truck feels lighter, though not entirely free of the burden you all carry. There’s a newfound ease between the three of you. Ellie chatters now and then, her voice filling the silence with youthful curiosity, but it’s the quieter moments that linger. The way Joel’s eyes glance to yours in the passenger seat, uncertain yet inviting. The way his hand rests on the gearshift, pinky lifting every so often, as if drawn by some unseen pull—reaching for even the tiniest connection, just an inch closer to you.

You’ve finally breached one of the most forbidden subjects: Sarah. For so long, the unaddressed pain between you had been like a rusted blade buried deep, poisoning your thoughts and staining every step forward. You had both swallowed a grief so consuming it reshaped you, hollowed out the people you once were, and left jagged edges where softer ones had been. Twenty years of silence. Twenty years of blame, festering and misplaced.

But while the ghost of resentment still remains, clinging stubbornly like smoke after a fire, there’s movement now. It’s delicate and gradual like the first uneasy thaw after a long, punishing winter. Every breath feels like it could tip the balance toward healing or fracture it all over again, but for the first time, there’s hope. It’s frightening, really—the way it creeps in, tempting you to believe there’s still something left to save.

“That’s enough for today. I’ll pull off here,” Joel declares as he guides the truck offroad, weaving carefully through a forest of trees until he finds a suitable spot.

As the three of you settle in for the night, the sun melts into the horizon, casting long amber shadows through the trees. Joel busies himself with arranging the sleeping bags, his movements methodical, deliberate. It doesn’t go unnoticed—by you or Ellie—that he places yours closest to his. A quiet statement that is undeniable. 

Later, he leans against a tree, the rough bark pressing into his back as his eyes track your every movement. He watchesthe way you laugh at one of Ellie’s jokes, a rare flicker of brightness breaking through the cracks of everything you’ve endured. It’s fleeting, but it catches something in his chest, grips him tight. For a moment, he sees you as you once were—before the world collapsed, before you were both hardened by loss and time. It stirs something deep, something he thought had withered away long ago.

Still, unease gnaws at the edges of his thoughts, restless and insistent. Tommy had told him you left that night. He said you had disappeared and never looked back. But then, why return if you had already gone? You said you were hurt, lost, searching for help—why go back? Why risk everything? The pieces don’t align, jagged and ill-fitting, teasing a truth he isn’t sure he’s ready to face.

It’s a conversation for another day, but the questions press in like splinters beneath his skin, threatening to tear open wounds he’s barely stitched closed. His fingers graze over the cracked glass of his watch, the lantern’s glow catching the fractures like veins of light. A relic of another life—one he’s never truly abandoned. He wonders if you’ve clung to the past the same way, if it’s been your anchor in the same relentless storm.

But the unease coils tighter, a vice around his ribs. He knows himself well enough to recognize it—this feeling won’t let go, won’t quit, not until he has the answers. And though the truth might cut him open, he also knows he won’t turn away. It’ll fester otherwise, like everything else he’s tried—and failed—to bury.

»»————————-««

As you nestle into your sleeping bags, the rhythmic hum of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl weave through the night air, a fragile lullaby against the quiet tension between you. You focus on the sounds, willing them to drown out the awareness of just how close Joel is beside you.

He, however, keeps his gaze fixed on the stars, their cold glow offering little solace. His mind churns, restless and unrelenting, grasping for anything to quiet the unease stirring deep in his chest.

“Can I ask you guys a serious question?” Ellie’s voice breaks the quiet, snapping both you and Joel out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” Joel groans, already bracing himself.

“Why did the scarecrow get an award?” she asks, another pun from that Will Livingston book she refuses to stop quoting.

Joel sighs heavily. “Because he was outstanding in his field,” he deadpans, his tone flat as a board. It’s clear he wants this over with as quickly as possible.

“You dick! Did you read this?” Ellie laughs, her voice full of mock betrayal.

Her laughter is contagious, and you can’t help but chuckle yourself. Ellie notices, and that only makes her laugh harder, her giggles bubbling up like she’s struck comedy gold.

You glance at Joel, and his expression is priceless—a mix of exasperation and pure defeat. He looks like he’s contemplating how far he could drive before they’d notice he’s gone.

“Shhhh,” you try to stifle your laughter, though it keeps slipping out. “Ellie, come on, or he’s gonna lose it.”

But Ellie’s laughter only grows louder, and for a brief moment, the heaviness of the night lifts, replaced by a rare, fleeting lightness. Even Joel, despite himself, seems less tense, though he’d never admit it.

»»————————-««

The next day, you make it to Kansas City. It’s your turn to drive when the road ahead suddenly narrows into a blockade. Stacked cars and an old semi-trailer block the way forward, their rusted hulks leaning precariously.

Joel leans forward in the passenger seat, assessing the situation. “Pull over,” he says, his voice calm but purposeful. He grabs his gun, opening the door. “Stay put, but move over to the passenger seat.”

You slide over as he steps out, moving carefully around the obstacle, his keen eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. After a few tense minutes, he returns, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary.

“Blocked pretty solid,” he confirms. You hold up the map, tracing a route with your finger.

“If we go around the tunnel and take the next ramp, we should loop back to the highway.”

Joel nods, glancing at the barricade one last time before driving the truck away. Once in the city, he navigates the truck through the crumbling streets, the maze of abandoned buildings growing denser with every turn. The eerie stillness is unnerving, and you can feel Joel growing more restless beside you.

“Stop,” Ellie says abruptly, her voice cutting through the suspense. Joel’s hand shoots out instinctively to the dashboard as you brake.

“Is that the QZ?” she asks, pointing out the window. “Where’s FEDRA? There’s supposed to be guards and checkpoints.”

“She’s right,” you agree, scanning the empty streets. “It’s way too quiet.”

Joel’s hand twitches toward his gun. Before either of you can act, a voice calls out from the shadows.

“Stop! Help me, please!”

A man stumbles into view, clutching his side, his gait uneven. Blood stains his shirt, and his face is twisted in pain. He looks desperate. Too desperate.

You grab Joel’s arm, your grip firm. “Don’t stop,” you instruct. Joel glances at you, then back at the man.

“Put your seatbelt on, Ellie,” Joel orders, his voice cold.

“What? We’re just gonna leave him?” she asks, her tone tinged with disbelief.

“He’s not hurt, Ellie,” you answer, your voice tight.

Joel slams his foot on the gas, the truck surging forward. The man dives out of the way as a loud crash shatters the windshield—a cinder block falls from above. The truck jolts violently as spikes shred the tires. Joel curses under his breath, gripping the wheel as the truck fishtails.

From the corner of your eye, you see a man step into the street, raising a gun. Three sharp cracks ring out. Pain explodes in your shoulder, hot and blinding. You cry out, your hand shooting to the wound as blood begins to seep through your fingers.

“Shit!” Ellie screams, lurching forward, her hands hovering helplessly over you. “You’re hit!”

Joel’s eyes dart to you, wide with panic. Without a word, he jerks the wheel hard to the right.

“Hold on!” he yells, pressuring the gas pedal to the floor. The truck barrels forward, smashing straight into the front of an old laundromat. Glass and debris explode around you as the truck crashes through the building, coming to a screeching halt amid the rows of rusted washing machines.

Gunfire continues to rain down outside, bullets pinging off the truck’s metal frame. Joel doesn’t waver—he’s out of the truck in an instant, his gun drawn as he moves to your side. He tears the door open, his movements frantic but precise.

“Ellie, stay low and follow me!” Joel barks, already helping you out of the truck. His arm wraps around your waist, steadying you as you stumble, your legs weakened by the pain in your shoulder.

“They’re still shooting!” Ellie yells, ducking behind the truck for cover.

“Go! Move!” Joel shouts, dragging you toward the back of the laundromat where the machines provide better cover. His grip on you is firm but careful, his body shielding yours as bullets shatter the glass and ricochet off metal.

Inside the dim, dusty room, Joel lowers you behind a row of washers, pressing his hand firmly against your wound to staunch the bleeding. His face is pale, his breaths ragged as his eyes dart toward the shattered front window, tracking the movement of the attackers outside.

“I’m fine,” you manage to choke out, though the pain in your voice betrays you.

“Bullshit,” Joel snaps, his voice breaking slightly. “Stay down. Don’t move.”

You nod weakly, your vision blurring as Ellie crouches beside you, her wide eyes darting between you and Joel.

“What do we do?” she asks, her voice shaking.

Joel glances at you, something raw flickering in his eyes before he turns back to Ellie. “Stay here. Watch her. I’ll deal with them.”

“You see that hole over there?” You motion toward the jagged hole in the wall, your breath shallow, the edges of your vision blurring slightly.

Ellie nods, her wide eyes darting between you and Joel.

“You go squeeze through. Stay there. Whatever you do, don’t leave, okay?” Your voice is weaker than you’d like, but it carries enough weight to make her nod, even as fear flickers across her face.

“Joel,” you say, your voice trembling now, “Cover her. She’s gonna go through there. And hand me my gun, will you? It’s not like I have much else to do.” You try to summon a smirk, but it falls flat. The pain is taking its toll.

Joel hesitates, his jaw clenching as though he wants to argue, but he complies, handing you your gun with a look that says he disagrees with this plan.

“When I say go, you run,” Joel tells Ellie, his tone firm and steady.

Ellie’s lip quivers, but she nods. “They’re not gonna hit you,” Joel reassures her, his voice softening. “Look at me! They’re not gonna hit you.”

Your heart clenches, watching him ground her in the chaos. She trusts him—more than anyone else in the world—and it shows in the way she steels herself under his gaze.

And it plays out just as planned. Joel fires cover shots, his aim sharp and unwavering, while Ellie sprints to the hole in the wall, slipping through to safety. He tosses your gun to you.

With trembling hands, you drag yourself behind an overturned washer, positioning yourself as best as you can to provide backup. You’ve been through worse, you remind yourself. You’ve survived worse. The sharp, burning pain in your shoulder isn’t enough to stop you—not yet.

The chaos quiets, but heavy footsteps echo in the distance. Joel does away with the last man with practiced precision. Relief flickers through you—until he rushes to your side and sees your paling face and the way your eyes start to lose focus.

“Stay with me,” Joel urges, his voice rising in desperation. “Don’t go to sleep. You hear me? We can rest later.”

His hands press hard against your wound, and the sharp surge of pain pushes you to the edge. Your vision darkens, the sounds around you muffling. You fight to stay present, but it’s too much—the pain, the blood loss, the sheer exhaustion.

The sound of a door slamming open jolts you back, even as you hover on the edge of consciousness. Joel’s hands are ripped from you.

“Joel!” Your voice is hoarse and weak, but panic fuels it.

What follows is a cacophony of sounds—a brutal struggle, fists meeting flesh, the crash of objects falling, and then gasping—Joel’s gasping. You can’t see him, can’t help him and your heart seizes with fear. You feel utterly helpless.

A gunshot rings out, piercing the air. The sound startles you, and then you hear a voice—a stranger’s—crying out in pain, pleading for mercy. His words are garbled, but it’s not Joel. Relief floods you, though it’s quickly overtaken by dread.

Joel says something to Ellie, but your hearing is fading in and out. The gunshot came from Ellie? Then, her small frame suddenly appears beside you. She buries her face in your shoulder, her trembling hands clutching at you.

You force your shaking arms to move, weakly covering her ears. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay,” you whisper, though your words feel hollow. You’re barely hanging on, your mind fighting to stay present for her.

Another scream cuts through the night, followed by silence. It’s over.

Joel’s hands return to you, his grip steady but shaking. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you closer.

You let yourself take one last deep breath, your body finally succumbing to the darkness.

“Joel! Joel, what’s happening?!” Ellie’s voice pierces the haze, frantic and scared.

“She’s okay!” Joel barks, though his voice trembles with barely contained panic. “She’s just passed out. She’ll be fine.” He looks at Ellie, desperate now. “Go clear that door over there. I need to get her in someplace safe.”

Joel moves with a frantic precision, his hands steady even as his thoughts spiral out of control. He lays you down on an old, splintered desk in the back room. Blood seeps through the torn fabric of your shirt, spreading fast, too fast, and it makes his stomach twist violently.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing a rag from his pack and pressing it against the wound. You flinch slightly even in your unconscious state, the movement barely there but enough to let him know you’re still fighting. He clamps down harder on the cloth, praying it’ll stop the bleeding.

He pulls a bottle of alcohol from his bag, uncapping it with one hand while the other keeps pressure on your shoulder. His chest tightens as he remembers the way you looked at him earlier, like you trusted him completely. He doesn’t deserve that trust— not after the way things ended, the way he’s been holding onto every ounce of resentment like it was armor.

When he pours the alcohol over your wound, you let out a low, unconscious whimper, and it nearly shatters him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice barely audible. His hands shake for a fraction of a second before he forces himself back into focus.

The memories hit him like blows as he threads a needle, the trembling lantern light reflecting off the curved metal. Tommy said you left, his mind insists, a bitter refrain he’s held onto for years. But you didn’t, did you? Not entirely, not the way he thought.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he starts stitching the wound, his hands steady despite the storm in his chest. Every stitch feels like a penance, a punishment for the years he’s spent hating you, for not asking the questions he should’ve asked, for letting pride and anger fester where understanding should’ve been.

His gaze flickers to your face, soft and vulnerable in the dim light, and a pang of guilt settles deep in his gut. You didn’t deserve this—not the wound, not his coldness, not the years spent apart.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, almost pleading. “Don’t you dare leave me again.”

The words come unbidden, bare, and unfiltered, slipping past the walls he’s built so carefully. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, but saying it feels like a small release, like loosening a band that’s been wrapped too tightly around his chest.

By the time he finishes stitching you up, his hands are covered in blood, and his heart feels just as stained. He sits back on the chair next to the desk, his head falling into his hands for a brief moment.

The sound of Ellie shuffling nervously in the doorway brings him back. He straightens, wiping his hands on his jeans and looking at her with a weariness he doesn’t try to hide.

“She gonna be okay?” Ellie asks softly, her eyes red-rimmed and wide with fear.

Joel nods, though his throat feels too tight to speak. “She’ll be fine,” he manages, more to convince himself than her.

But as he looks at you again, unconscious and pale, he knows this isn’t over. The wound might heal, but the questions won’t. Not until he gets answers. And even then, he’s not sure the guilt will ever go away.

»»————————-««

The night stretches on, endless and unrelenting. Joel stays propped up against the table, his eyes fixed on you, watching the faint rise and fall of your chest. Ellie is fast asleep, curled up on the floor nearby, but Joel can’t afford to rest. Not with the weight pressing down on his chest like a vice.

He fights exhaustion, forcing himself to stay awake. Every time his eyelids droop, he snaps them open again, his focus returning to you. You look peaceful, even with the makeshift bandages and bruises. Peaceful in a way that pulls at something deep inside him. He’s reminded of a morning long ago, of you lying beside him in bed, tangled in the sheets after a night where neither of you could get enough of each other. You’d fallen asleep against his chest, your breaths steady, your body warm and safe in his arms. You’d looked like an angel then. 

You look like one now.

The memory soothes him, softens his tense shoulders, and before he realizes it, his head lulls back against the table, and sleep drags him under.

He’s back in Texas. The sky is gray, heavy with storm clouds, the streets eerily quiet. He knows this place—it’s the town where his world ended. Where everything fell apart.

Then he sees you, standing alone in the middle of the street. Your back is to him, and something about the way you stand makes his stomach twist.

“Y/N!” he calls out, his voice loud in the empty street.

You don’t respond.

He moves toward you, faster now. “Y/N!” he yells again, his voice cracking.

When he reaches you, his hand grips your shoulder, turning you toward him.

You scream.

His eyes lock on yours, and his heart stops. Blood coats your clothes, dark and endless, pooling beneath you. The shrapnel protrudes from your side, the bullet wound gapes in your shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, filled with pain and something he can’t bear to name.

“You keep leaving me to die, Joel,” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible.

“No,” he chokes out, shaking his head. “No, I—”

Your body begins to crumple, and he catches you, pulling you into his arms.

“Please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

“I didn’t leave,” you gasp, blood staining your lips as you struggle to breathe. “You left me.”

Your body goes limp in his arms.

“No,” he whispers, his chest heaving with sobs. “No, no, no—please! Come back! I lo—”

He jolts awake, his heart pounding so violently it feels like it might burst. His breaths come in shallow gasps, and tears streak his face, hot and unchecked.

For a moment, he’s disoriented, the nightmare clinging to him like a suffocating shroud. But then he remembers. You’re here. You’re alive.

He scrambles to his feet and rushes to your side. His hands tremble as he presses two fingers to your neck, searching for your pulse. There it is—steady and strong. His eyes flick to your chest, watching the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths. Relief crashes over him so forcefully his knees almost give out.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice raw, barely audible. “Stay with me. I know you didn’t leave. Just…stay now. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand lingers near yours, so close he could touch it, but he pulls back, afraid of how much he needs you. His head dips, his shoulders trembling as he fights to compose himself, to push down the storm of emotions threatening to overtake him.

But in the dim light of the room, with Ellie still asleep and you lying motionless beside him, Joel allows himself this one moment of vulnerability. He allows himself to grieve what he thought he’d lost, even as he clings to the hope that you’ll wake up and prove him wrong.

»»————————-««

Joel startles awake at the faint sound of your stirrings, the soft rustle of fabric snapping him out of his restless haze. In an instant, he’s by your side, his knees hitting the floor as he leans over you, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused at first, but they slowly settle on him. The face you see is raw with worry, the lines on his brow deeper than you remember.

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice weak, barely audible.

“I’m here,” he chokes out, his voice thick with relief. “Oh, thank God, I’m here.” His hand cups the side of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as if grounding himself in the reality that you’re alive.

Last night, he’d begged—something he hadn’t done in years. He’d bargained with whatever higher power might still exist, offering up every part of himself if it meant you’d open your eyes. He’d have traded places with you in a heartbeat if it guaranteed you’d be okay.

“How long have I been out?” you murmur, attempting to push yourself up, only for your body to betray you. Pain shoots through you, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“All night,” he replies, his hands quickly bracing you before you can strain yourself further. “But you’re patched up. You’re gonna be alright.” His voice trembles ever so slightly, betraying the storm of emotions he’s fighting to contain.

Your eyes drift closed for a moment, overwhelmed by the effort of staying conscious. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Joel’s grip on you tightens. “Don’t apologize. Not ever,” he says firmly, the meaning of the words wavering in the air between you.

For a moment, you see something flash in his eyes—something finally unguarded. He looks at you like he’s still afraid to blink, like if he does, you’ll disappear again. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he struggles to keep it all in, but the emotions claw at him, desperate to be let loose.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he admits, his voice rough and unsteady. His gaze drops, and for the first time, you see his armor crack. “I thought—” He stops, inhaling sharply, his fingers brushing against your temple. “I thought I...we lost you.”

His breath shudders, his whole body taut with the effort of holding himself together. Tears threaten, burning at the edges of his vision, but he refuses to let them fall. Instead, he hovers close—too close—his forehead nearly brushing yours before he catches himself.

“Don’t do that to me again,” he rasps, his voice barely more than a breath, fractured and desperate. “I can’t—I can’t lose you. Not again.”

It’s not a plea. It’s not a command. It’s the unguarded confession of a man who’s spent too long burying what he can’t bear to feel—until now.

»»————————-««

Taglist: @si1versamurai @eaterof-concrete @mysteriouslyperfecttiger @daybleedsintonightfa11 @rosey1981 @eaterof-concrete

[enchaentingly]

        relief flutters weakly at his answer, but it doesn’t help to make her world any more vibrant, sharp, and clear. it’s still fuzzy. at least if he wanted to hurt her, it would’ve made sense. she knows she deserves it. there’s enough time for her to protest his claim, surely, not at all plagued by the confusion he keeps trying to tell her about. she is confused, but not about this. she’s confused, and heartbroken as to why he feels unwelcome. why he feels rejected and cast out, unwanted. she’s the only one to deserve feeling that way.  “ n- no, i do. i do want you here. you’ve been so kind, you have to let me thank you, i … there has to be something … ”  she needs him to understand, but allie can’t find any more words.

        she’s not as strong as she thinks. still sitting up, she presses her hands into the soft feeling of her covers, only finding sensation on one side. it’s not very grounding at all, the plushness sh underneath the searching pads. she squeezes her eyes shut, tries to keep from ruminating on the cycles of pain, and guilt soaked regret. the reality of the gore that stains her neck, and traveling down. it comes to the closure of half magic, half ruin. allie doesn’t have to comprehend the rapid signals her body sends her to know what she needs. her eyes open, cloudy with tears, falling in between one blink and the next. still, her gaze pulls to the sight of him, again. he looks so uncomfortable, grounding himself into the wood of the floor instead of anything else. her insides shred with the panic that something is wrong, and she can’t figure it out. there’s too much to go through. and he hasn’t given her anything besides the truth that he knew her mother and the urge to get home, and to be safe, without him. she watches his face, and can’t place anything but bravery and resolve. she remembers, when she had been closer to him, after the fall, she hadn’t heard his heart. she remembers seeing him flinch away from the open wound, bending. allie makes a desperate guess that would hush her prickling senses.

         everything after that feels like it could be happening all at the same time. he’s feeding her instructions with a stern voice that makes her feel just as small as he seems to remember, he turns, he’s going to leave. he’s going to leave. and he’s not going to come back, and neither will she, and now that the bleeding stopped, the pain turns bone dry and unsolved. every bit of her screams, even while allie knows she can’t. she can’t, but she does cry, and pours, all the same. frustration piles high in her so deep that she burns. she might even be angry, the ugliest feeling of all.  “ just- just, wait, please! ”  she does him the simple favor of not trying to stand again, but she shakes, ceaselessly, even without the movement of her limbs.  “ please. please, i haven’t seen her in- in seven years and i haven’t even come looking for her, this time. and you’re- you’re here. i don’t know anyone else that knows her, i’ve followed her everywhere i could, and- and her stories but none of it’s ever done anything and i … ”  her sob turns choked up, mangled. she doesn’t want it to leave, anyway.  “ i just want my mom. ”  in the leave of her grief, silence comes, and she can’t look at him any more. allie’s eyes, filled with tears, fall to her bare knees. somehow, she hadn’t skinned those. it doesn’t take long at all for the worry that he’ll go, anyway, take over the sadness, the emptiness. she has to do something.  “ i can close the wound, i can- so you can stay or- or you could come back, i just … i can’t lose you, i only just found you. ”  the flower flower, unlike the root, is stored on the other side of the bed. allie shoves this, too down her throat, anticipating the sour burn despite the sweetpea exterior, protests from something meant to be used on the outside, gone on the inside of something alive. it doesn’t matter, she knows she won’t mend fast enough for it to be worth it.  “ can you- can you come back? or … or leave something? so i can find you again? ”  again, her body’s greedy, sagging at the edge of her bed at the smallest notion of rest.

Frowning, Reid recognises the spike in her heartbeat. "I didn't get you all the way back here, to hurt you," Damn, he hopes he doesn't at the end of all this. She's putting ideas in his head, and he's squeezing his eyes shut, shunning the depraved imagery. It's been overwhelming enough without her fears dousing her with cortisol; it's a feral trait to know that like it's syrup in a coffee.

She barely understands what she's asking him. "You don't want me here," Statement. Fact. Her friend is supposed to be here, so it's not him burdened with responsibility. Reid finds he's in the gravity of too many witches. Some are familiar with dragging him through the rocky plains of hell and back. Even more than that like to see him squirm under the weight of his desperation.

He's close to crossing the room and stopping the young witch's movements. But he fixes himself still, feet rooted to the floor — almost like the magic in the house has curled around his boots and crawled inside his bones; claimed him as a piece in Allie's little realm.

It's odd, watching her magic at work. He's seen so much of it, years of it, in the futile search for a cure. But it's all very different from the next; no black-and-white law. No mantra that Reid's used to in which he's clear on everything. Once it has been as easy as right and wrong had once been. Witchcraft just a mess of energy that prickles against him; Allie's ingredients aren't like power that envelops the room. He's felt that too, from some. The monster chasing answers in the darker practices; grimoires in stacks at the apartment; frantic hunts for an answer to his affliction. All he's got from it is nightmares and memories of agony.

"Allie." He uses it again, so she might listen this time. The violence at her throat stops its weak trickle as the root and flower do its work but she's vulnerable. She's been that, this whole time.

His instructions are clearer, the second time: "Lay back down. Call your friend. Rest."

And then, he rips his boots up from the invisible binds that had him there for far too long. The cavern in his chest tells him it's wrong to leave her exposed, but he doesn't have another option. He can't stay.

Reid pivots, nodding towards the bed expectantly, as he turns to leave. "Take care."

[orcelito]

I'm tired of the mood swings man like wtf is my problem

[rogloptimist]

LAKE MISSOULA x JONAS VINGEGAARD

credits under cut!

lake missoula - richy mitch and the coal miners // jonas vingegaard - team presentation, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard, tadej pogacar, and remco evenepoel - podium ceremony, tour de france 2024 (belga images) // tadej pogacar and jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // wayward son - rainbow rowell // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 // it's down to legs - caley fretz // jonas vingegaard - stage 20, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // a poem on hope - wendell berry // jonas vingegaard and remco evenepoel - stage 19, tour de france 2024 // quora user shulamit widawsky // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 (getty images) // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 post-race interview (flobikes) // 'now the fight is over': jonas vingegaard concedes tour de france battle for yellow, but still aims for second - adam becket // jonas vingegaard - stage 19, tour de france 2024 post-race interview (flobikes) // video: jonas vingegaard and matteo jorgenson consoled after heart-breaking end to stage 19 of 2024 tour de france for team visma | lease a bike - kieran wood // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // 'probably the hardest moment of my career'-- jonas vingegaard on his crash and fight to be ready for the tour de france - stephen farrand // jonas vingegaard's tour de france was a venn diagram - iain treloar // rise up and salute the sun: the writings of suzy kassem - suzy kassem // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2023 // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // vingegaard exhausted after tour de france: may cut season short - sjoerd valkering // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - stage 20, tour de france 2024 (belga images) // the thing is - ellen bass // "if you had told me four months ago that i would be second, i wouldn't have believed you" - jonas vingegaard disappointed but proud of his tour de france - ondrej zhasil // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - stage 11, tour de france 2024 post-race interview (nbc sports) // alfred lord tennyson // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // remco evenepoel and jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - tour de france 2024 // matteo jorgenson and jonas vingegaard - stage 19, tour de france 2024 // matteo jorgenson and jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - podium ceremony, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard and wout van aert - tour de france 2024 (team visma | lease a bike)

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I know that people are rarely their best selves at a funeral, but do you ever just watch your family move through the process of mourning the Patriarch and have a sudden and violent and vivid understanding of Why Everyone Is The Way They Are

[harocat]

Yes I agree Miaomiao would be a bit reserved and shy at first upon reuniting with Ziqi. I think she'd be afraid of disappointing him, like the her in the real world wouldn't be everything he'd dreamed of. And Ziqi would harbor the same reservations, so they'd have to kind of stumble through that of course. But they'd get past it, and everything would fall back into place.

Teen Ziqi would especially be an angry gamer. We know he took out his anger at the world in his writing, so I'm sure he'd do the same playing games. Hopefully he was never mic'ed up. xp It's cute to imagine them playing games together. I bet they'd get super competitive.

RE: Miaomiao, I think she probably has a couple close friends but not more than that, and she's definitely as you noted above, more likely to spend time at home online than anywhere else. She might even have some close online friends that she's never met IRL. The idea that she acted as she did because she saw herself as being in an RPG makes so much sense! But yeah, it is definitely her true self that she was letting out without reservation for once. She's freed from the expectations of real life (work, money, etc), free from the palpable grief that she no doubt still experiences, especially around her remaining family, and she's free from the loneliness she seems to have in every day life. She can really, really be herself. How nice that must be.

(OTOH I think Ziqi has NO close friends in real life. I imagine that outside of family, his closest relations are like, his editor and his agent. Maybe he has a cat. I could definitely see that.)

Okay post-canon Miaoqi headcanon: Ziqi's terrible dumplings he makes during the series are identical to how his dumplings look in the real world. In fact, he's actually a decent cook, and the food he makes is good, but it's always completely hideous. Before Miaomiao, he only ever cooked for himself so he didn't really think about this or realize it.

Imagine the lumpiest cake you can imagine, but you bite into it and wow it's delicious?? That kind of thing. The color of his soup is a little off, but somehow it's tasty. The way he cuts and slices his meat makes it look kinda gross, but it's just the right amount of cooked. His bao look like misshapen little butts, but they're the perfect level of soft and pillow-y.

Miaomiao tries to help of course, and she can with some things (like shaping dough), but he's just a better cook than her so when it's time to have friends and family over to eat she tells them beforehand "yes, it will look weird. I promise it tastes good. Please just eat it and don't accidentally make any faces when you see it.”

[deadrlngers]

ocs as patron saints

i was tagged by @katsigian and @ecofear to take this quiz for some of my ocs, thank you both so much!!! loved doing this sm, two things i love obsessing over: saints and ocs <3

patron saint of relics. patron saint of remembering. patron saint of holding something close. patron saint of holding on for too long. for a saint, a relic is often a part of the body, kept for some physical memento of their holiness. they are all in your hands, now: does it feel like remembrance? does it feel sanctified? are the dust and blood as precious as they're supposed to be?

patron saint of bones. patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

patron saint of heartbreak. not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

tagging (under the cut!):

@marictheirins @mojaves @ruvviks @devilbrakers @dragonaqe

@pinkfey @aezyrraeshh @shadowglens @risingsh0t @ncytiri

@baelavelaryon @kibellah @pawnguild @roguette @hexmaturgy

@tethrras @lucaanis @auricfog @thedeadthree

and anyone else who wants to do it!!

[madamescarlette]

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[avspol]

it was absolutely foul of araki to name polnareff's sister sherry (phonetically very similar to cherry) and then decide that kakyoin would be associated with cherries and that he would be like a brother to polnareff and that he would also die . why would you do that

[idontmindifuforgetme]

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