#its about the betrayal and the fear and the apologies that will never be understood because they cant

[oc-poll-times]

Congrats to all the Cardamon sweepers out there because even if they don't win the poll, getting them this far has made me accidentally give her an entire backstory and relationships and a tragedy and I am having the TIME of my LIFE

[superyiking]

Fluff:KAISER X FEM READER

About the content: It wasn't a good idea to go to training at night at your school, and it wasn't a good idea to go into the boys' bathroom to clean yourself up either.

"I don't have a good relationship with Michael Kaiser", that's what you thought as you felt daggers pointed at your back as you hid your head in your thick math book. Perhaps you can take refuge from your enemy's intense gazes towards you.You swallowed hard and breathed heavily, thinking that the boy behind you would leave you alone if you stopped breathing. Maybe he was just annoyed by your usually loud voice, or maybe not.

“Is he staring again?” you whispered softly, as if you were passing on secret information about your country’s betrayal to your friend who was sitting next to you and she was carelessly doing her nails. Everyone in the class was either relaxed or messing around, cause your philosophy professor was literally explaining in slow motion and no one was listening. You understood why they call him zero point five.

Your friend took her makeup mirror and tilted it at an angle to see Michel Kaiser staring at you with eyes that exuded evil and hatred.

"Yep!" She took her mirror back and put it aside and went back to tending to her nails, which were painted a simple gelatinous pink, not really caring how terrified you were.

"You bitch! What use are you as a friend if you can't rid me of this bastard?" You spoke quietly for fear that someone would hear you cursing. Unfortunately, a muffled laugh came from behind you and you turned around and noticed Bashira, completely burying his face on the table and his body shaking as if he had been electrocuted, next to him was Isagi who waved at you while he was smiling as usual, so you smiled back and gave him a candy that was hidden in the pocket of your skirt since it was not your favorite taste. He whispered, “Thank you,” and your cheeks turned red, You try to look at everything except him, but your eyes land on the boy with blond, blue hair and a strange haircut, as he looks into your eyes with the most hateful look you have ever seen. His face wrinkles and his teeth show in a grimace It sent shivers through your entire body, causing you to stand up immediately, making a noise that turned all eyes towards you.

"Can I go to the bathroom?''

You turned off the faucet with abundant flowing water, and looked at your reflection in the mirror with your wet face. You heard the bell for the last class of today ringing and a long sigh left your lungs, perhaps relieving the heaviness of the feeling in your heart.

You quickly returned to class and took your bag that your friend had packed while she was waiting for you to leave with her. You apologized and said that you would stay this evening to practice some new moves for the cheerleading team, and she understood the matter.

You waved at her and her figure moved away into the corridor with the rest of the student bodies eager to leave the hell of school. Summer and vacation were coming after two weeks.

You took your training supplies and clothes and went to the hall designated for the cheerleading team, which is the same as the basketball hall. Your high school had two fields, the second was for football since this school is known for training the best players.

Time passed quickly and you did not feel it for a moment because all you were thinking about were those burning blue eyes of him only. Did Kaiser hate you that much? You never communicated with him, fought, or even spoke badly about him? So why?

Your memory brought you back to your first meeting with him, which was in your second year after changing high school.

You were a new student there and you didn't know anyone. Your best friend was studying here, but she always took her first week carelessly and was absent from school the whole time. You were very confused, as this high school was big and you had no knowledge of its paths, so you kept wandering around, shy to ask someone about the way.

All the students, boys and girls, were exchanging hugs and conversations. In the midst of all that noise, you were alone, walking with languid steps and passed by a group of enthusiastic boys, as if they were wrestling. One of them imitated a punch to his friend, who was surprised by it and almost fell had the other to caught him. On the other hand, you were behind him and his bad luck passed on to you, which led to him pushing you from your back and falling like an idiot on the person in front of you.

''Aaaaah!!" Your shout rang throughout the corridor and everyone turned to what the sound was.

You had closed your eyes tightly before you fell, so you opened them very slowly, cursing inside yourself for the embarrassment you caused on your first day, wishing that time would stop and you would hit the wall with all your might, hoping that you would cure your anger.

"Eeeettt, this was so painfull !" You said as you kneeled on your painful knees before opening your eyes, which fell on the most beautiful face you had ever seen before. In front of you, a disturbed and shocked face faced you, its pink lips parted and The most beautiful A degree of blue was trapped inside those widened eyes. You froze completely, your lips trembling from extreme embarrassment, so your face became red after you noticed the position you were in while you were sandwiched between his long legs and everyone’s eyes were staring at both of you.

"I'm so sorry!, I'm really sorry!" You shouted these words, stuttering over some letters, before you quickly got up and fled the place. Ignoring all those frivolous voices talking about you, including the boy who was amazed by what he just saw, as if you were a creature from another world.

You tried to bury the disturbing memory of you away in your mind's graveyard of dead memories, but it would only come back to you every time you went to sleep or met Kaiser from time to time, barely because he was studying with you during your final year.

In the second year, you were lucky to be placed in a different class than his, thus avoiding constant embarrassment for a full nine months and free laser eyes that left marks on your back.

You remember when you ran away at that moment and entered one of the empty classrooms and called directly to your friend who had woken her up from her summer slumber, speaking so quickly that she could not comprehend a single word, to tell you that she would be there when she finished getting ready.

When she came and told her what had happened her mouth hung open To give you information that this boy is one of the best players in the school and is promised to join the national team for boys under twenty years old.

You did not really know that your subconscious mind had tied up many threads that were previously organized and tied them up even more immediately after your friend told you about that. You thought that he was a rude person who got very upset and had a sharp temper that flared up for problems. This is what comes to your mind Whenever you learned that a male was playing football and was one of the popular boys in high school, you prayed to God that night that it would not attract attention and rumors to you from his female fans, and he responded to you.

You stared at the glass ceiling of the hall, and an unusually large number of stars appeared to you in the dark blue sky.

"They look like his eyes." A faint whisper escaped your lips and your attention was drawn to the divine beauty, before you realized what you have just said and slapped your face lightly, asking yourself what nonsense you are saying now.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead with your shirt as you made the last practiced movement, deciding that that was enough for today and that it was time to leave. You poured the water bottle On your sweaty hair, so that the wetness seeped through your clothes, you collected your bag items and turned down the hall, heading towards the girls’ bathroom to wash yourself. Your hand grabbed the handle and moved it repeatedly, but it did not open.

"Oh God please don't tell me this is real not now! no!" You let go of the handle before you could broke it. You're not ready for trouble, and you've had a clean record since you entered this high school, cursing your luck.

You can't leave like this in the middle of the night when your phone's battery is dead, so you can't call your parents to pick you up, and if you walk, you'll probably catch a cold that will leave you bedridden.

You leaned against the wall, trying to think of a quick solution, before an idea occurred to you that you never knew would explain what you had been blind to notice.

You looked right and left while you were on the doorstep of the boys’ bathroom. You were sure that the hallway and the place were empty. You quickly took off your dirty clothes. You pulled your arms back to open your bra. It fell to the floor and then you hid it in the bag. You raised your torso and While you closed it, you decided to stay in your underwear and then remove it later.

Your intuition at that moment told you to turn around, and you did so only to find your alleged enemy standing in front of the door, his eyes wide open.

"kyaaah!!" A terrified scream unconsciously escaped your lips, covering what was visible of your breasts in front of him. What made matters worse was that you heard mixed and loud voices outside, near the door of a group of boys. It must be the football team. My God! You never knew they planned to stay and train like you.

With quick steps and his heart almost exploding, Kaiser quickly walked towards you and took your bag. Then, while you were completely frozen, he pulled you by your arm to the shower place and opened the water tap to its maximum intensity so that drops of semi-hot water fell on everything.

A second passed and the team members started to enter the bathroom with their noise and loud conversations.

!Note! If you have a music application or the song is recorded, please play les by Childish Gambino.

"Keizer wants to quickly escape from here, as if you weren't the king of the field just a minutes before. Great performance!"Ness shouted proudly to his friend, amidst the laughter of the rest.

“Did any of you hear a girl screaming a while ago? I’m sure I did.”

Your eyes widened completely, unable to believe the situation you were in now Kaiser wraps his strong arms around the wall that presses your back, wishing it would swallow you whole.

Kaiser completely covered your body so that neither your shadow nor your figure was visible through the curtain.

Your eyes were in constant contact that did not seem calm at all. Your lips were only two inches apart and you felt his hot breath covering your terrified breathing, he ignored his own and took his index finger to place it on your lips. You quickly felt the warmth of his hand and it sent a stinging sensation to your lips. Considering the height difference, Kaiser tilted himself so that no part of you remained visible.

You pulled your eyes away from his, who flinched in surprise at breaking your eye contact, and his eyes moved to the same direction as yours, who was staring at your completely exposed breasts in front of him. You felt your sockets getting wet and tears falling in a straight line with the streams of water flowing over you both increased the temperature of your bodies, especially your lower ones. Your legs were connected to his due to your slight leaning against the wall.

Kaiser noticed the whites of your eyes that were as red as your face, the trembling of your lips and the biting of them made him feel very bad for every silly second he stared at your chest. He looked away and cursed under his breath for his impudence, while you took your palm to cover your sobs.

Your whole body trembled and you tried to stop yourself from crying, when someone almost pulled the curtain that covered you both to make a joke with Kaiser.

“I'm warning you! Move it, and you'll die at my hands.” Kaiser's harsh voice rang out in the bathroom as he held The end of the curtain is at the top, preventing whoever was about to remove it and exposing both of you in this situation that you will not be able to justify no matter what happens.

The hand that was about to do so stopped and his shadow moved away. Minutes passed and most of them started to leave and only a few remained. You prayed inside yourself that this would go well, and you closed your eyes tightly. You did not know that he had come closer to you Until his chin was right above the top of your head, restraining his thoughts and demons that were telling him to pull back the curtain and show you both to others so that rumors would spread that you were his and the scoundrels would stop sending you confessions. On the other hand, his angels have warned him about this and appealed to him to protect your reputation, which will be destroyed, and the end of the year is nearby.

"I HOPE NOBODY CATCHE US, BUT I KINDA HOPE THEY CATCH US."

Your tears finally stopped after one last hard effort from you. You rubbed your eyes, which were burning with salty tears, before your gaze fell on Kaiser's six-pack muscles visible through the fabric of his wet white training shirt, the blue rose tattoo wraps from his back and arm all the way to his neck. Your eyebrows furrowed In complete confusion, all of this went away when you felt his firm hand moving your wet hair strands away from your face. You raised your eyes up to be met with the view of the midnight sky and the burning stars far away in its depths.

You opened your mouth until your front teeth showed. Oh! if you knew how much he wanted to kiss you at that moment! your cuteness ate his heart just as you stole his mind the first time he saw you. He never knew that a day would come when his heart would have something other than the ball, and surprisingly! it was a person. This put him in a state of complete denial when he felt his heart pumping blood like the excitement has never done on the field. Gradually, he began to realize that the constant pain in his heart, which had put him in a complete state of delirium and insomnia for days on end, still continued whenever his eyes met yours, even for a second was called love. He dreamed of you countless times, and he truly wondered if you were doing the same. His curiosity prompted him to search the net for a long time until he came to the conclusion that if he dreamed about you, it means that you were thinking about or missing him, and in fact! You had dreamed of him several times, waking you up completely sweating in your bed alone and your needy femininity was pulsing with such force, that it prompted you to drag your fingertips and caress your swollen clit while you moaned his name several times. Sometimes you wished he were there to relieve you of the weight of his influence on you, but it was completely impossible since you kept thinking that he hated you.

With the last two people gone and Kaiser making sure that the sound of their footsteps was far away from the bathroom, you quickly pushed Kaiser, who deliberately stepped back to make space for you to get dressed as quickly as possible, not caring for a single moment if you were completely wet.

You passed the doorpost before stopping and turning to Kaiser, who looked like an abandoned cat, balling his fists tightly and his chest rising and falling, truly afraid as to whether or not you had heard the drumbeat of his heart, just before or not.

"Thank you, Kaiser. I will never forget this favor of yours."

Before Kaiser could say a word that he desperately wanted to say to you, you had completely disappeared, leaving the chaos destroying his being. You did not attend high school, neither tomorrow nor the day after, and this was the last time he could see you from that close.

Finished •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀♡♡

You can write to me about requests for stories you want with Blue Lock characters

BYE💘qwq

[pastelwitchling]

Season 4 did Malex so dirty! All that hyping up that Michael was going to go 'feral' when he realized Alex was missing only to have it be two minutes of reacting that was condemned as a 'tantrum'. And Alex just... stopped being allowed to have negative emotions? Couldn't even be afraid of dying, or angry about it? Even the proposal was done as 'marry me because it'll make us happy' instead of 'because I'm scared' which did both of them an injustice. Made Alex difficult to relate to and denied Michael a chance to step up as Alex’s emotional support - he can't support someone who's not allowed to be upset in the first place! (I honestly hated the proposal going down like that - could do an essay on how gross it was for all parties involved, especially Michael not knowing Alex was dying when he was asked)

The perfect way to sum up Alex's storyline (and "arc" according to CAM) is your point exactly, anon; he was deemed too much trouble when he was afraid and angry, so the solution was to just never let him be afraid or angry anymore. And still he was given the consequences to deal with for both of them on his own.

Here's honestly my whole thought on their wedding. The writers saw that Shadowhunters had done the same thing at its end, saw how much people loved it, and thought, Yeah! We could do that!

Never mind the fact that Magnus and Alec spent seasons openly communicating, confessing their fears and anger to one another, dealing with problems together, and trusting each other. Never mind the fact that they had open, adult conversations (AND ALEC IS SUPPOSED TO BE, LIKE, TEN YEARS YOUNGER THAN MALEX) about how Alec doesn't need to date other people to know who he wants and loves. Never mind the fact that Malec's wedding was earned through trials and tribulations that they faced together, with never any doubt that they were allowed to confide in each other and depend on each other.

So you know what that proposal and wedding always was to me?

A copy of malec without the hard work. It worked for Magnus and Alec, it should would work for Alex and Michael.

A "cure-all" for all the damage that was done with malex in the past. Instead of, oh I don't know, having Michael or M*ria face any consequences for their actions and betrayals, eh! We'll just have them get married and let M*ria walk Alex down the aisle without anyone having learned anything or faced any guilt or hard self-reflections! That immediately erases all the harm of the past!

A dried up well of imagination. We have no idea how to properly end the series with these two because we never actually gave much of a crap about them. What is at the center of Alex's universe? Michael! We'll just marry them then, that ought to make the gays happy! Look at how tolerant and diverse we are! We give so much screen time to a woc who is essentially the worst of the villains because unlike them she never faced the consequences of her own actions or acknowledged having done anything wrong, while Alex gets what he's always wanted; Michael Guerin! How lucky is he? Sure, he's a complex character with a rich history, story, and personality, but more important than all of that; he's queer. So let's focus on that and ignore everything else about him because seeing him married is surely more respectful to him as a character than seeing him get the acknowledgment, friendship, apologies, and love he's owed, right?

Golly gee, how the CW just gets the little guy, huh?

That proposal was done as a way to weasel out of the fact that Michael treated Alex like crap. But having them marry automatically makes everything better and totally evens out everything he's done. Because that's all queer people want, really. Seeing two guys marry instead of seeing two guys genuinely love and respect one another. And unfortunately, it seems the writers on that show never really understood that difference.

[tvrningout]

here's some lore regarding eyða that you would just never known unless the deities themselves told you <3

eyða is the only deity that came into being at the same time as sunna. whatever caused sunna's creation caused his, too, and he is the only deity that can truly be considered sunna's equal. her children have always failed to kill or subdue her, but eyða would not have the same trouble.

he was ( and i suppose still kinda is ) a patient, understanding person before endir's birth. he knew his sister would regret killing him, knew that her actions did not hold true malice, knew that it was only a matter of time before she brought him back and apologized. but then she never came, and a castle appeared in the spirit realm. endir appeared. eventually, eyða understood that he was never going home. he understood he was replaced and betrayed and thus became bitter and resentful.

the spirit realm is, in truth, eyða's domain. it is constructed from his soul's essence, and endir's castle splits it in two. one side is tainted by eyða's darkness that grew and festered once he realized what sunna had done. the other side is untouched and where souls waiting to be reincarnated reside; should endir's castle ever fall, it would be consumed by eyða's darkness within minutes, and its residents twisted into dark spirits and fiends.

endir is literally eyða's replacement. sunna eventually came to understand that death must exist, but her shame and pride and fear prevented her from simply facing her brother. this betrayal is, in part, the reason that the spirit and mortal realms must endure the evils of dark spirits. any souls who resided close to eyða were tainted alongside him.

to be specific, eyða is the god of destruction, death, and the end, whereas endir is spefically the god of death and the afterlife.

eyða does not have a physical body nor contact with the mortal realm, but he is a god like sunna, and like her, he is able to influence the mortal realm to an extent. when a great calamity occurs or a mortal falls to the temptation of violence/destruction, it is his doing. hurt and filled with an old darkness, eyða wishes to bring an end to sunna's beloved creations -- the world and all its inhabitants.

i'm contemplating that it is eyða who edmund makes a deal with, possibly promising to become a vessel for his soul once edmund dies. i can't remember if i talked about this here yet bc it's a recent edit, but edmund is a vampire, so he would think that he's tricking a god into a deal that only he would benefit from. maybe it works or maybe it doesn't... i'm undecided bc i do want eyða to be the true big bad, but he might be an atagonist and conflict for another story :' )

[quandaryqueen]

Ok last one, sorry for spam-

YJ, BTAS and Harley Quinn Riddler trying to earn hero's trust starts working with them to lure them into trap. Surprise, suprise they fall for each other but the other rogue that they made made a deal with still goes with plan. Hero after hearing truth just gives him look of total heartbroke and betrayal before successfully running away. How the story ends I give choice to you.

Using you

Edward Nygma X Hero Reader

Whatever he was planning, it needed your involvement, he carve himself a soft spot in your heart and break it at the time of his need without much of a thought about your feelings... Or so he thought.

For the first time you opened up to someone about the heroism and what it means to you as a person. Ironically, he's of the opposing side and yet he was the only one you can ever talk to him about it, how tasking it was the your health, how it limits your interactions, how selfish and guilty you often feel for feeling like this.

Having been instilled that with your ability came the responsibility of using it for the entirety of people you didn't even know. Their praises were uplifting for a while, but it didn't take long until the articles written about you and your performance started to take a toll. You began to focus on the negative media coverage, your collateral damages, how you weren't fast enough to save some civilians, etc etc.

And for a moment you felt understood, in a way, accepted. He validates your feelings, makes you feel as though it is okay to think that sometimes you don't want to be a hero, that you needed a break. How he lifted your spirits up with riddles and jokes, how he'd whisk you up for an impromptu dance, small talks... It made you feel the sense of normalcy you've been yearning. And the companionship you've long desired.

As a hero you really can't open up to someone, afraid of putting them in harm's way out of your selfish need to vent. For awhile, you pushed Edward away for that sole purpose. That, and the fact he's one of the people you fight against, how he can use these intel against you.

And you were stupid for not pushing him hard enough.

💚 Young Justice

The moment he got what he wanted, he never looked back. He was too ashamed to look at the face that made him smile when he made you smile. And to be the root of your despair cuts him wrong. He should be telling you riddles or jokes to make you smile-- not whatever this is.

He is ashamed and guilty, but he doesn't take any sorts of accountability. He acknowledges what he had done was low, he knows how it hurt you, but god now he got what he wanted! This operation has been always about getting what the Light wanted and he can finally get the recognition he deserves!

... But to look back at the time, where he had the iron-willed hero cry on his lap, their well-constructed façade cracking and collapsing under its weight... To be told 'i love you', by the face of the enemy he has to fight, who finally found solace for once in their life, only for it to be counterfeit... It makes his chest clutch.

He can't even look at you, let alone talk to you. He didn't need to, he can feel you seethe in rage and simmer in betrayal. He was dead to you. And he knows you will keep to yourself out of fear of this happening again. He destroyed you for the second time and apologizing was useless.

What he had done to you, cuts deep beyond any foes, beyond words.

"I hope you know that you'll be the reason why I can never trust anyone and feel comfort again." Your voice was trapped between your strained throat, weak but powerful enough to get a point across. "Hope it's worth it."

💚 Batman the animated series

He turns to you with zero reluctance, confronting you, subjecting you into the most hurtful revelation and he watches you collapse with a smile. Deep within his outstretched lips, was a man hiding his tears. He had no right to cry, not when you're the one who is hurt.

The hero in particular, was but another bird under the Bat's wing. At constant pressure, maintain their image of inflicting fear by doing little, let their presence alone halt those who crawl in the night. You were never going to be Batman and it deeply wounds you, as none of the Gotham rogue would ever be afraid of you as much as they are with your mentor.

Not knowing who to confide to, you were so desperate to be heard by anyone, you resort to talk to the Riddler. You didn't even think about what it means when you put him through a field of your feelings, a deep delve into your insecurities, be vulnerable to a man who is capable of killing you with the knowledge... Oh how naïve you were.

"I trusted you, Edward... How could you do this to me?" Beneath the strain of your throat, you painfully squeaked out with your eyes swelling to keep your tears in.

Your high pitched voice were nails on a chalkboard for Eddie, shredding his heart and it didn't show. He maintains his treacherous front. Hate him, he deserves it. Hate him forever and learn from it.

💚 Harley Quinn

He likes to think he formed the mutual attachment you felt with him, was not mutual at all. That you were moronic to think that he, the Riddler, a fucking villain, would ever feel so sorry for a hero who gets constantly shit on by the whole wide world.

"I mean really? You're crying onto me about your fucking life like 'Waaah! Waaah! Oh Eddie they were horrible!' seriously! Grow a pair and face the real world, of course they're going to tell you that you're a fucking moron for failing to rescue others! Welcome to the real world!"

That's not what he said when you were sobbing on his chest. That's not how he acted when you sobbed about the world chewing you out for the littlest mistake. He was running his finger on your back, holding you close, telling you that they were the morons for being ungrateful.

And to see you barely keeping it in, he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and whisper that everything is going to be alright... But it's him. He's the reason why you're crying, why you're probably going to be next in line with Batman at the "emotionally constipated superhero" club.

"I WISH I NEVER MET YOU!"

He wasn't able to relay how he truly felt, until you screamed at him. You didn't have to see him, you knew he never wanted to ease you from your struggles, to love you as you loved him and so you took off. And when you disappeared, he swallows thickly and shook his head. There was no way he'd be found sobbing in regret on the rooftop.

A/N: Ugh, gosh I think my angst writing is rusty. But aye, at least I managed.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Impasse - A Vaderdala Oneshot

“You forget something, Lord Vader.”

Vader flinched, the voice as clear as a bell yet as foreign as the icy vacuum of space. He found himself frozen in place, the bulk of his hefty frame suddenly unbearable. Inside his chest, he felt the searing fingers of remorse and the scalding flames of rage warring for control. 

Against better judgment, he shifted to turn around. Against better judgment, he let down his guard and ignored unclipping his lightsaber. He knew the face he would find before he saw it, but he was still not prepared for the wave of emotion that spilled forth as he came face to face with his own ghosts. This one, he had expected long dead and buried.

“Padmé,” he gasped, but the voice that came out was blunt and deep and void of affection.

Still, the shock bled through. Padmé was as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her. Eyes fierce and determined, dark hair coming loose from her neatly tied bun. Her face was set in a scowl, blaster drawn and aiming straight for the chest panel on Vader’s chest as if it were a marked target meant for practice and precision fire. The air had shifted, the tension thick and heavy and oppressive as they stared each other down. No, more accurately Padmé’s intense, fiery glare was bearing down on Vader. Vader felt his anger dissipate the moment he met that stare; the ice cold regret and guilt crippling him inside out as it won the impasse.

“You said you had come to destroy the Rebellion. I am the last leader standing here. I alone. Will you destroy me now?” Padmé hissed through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed but her hands steady.

Vader was familiar with the vow he had made, but now it seemed an impossible lie. Before his mind’s eye, he had envisioned old men and snot nosed kids. Politicians and traitors and cowards, incapable of accepting the Emperor’s grand design and his expert vision. The future was bright, the Sith had reclaimed their natural state in the circle of life - atop the ladder. Only fools and children would oppose such an evident supply of unlimited power. Yet, Padmé seemed to care for none of these things. Time had not slowed her down, it had not thawed the ice built in her heart - the ice Vader himself had put there.

“Well?” she pressed, voice tight, calm and collected.

The words escaped before Vader had any chance to rein himself in. Perhaps he never intended to.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, as if mocking him but her expression revealed surprise and disbelief.

“Aren’t you here to execute your Rebel traitors?”

Vader said nothing, instead he reached for the saber strapped to his belt. He watched Padmé tense, watched her shoulder come up and the finger on the trigger twitch. In what might have been a gesture of surrender, he simply tossed his weapon between them. The gesture was barely a flick of his wrist, but it sent the hilt skidding across the smooth floors until it came to an premeditated gentle stop at Padmé’s feet. She glanced down to regard the token, an unreadable tinge of something somber gleaming in her eyes for a split second. When she looked back up, Vader had not moved. He stood with his hands at his sides, the bombardment outside the underground bunker shaking its hull; straining the already flickering lights.

“I will not fight you,” said Vader finally, as if that would be enough to soothe the woman’s stubborn spirits.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her lips curling into a half sneer of disgust. It stung, and Vader might have recoiled from that alone had he not been the man he was. Changed, remolded and retooled. His heart had been ripped out once, and still Padmé’s presence willed its withered carcass to beat and blossom. At the same time, she tore it to shreds once more with the disdain her face held for him. He sensed it inside her, swirling and expanding into a palpable loathing. It cloaked her, surrounded her like a cloud. It reeked of pain, sorrow, and betrayal.

“You don’t know me. If you won’t fight, I will,” she said, every word calculated and sincere.

“‘Aggressive negotiations’.”

It was merely a statement, but its meaning rang true. Padmé straightened up, eyes suddenly wide as a ghost of horrified recognition filtered past her defenses. it was gone in the blink of an eye, but the colour that had drained from her already pale face was harder to conceal.

“Who told you?” she snarled, shifting the aim of her blaster towards Vader’s heart - knowing it would do no harm, but the gesture hit him like a slap across the face either way.

She was questioning how he had learned about her and The Jedi. Anakin Skywalker, her husband. Perhaps she had her sneaking suspicions, she must. But her aura betrayed none of it, it remained outraged and unsettled and adamant in her quest.

“You did.”

Padmé opened her mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but she snapped it close again. A tremor passed her slight frame, and it did not go unnoticed. Her resolve was faltering and waning, the lie she had convinced herself to believe no less a stretch of the imagination than the mental gymnastics Vader himself had been performing for the past four years. Ever since Mustafar, ever since he lost everything. Now, that very everything lost stood before him. Now, she was once more within his reach.

“I’m sorry. I tried,” he heard himself say, a feeble apology not nearly sufficient to excuse the heinous acts he had committed.

The voice was still not his own, but the words were earnest. Padmé lowered her blaster in slow, jerky motions but her eyes were transfixed on his. At the very least, Vader felt their gaze burn straight into his soul; into the furnace of his heart that had frozen over a million times. 

“You’re safe.”

It was a ridiculous profession, Padmé’s very existence as part of the Rebellion was a death sentence. But she was alive, she was well and healthy and stable and here. She had not died. He had failed her, but she had lived. He took one step towards her, feeling just as wary and insecure as she looked. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a tiny micromovement. She mouthed something, but there was no sound accompanying the motion. Vader understood her fear, yet it pained him to no end. He was unrecognizable, locked within this jettblack prison of durasteel, cybernetics and synth flesh. There was so little left of his physical body, and even less of the man Padmé had once loved.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, hoarse as the tendons at the sides of her neck strained.

Vader felt the urge to cry, an urge so overpowering. An urge that had not found him since Mustafar, since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic. He had no tears to cry, no measure to shed tears by. His retinas, his tear ducts were long since eaten away by flames and embers. Still, his eyes stung. A warmth pressed behind them, a heaviness bearing down on his chest like a fist squeezing the air out of his lungs. Lungs he no longer had.

“Do what you must. I am not afraid to die.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, mouth falling open as realization dawned upon her. She understood. Vader expected her to back away, expected her to cry, to yell, to fire. Anything. Instead, she stood stone faced. As frail as porcelain, yet as sturdy as the brightest star in the Galaxy. Now, she took a step towards him. Then another. Closing the gap, inch by inch, foot by foot. She tipped her head back, never once drawing her eyes from the opaque crimson lenses of Vader’s eyes that substituted eyes. They served for the damaged, half blind eyes hidden behind.

“What have they done to you?” Padmé’s resolute voice murmured; full of compassion and love, emotions that seemed to have sprung out of the ether.

Yet, what she really meant was; what have you done to yourself?

Vader did not falter as she stopped but a breath away. Her trembling, slender fingers reached for his face plate. Her tiny hand brushed over the mouthpiece, running over the sharp angles and the netted grill. A breath was forced through it, with a loud hiss and the smell of sanitizer and bacta fluids followed it. Padmé’s eyes were round, warm, and mournful. They were glassy, her cheeks flushed but it was Vader who wished more than ever that he might shed a tear. If she were to strike him down, he deserved it. He would allow it. He would let her.

“Anakin.”

It was not a question. She knew, it was evident in the pitiful, feeble smile of shock and relief alike that grazed her lips. It was gone in an instant, but it had said enough. So used to denouncing his name, denouncing himself and all he was and had been - Vader found himself unable to deflect her. She was right. He had been wrong for so long, choosing to live in darkness and denial. No more.

“Yes.”

Anakin meant it.

****

Have a short Vaderdala AU.

[edenmemes]

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present. 

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞   ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞       ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞   ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞       ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞   ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞   ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞   ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞   ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞   ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞   ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞   ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing?    do you think it is a serious wound? ❞   ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞   ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞   ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞   ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞   ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞   ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞   ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞   ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞   ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞   ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞   ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞   ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞   ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞   ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞   ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞   ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞   ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞   ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞   ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞   ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞   ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞   ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞   ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞   ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞   ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞   ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞   ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞   ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞   ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞   ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞   ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞   ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞   ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞   ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞   ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞   ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞   ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞   ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞   ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞   ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞   ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞   ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞   ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞   ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞   ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about...    about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞   ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞   ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞   ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞   ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞   ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞   ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞   ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞   ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞   ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞       ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞   ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞   ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞   ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞   ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞   ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞   ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞   ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞   ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞   ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞   ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞   ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞   ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞   ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞   ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞   ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞   ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞   ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞   ❝ people change.    it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞   ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞   ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞   ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞   ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞   ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞   ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞   ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞   ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞   ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞   ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞   ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞   ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞   ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞   ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞   ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞   ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞   ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞   ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞   ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞   ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞   ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞   ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞   ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞   ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞   ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞   ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞   ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞   ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞   ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞   ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞   ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞   ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞   ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞   ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞   ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞       ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞       ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞       ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞       ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞   ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞       ❝ please, you must fight for me.    who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞   ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞   ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞       ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞       ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞   ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞   ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞   ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞   ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞   ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞   ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞   ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞   ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞   ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞   ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞   ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞   ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞   ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞   ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞   ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞   ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞   ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞   ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞   ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞   ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞   ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞   ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞   ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞   ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞   ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞   ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞   ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end.     that i will not allow. ❞   ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞   ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞   ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞   ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞   ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞   ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞   ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞   ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞   ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞   ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞   ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞   ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞   ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞   ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞   ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞       ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞   ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞   ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞       ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.)   ❞   ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞   ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞   ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.)   ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞   ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞   ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞   ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞       ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞       ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞   ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞   ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞   ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞   ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞   ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞   ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞   ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞   ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[renegades-garbage]

Its Over

I wrote a Renegades fanfic. Its the first fic I’ve ever written and I know it’s not that great. If you have any constructive criticism(emphasis on constructive), or any writing tips I would love to hear them! Anyways here it is. It takes place right after the end of Supernova.

It’s over. Nova thought as she looked out at the city her uncle had almost destroyed. She had devoted her whole life to this cause-to Ace’s cause and now it was over, and she was on his enemy’s side. She knew it was for the best. Wasn’t getting revenge on her family’s killer her goal this whole time? Though she couldn’t deny the guilt that settled in her stomach. Guilt for betraying the anarchists, for lying to Adrian and the team who she tried so hard not to like, even for tricking the council who she’d despised since she was six. What was she supposed to do now? She wondered. Everything she thought she knew had just been shattered and she had never been so unsure of herself.

“Nova!” Adrian called, pulling her from her thoughts. Kind, loving, caring Adrian Everhart who, for reasons she couldn’t explain(but was very grateful for), didn't despise her. 

She turned to see that he was walking towards her and away from the spot where Simon had locked Max in a death gripping hug. Seeing the two finally together made her lips twitch into a slight smile and she turned her attention back to the boy walking toward her. 

While she still felt absolutely horrible for lying to him, this was the first time she looked at him with hope for the future-for their future, together. They obviously had lots to work through but she no longer had to worry about the weight of maintaining her false identity, and she no longer had to worry about the fact that loving him was a betrayal in and of itself. 

“Wow” Adrian said as he stared at the damage that had been caused by the battle. He was closer to the edge of the roof then she dared to go for fear of seeing Ace’s broken body on the concrete below.

“Yeah.” she laughed humorlessly. “Wow.”

He turned to face her and they just stared at each other for a few seconds. Nova looked at him and thought about just how much she had hurt him, and what could have happened if this day had gone differently. He was still shirtless and she could see the wounds that Honey gave him, and she could have prevented.

“I'm so sorry.” she said, hoping he could tell just how much she meant it.

“I know” Adrian said, and she could tell he understood the weight of her apology. “I'm sorry too. I lied to you about the sentinel when I told the rest of the team, and now I know I created phobia, and he-”

Nova cut him off by wrapping her arms around his neck. He let out a breath and immediately welcomed her into his arms. She felt safe and warm in Adrian’s embrace and she was so thankful for him. 

“Hey um I don’t mean to interrupt but…” They both turned to see Max standing next to them awkwardly. 

She stepped back a little expecting him to say something to his brother and was surprised to see him turn to her. 

“I just wanted to say thank you”

She looked at him confused. What did this kid have to thank her for? She had nearly gotten his family killed. Hell, she had nearly gotten him killed yet he was thanking her?

“For saving my life.” he said as though it was obvious. “Twice” he added. 

“Oh.” She said as hesitant a smile took over her face. “You don’t have to thank me for that. It was my pleasure.” she said only partly joking. 

Max smiled and hesitated for a second before he hugged her tightly. She was surprised and tensed up a bit before wrapping her arms around his small body to return the hug. “I mean it. Also, you’re kind of awesome, ya know, climbing buildings and fighting people and all that. Don’t let it go to your head though.

She laughed. “I’ll try”

Max let go of her and ran back to his dads. Nova could tell being out of the quarantine was going to be good for him. She turned back to Adrian who was wearing his signature smile. She could see the dimples on his cheeks and he took her breath away as always.

“For the record I think you're kind of awesome too.” He said putting his arms back around her waist, and kissing the top of her head.

“Thanks.” She said, chuckling, and a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“My dads said you could stay at my house, at least for now.”

“Okay” She replied, though she was slightly shocked that they still trusted her to be in their home after everything that’s happened. 

Adrian pulled back a little and looked down at her. They held eye contact for only a moment before he leaned down and kissed her. The moment their lips touched she knew that everything was going to be okay. She knew that despite the guilt they both felt and the lies that still plagued them, they would be fine in the end. She knew that she loved him and love was stronger than anything that threatened to tear them apart.

Adrian pulled away and laced their fingers together. 

“Let’s go home.” he said.

[kuroos-moon]

『  Mistaken Kisses 』

a/n: i really suck at reading word per word huh, my eyes kinda missed accidentally 🤠✨ anon i apologize for being trash pls i’ll make it up to you anytime 😭 

part two | atsumu, sakusa, kenma

pairings: oikawa x reader, tsukishima x reader, sugawara x reader, kuroo x reader

warning/s: slight angst (for all except Suga), language

☾ Oikawa Tooru

unbelievable 

leaving the gym late at night and the first thing he sees is you being kissed by someone else

short-circuits, wanting to lash out and sink into the abyss out of depression at the same time 

it’s the ultimate heartbreak for him rlly and it manifests into ugly annoyance and anger

He watches you push him off, his hand twitching to slap the guy in the face as hard as he serves. “Kunimi-kun, can you hand me that ball over there,” he says, his junior quick to follow his demand at the rare occurrence of his serious demeanor. 

One minute you’re cursing at the person and the next he’s on the ground, groaning in pain with a bloodied nose, the volleyball now bouncing off somewhere. You look to the source and freeze when you see your frowning boyfriend who looked so disappointed in you. 

He only walks off as if he hadn’t seen anything, with you practically jogging in long strides to catch up with him. 

“Toru, I know how you must feel but I didn’t want it either!” You try to reason with him but he pretends to not hear, tightening his grip on his bag as he continues to walk away. 

You grab him by his wrist making him stop to look at you, “oh, y/n-chan didn’t see you there! Why’re you here, did you finish so soon with your other guy?” His smile doesn’t fool anyone at all with his eyes cold and piercing. 

“You saw how I pushed him away! He kissed me out of nowhere,” tears start to gloss your eyes, normally it would stop him from acting childish when you guys fought before but right now, he simply can’t shake off the feeling of betrayal. 

He scoffs, “how would you feel if I have other girls kiss me?” 

You glare at him, knowing fully well how childish and immature he could be but this was a tad bit too much. “I wouldn’t like it all! But I didn’t let him kiss me, you saw so yourself! Don’t be so difficult!” 

“Are we done here?” He spitefully says, withdrawing his arm from your hold. You watch him in disbelief when he actually walks away again, leaving you there.

To your surprise though, he turns on his heel and makes his way over to you with a frown, muttering under his breath and all you hear was “stupid, stupid, baka, everything’s so stupid.”

“Are you alright?” He asks, a small scowl on his lips as he refused to look at you. “I was surprised when he grabbed me, Toru, I really wouldn’t do that to you,” you manage to choke out despite the lump in your throat, and he looks at you in alarm.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he coos, tucking locks of your hair behind your ears before cupping your face.

“It’s getting late, let’s go home, yeah?” He smiles, before you both walk in the dark streets hand in hand.

☾ Tsukishima Kei

first off, what the actual fuck

he stands still, unconsciously clenching his fists by his sides as he watches you push off the guy

“I’m sorry, I was dared to,” he explains and you hold the look of disgust, frightened when you finally see Tsukishima 

in a heartbeat, the person who kissed you was on the ground, having been kicked by Tsukki out of nowhere 

“Tsukki!” You hiss, going up to his side immediately while he looked down on the guy clutching his side. “Ah, gomen, gomen, did it hurt?” He says with false sincerity, a taunting smirk playing at his lips and you actually fear for what he was going to do next. 

“Tsukki, it’s fine, let’s just go,” you tug on the white shirt he wore, fresh from practice thus the sweat. He momentarily scans your face and he could tell you were frightened and disgusted all at the same time, but what was this bitter feeling he felt? 

Unreasonable jealousy that’s what. 

He sighs before wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he brings you inside the gym, leaving you in the care of Yamaguchi for a while before he exits the gym once more, grabbing the poor kid by the collar. 

“Who gave you the fucking right to kiss my girlfriend?” He sneers in a low chilling voice, scoffing at the terrified expression he wore. “Pathetic,” he tuts before letting him go, deciding it was best to check on you first. 

You’re both in the changing room now, and he had you drink water while he stood shirtless before you. “Next time you should really wait inside,” he tells you, the image burned to the back of his mind that was no good for his temper at all.

“I’m sorry Tsukki,” you guiltily say, looking down at your feet. It actually bothered him so much to have seen you being kissed by someone else, but he knows how none of it was your fault, he really does, that’s why he felt so bad for being slightly irritated at you but he can’t help it. 

“Whatever, let’s go,” he says, finally putting on a shirt and not waiting for you to stand up as he leaves the room first. 

☾ Sugawara Koushi 

this baby’s lit up face as he makes his way over to your classroom contorts to a look of pain once he sees you

before the ache grew he had already assessed the situation though, seeing as how you’d pushed him off cursing

but what the fUck he is anything but chill 

doesn’t really show though as he makes his way over to you, hand resting at the small of your back

You instantly feel safe and secure, looking up to meet his soft eyes on yours, he wanted to reassure you that he understood and that he wasn’t mad at you one bit, it still kinda sucked though. 

“Koushi, he suddenly did it, I don’t know why,” you explain and he strokes your hair, “I know, don’t worry about it,” he smiles. He instantly looks at the pathetic excuse of a guy before you, and the still smiling Suga spooked him out. 

“Why’d you kiss her though, h/n-kun?” He politely asks, and you questioningly look at him, like how is he so calm and like?? not loud?? You’re very much aware how he is when he explodes. 

“I’m sorry man, I just kinda thought she’d like it,” he sheepishly says, avoiding his eyes. You’re both caught in surprise when Suga chuckles, and it almost sounded legit if not for the cold and vicious look pointed at him. 

“Daijoubu, daijoubu,” he says, making his way over to him, and you’re beyond confused when he sticks out his hand, the naive boy stupidly accepting it. 

“You better not come anywhere near her again though,” he warns, his voice dropping low and cold as he looks him straight in the eyes. “I won’t do it again, but we’re classmates so- ow,” he winces. 

You glance down at their hands, noticing how his was obviously being squeezed tight and hard by Suga himself. “I get it, I get it,” he huffs, taking his hand away. “Geez,” he mutters, eyeing Suga darkly before he walks off, and not soon after, he stumbles to the ground because of Suga’s stuck out foot. 

“You didn’t even apologize to her, where are your manners?” He frowns, “dirtbag.” 

Suga took you to an isolated hallway after that, doting on you, and once you’ve assured him you were fine and all, you’re embraced in a warm long hug. “It must’ve pissed you off, Koushi,” you say, guilt behind your voice. 

He merely hums in approval, running his hand up and down your back. “It did, I really really wanted to beat him up but,” he sighs dramatically, and you raise a brow. “I don’t wanna be a bad guy in front of you,” he offers a shy smile. 

☾ Kuroo Tetsuro 

like Oikawa, he would practically stop functioning for a while like what even- what tf in the world is he seeing

he could’t process it, you’d never do that to him but it hurt him so much

quick to catch on that it was without your consent though as you struggled to push him off 

needless to say, i think we all know how Kuroo with his towering height and buffed build could be scary and intimidating

“It was a prank, a harmless prank bro!” He defends, panicked as he was pinned to the locker door behind him with Kuroo clutching on his collar. 

“Harmless?” He repeats with a tone of disdain, and you could practically feel his shiver at Kuroo’s words while you watched their exchange. “Kuroo, please don’t start something,” you touch his arm hesitantly, worried about your teacher’s pet and perfect-deportment boyfriend. 

“I’d never,” he grins sadistically, yanking him before slamming him back to the locker. “Tetsu!” You hiss, trying to pull at him but it did absolutely nothing. “I swear it was just a prank, I planned to kiss any girl- 

“And out of all the girls you decided to kiss mine?” He almost growls, and they both had a resemblance of that of a predator and its prey. “Tetsu, stop it!” You demand, and he does, immediately letting him go and scoffing when he runs away. 

“Calm down,” you hold both his hands in yours, and his dark eyes look at you. He remains quiet, taking you with him as he walks off to the empty volleyball court. 

“Are you mad?” You hesitantly ask, looking at his back as he turned on the lights, “furious,” he shortly answers. He really was fuming mad, no matter how rare he got angry, the incident a while ago was like a stab to the chest for him. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling small as you stood still in your spot. He halts his actions though once he hears you, “I wish I could turn back time to avoid him but- 

“Sweetheart I’m not mad at you,” he cuts you off, guilt consuming him as he reflected on his actions a while ago; not once had he asked if you were okay, instead he succumbed to his anger and disregarded how you felt. 

“You’re not?” You ask, looking up at him, and he sighs, “come here,” he opens his arms, and you’re more than happy to rush towards him. “I’m sorry for losing my cool,” he says after you practically threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble against his chest, and he clenches his jaw, the mere memory of it making him feel hurt and angered at the same time. “It wasn’t your fault, but it totally sucked, I’ll give you that,” he groans, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“Let’s get you home so you could brush your teeth thrice, and then let’s make out,” he grins. 

________________________________________

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh​ 

[stramberryparadice]

SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN #139 - THE IMPOSSIBLE FREEDOM ?

Here is the English translation of the post I wrote here in French.

I apologize in advance for my mistakes, I'm not good in English but I hope that will be understood.

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

Shingeki no kyojin is finished. A leading manga of the 21st century has just ended in tears, blood, mourning, disappointment, frustration… and love. So many emotions come to me when I read this final chapter, I needed to express them as clumsily as it is. I’m sure it’s going to get lost in the Internet, but whatever— it is necessary to remove both the joy and the frustration that I feel to pay tribute to Isayama who offered us a work as powerful as it is cursed.

As intense as it is uneven, as perfect as it is imperfect.. like his tragic hero Eren Jäger, who shows us that men are so weak and pitiful in the face of time and the cruelty of the world. How much even if this hero possesses in his hands the power of a God. My analysis will surely be clumsy, I apologize. And I will not fail to point out at the end the bitterness felt on the final development of some characters including that of Misaka Ackerman.

Eren like “CryBaby”

What a slap for the reader to witness such an emotional picture. Yes. Isayama reminds us to what extent Eren isn't a brave knight, not a charismatic hero, not the genocidal demon of this story but a child.. whose weight of Destiny is too heavy to bear. Scan 139 reminds us to what extent we have lost ourselves, just as Eren has in the way, forgetting the very essence of the story that has been told to us from the beginning. It’s not a story of geopolitical warfare, a biological parasite, titanic monsters, a northern deity, or a philosophical-esoteric trip. It's the story of a boy who wants to emancipate himself, to live for himself, tasted of the thirst for adventure, the tranquility of his loved ones but born in a cruel and alienating world that leaves room only for death, abuse of power, betrayal and despair .

A journey where the child becomes an adult at the cost of his or her life. Learning the most painful lesson… To be an adult is to renounce one’s dreams, to bend one’s knee in the face of the servitude of one’s mortal condition, to be content with one’s cage in order to enjoy the little that one can have at one’s disposal, to mourn those who may disappear from one’s life.

A young boy who dreamed only of freedom, surrounded by people who love him. A child whose inspirations, as impulsive, unreasonable and immature as they may be, will push him to his limits. A child who grew up too fast, who could not mourn his mother, aware of her physical and spiritual weakness, who was confronted with the violence of this world which reminded him of his condition of being insignificant, a pawn on the chessboard of the "Way".

A child whose powers worthy of a God then gives him the possibility to realize the unthinkable, almost the absolute fantasy of every Man : to shape a world in his image, to be as free as a bird flying above the clouds without reddish stain to touch the sky. Move forward, Move forward whatever the price… move forward for an illusion of freedom, for an infantile obsession.

And by assuming the role of the wicked “demon” of tales so that the brave knights can free this world from the evil that eats it.

Lost between the present, the past, the future.. time no longer makes sense. Only finality counts, annihilating its titans whatever the price. They have to pay for his mother. They have to pay for his fallen comrades. They must pay for reminding us of our pitiful helplessness as human beings.

But the Demon also has a heart, remorse, feelings, there are people who attach him to this world. Therefore, what to choose?

Divine Freedom or Mortal Love? The impossible equation... Although Eren may have travelled the road in search of the answer, how can freedom and humanity be reconciled? Free your people and protect your loved ones, though imperfect?

______

He will not find the answer— neither by searching the past of the goddess Ymir, not by consulting the other Titans carriers, not by creating the different alternative realities that led to the same observation… only death can free the bird from its cage, only the death of Humanity is able to reconcile the sublime and the hideous. Or rather, a common enemy that will crystallize all their ills. But who would be crazy, brave enough to accept being the victime ?

Like a Christic figure, Eren will assume this role. But not without having to confide his last wishes, his last secrets that can no longer contain… because yes, the demon is limited by his adult condition of 19 years. Yes.. the child has grown up. Recklessness, impulsiveness, daring in the face of death, the omnipotence of the child leaves room for a teenager who is now afraid of dying, who has succumbed to love, who doubts, who is aware of his weakness.

Eren has finally become a man...in pain. He finally accepts his feelings, his weakness in the face of death that awaits him.

He’s not a running child anymore. The plates are only explicit about this. The power of narration.. we come back to the fundamental of this history, which is human psychology. The feelings, the relationships that unite all people between them. Friends or enemies, men or women, child or adult, Eldien or Mahr... Despite our differences, our disagreements, we are all equal and weak in the face of death... but also in the face of the love we can bring to others.

Yes, Eren is a weak hero. Yes, he admits to loving Mikasa. He admits that until the very end, he didn't know how it was going to go. That he was himself a pawn in the divine game of Ymir. Another puppet at the service of a little girl who is also blinded by her duality, by her toxic love for her executioner. One cannot remain insensitive to this remarkable development of the character of Eren whose death was inevitable. For whoever plays with divinities can only lose his humanity, his freedom too. By the ultimate sacrifice of his selfish and human desires finally. Eren alone became the true savior of this world. He will also have kept his promise to his friends, to the beings he loves by offering them last memories through the “Way”.

Selfless Love or True Freedom

As Mikasa said: The world is cruel, but also … Very beautiful.

Whoever sets a glance without hatred on the world, with compassion, with love for his neighbor will be able to claim to touch with the finger this Freedom so sought.. a selfless love, not turned to satisfy one’s own selfish desires.

Because Love, like hate, takes different forms.

Love connecting us to our roots, our family of blood…

Love binding two beings who love each other, desire each other, cherish each other, seek each other….

Love that binds us to his comrades, his battalion, his family of choice, his heart…

Love that life brings to us in all its forms…

Love… this power that is unpredictable and uncontrollable.

And that can become the obsession of a lifetime. It is by becoming an obsession that love becomes as destructive as hatred, and sends us back to our condition as an alienated Man… locked up in his “Path”, in his cage.

It's by demonstrating resilience and self-sacrifice that man can taste freedom. We can find redemption in the love that others have for him, that we also have for him. For a few hours, a few years…

At the cost of a renewal of the cycle of hatred, because man remains selfish, not all are ready to make sacrifices. Therefore, Mikasa and Eren have made the greatest of sacrifices for the survival of their comrades and the world: they give up their chance to be happy together, sacrifice their desire to be together for the rest of humanity. As in tragedies, the main heroes are victims of Destiny, are those who will pay the price so that others can flourish and live. The children have become adults.

Just as Armin is no longer the whiny little boy to protect. Unlike Eren, he managed to learn from his mistakes, grieve, face his own fears, confess his love to the girl he loves. It is finally he who will raise the wounded little boy, who will comfort him.

The frustration

Mikasa is the main character of the story. It's through her that awakening is made, it is through her hand that she closes this long journey. In Eren’s memories, it is always central. It is the key, the final solution.

It's his psychological, his emotional journey that we will follow throughout the manga. Eren is only a complement, the character who crystallizes his goals. In a world where men are “dominant”, the woman must bend her knee, support her prince so that the light shines on him. Isayama knew how to play perfectly on this classic code of narration. Whether one agrees or not with the conclusion of certain female characters, the work often highlights the fact that men are only victims of their passions and obsessions.

-------

Only women seem to emerge victorious in the face of the cruelty of the world : they take up arms (Historia), continue to fight in the face of despair (Mikasa), enjoy life and bring joy around her (Sasha), support other women in their emancipations ( Ymir with Historia) question their education (Gaby) disobey (Annie), go against the “moral” principles to survive (Ymir Frizt who continues to love his executioner), sacrifice for the common good (Hanzi Zoe)… But of course… without also paying the price of sacrifice and making concessions.

Historia bears a child of a man whom she does not seem to like but assumes the role of the mother whom she would have liked to have while assuming the heavy attribute of the office of Queen in a country plagued by nationalist tendencies guided by fear. With Eren’s help, she did not give in to the temptation of self-sacrifice but decided herself who she would save or not, what path she wanted to follow. Her desire was to be a mother, a good mother. Whatever the father, it was an indestructible motherly love that she wanted to offer to a child. The one she never had.

Mikasa agreed to kill Eren because, if she had given him another answer, their life as fugitives would have been but a fleeting dream and Eren’s death was inevitable.

Despite her powerful love for Eren (as addicted as he may be, explained by the power of the Ackermans?), she will break the chains of her servitude by killing her only Love. She is the light. She accomplished the journey of a true heroine by demonstrating resilience, by giving of herself for the world.

She had only eyes for Eren.. was open to others, to show empathy, a desire to continue living for other comrades who are dear to him.

-------

Mikasa also leads the way in Ymir Fritz… you can love a monster, you can be a prisoner of a toxic relationship but you can free yourself from it. One can become free, but the price to pay will be to carry this infinite sadness, this frustration of having been able to live another story if things would have been different. By her kiss, she showed what true Love is.

Although the frustration is present, although we would have liked her to turn the page and rebuild her life, she must also pay the price of her “freedom”, of her “survival”: haunted by the sacrifice of Eren, guardian of her memories, from her grave as if to preserve her existence as long as she can live.

Once again, women show that they are stronger than we think. So Ymir was also able to free himself of his toxic link with the King by making the Titans disappear.

In the image of the bittersweet end of the chapter, which shows us that the disappearance of a monster, of a divine force “responsible” for the horrors, is not the long-awaited salvation.

The vices, the human fears will remain the poison, preventing us from reaching this illusory freedom. Men do not need deities to dig their own way to death.

-----

From "occidental" point of view, it is true that this is a blow to the “strong” women of the work still alive. Reduced to being collateral victims of Love, as toxic as this link may be (Ymir-Mikasa). Reduced to attaching themselves to winning or losing romantic figures depending on whether their love-interests is the villain of the story (Mikasa-Annie). Reduced to their role as mother-benefactor (Historia-Gaby).

It’s awkward, but I think Isayama wanted to show that no one is spared. That no character can claim complete tranquility and sweet freedom.

Everyone has had to sacrifice something to survive, and women and men are equal in this judgment. Women also remain victims in a world that remains dominated also by the cruelty of Men (the human race in general). They are not completely free, they are also trapped in roles.

Everyone carries the weight of his choice. That characters have a duty to remember, to pass on to future generations the horrors they have lived to try not to reproduce the same mistakes. Even if their new life choices are imperfect, disappointing for those on the outside.

Levi sacrificed many of his comrades to fulfill his promise to Erwin in his quest for truth and to continue the fight for Eldian freedom.

Armin and Mikasa sacrificed Eren: their friend, their love, the dearest being to fulfill their promise to discover the outside world and touch that freedom.

Like Levi Ackerman and his love for his battalion comrades. As for Mikasa and his love for Eren (because she saw the human behind the monster). She has been waiting for a sign for 3 years to see him again in order to follow up on “see you later Eren”.

Finally, a bird comes to give him his wrap. To encourage him to go forward again. To continue to live…

--------

The most free people are those who honestly and sincerely love someone. Those who are able to see the beauty of the world despite its ugliness. Who give without waiting for return. Those who continue to look at the world without hatred, those who do not succumb to its cruelty. Tears are running down…

[fazar234]

Can’t Show My Face

Hey everyone! I’m proud to announce the full fic is finally here! (I ended up finishing this sooner than I thought lol) With that being said, enjoy!

(tw: self-harm)

Tags/Inspirations:  @hughjidiot , @eeveearoace-creative , @space-lynn , @dawn-is-gay , @thecrusadercomrade , @iamnota-sexualperson and @iamthelordoftime

After everything that had happened, Sasha Waybright had never expected her life to start taking a turn for the better.

It had been two whole months since Sasha and Grime attempted (and failed) to overthrow King Andrias, who revealed himself to be a tyrant bent on conquering multiple worlds, starting with Earth. Two whole months since Marcy confessed to having stranded them on Amphibia intentionally out of the fear of losing them. Two whole months since Anne activated her powers, thinking she’d lost Sprig, and attacked Andrias. Two whole months since Anne and her frog family, the Plantars, fled into the portal for Earth.

Two whole months since Anne and Sasha both had to watch Marcy get stabbed by that tyrant, an apology barely escaping her lips.

Since that day, Sasha and Grime had taken refuge in Wartwood, and started a new and improved rebellion, consisting of not just toads, but also the frogs and newts as well. Sasha herself had begun trying to be a better person, getting to know the town better, who also came to know her better. She had befriended Ivy Sundew, the girlfriend of Sprig Plantar, whom Sasha had tried to kill that day at Toad Tower (the subject was still awkward for the both of them). She had protected them from Andrias’ robots, but they helped fight too sometimes. She had even managed to make up with Percy and Braddock, after some tough conversations.

Sasha had come to love Wartwood. It was funny, really. Before, she had only seen the town and its people as something to rule over, to control. But now, it felt like a home, a real home, one where she could be loved, cared for, and understood, unlike her home and parents back on Earth, who never bothered to listen to her.

One fine afternoon however, Sasha was heading back to the Plantars’ house to check up on Bessie and MicroAngelo, the two snails of the farm, when suddenly someone yelled “AMBUSH!” and tackled Sasha to the ground. She didn’t need to look up to know that it was her friend Ivy.

“Ha! Gotcha again!” Ivy exclaimed, as Sasha sat up, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, you sure did,” Sasha chuckled, before asking, “So, uh, what’s gotten you so excited today kid?”

“Oh, you are NOT gonna believe this,” Ivy said, bouncing up and down as Sasha giggled at the sight. What she heard next, though, made her freeze.

“Anne’s back!”

Sasha blinked once, trying to understand if she had just heard her correctly. “Wait, what? What do you mean she’s back? W-what are you talking about?”

“I said Anne’s back, genius,” Ivy replied, rolling her eyes, unaware of the fear in Sasha’s voice. “One of our spies spotted her and the Plantars in a nearby village, northeast of Wartwood. Should be about a few hours before she arrives, which will give us enough time to throw a Welcome-Back PARTYYYY!” she whooped, stretching the last word. Her smile faded when she saw the look on Sasha’s face. “Uh…Sasha? You ok?”

Sasha didn’t respond, her mind too clouded with fear and dread of her inevitable reunion with Anne, especially after what had happened the last time the two were together. Memories flashed, her first fight with Anne at Toad Tower, when she let go of Anne’s hand, her second fight with Anne on the Newtopian gates after her second betrayal, where she was more furious and untrusting than ever, and refused to listen to her warnings about Andrias. Her words echoed in her head, words that had opened her eyes ever since.

“You’re a horrible person, Sasha, and I’m DONE being friends with you!”

She’ll be angry if she sees me. She’ll think I’m hurting them, and she’ll try to kill me. I can’t show my face to her. I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I-

“I can’t,” Sasha whispered, and with that, she ran off towards the barn, much to Ivy’s surprise and concern, past Grime who never got the chance to welcome her back, and locked herself in.

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

Ivy ran after Sasha, concerned for the blonde, as it wasn’t normal for her to just run like that (She had done that before when she first returned to Wartwood, but still). She had always known that Sasha would be nervous about seeing Anne again, provided that things between them were rough, but she didn’t think she would be THAT scared.

She headed towards the barn, where she found Captain Grime, the toad that Sasha served, knocking on the door, asking her to let him in. She ran up, gave Grime a quick wave, and knocked.

“Sasha?” she called. “Are you in there?” No response, except for a few audible whimpers and sobs, which showed just how stressed the blonde was.

She looked towards Grime. “Alright, old toad. On the count of three, we break in. Ready?”

“I’m not that old, but fine,” Grime grumbled as he prepared his hammer.

“One…two…THREE!”

Their strength combined, the two broke the door to the barn (Hop Pop was going to give them an earful for that) and found Bessie and MicroAngelo, who nodded their heads towards where Sasha was. But they were NOT ready for the sight that awaited them: Sasha cowering in the corner of the barn , hugging her knees, and scratching at the scars that littered her arms, which had come from battling hordes of robots sent after her.

“She…here…too soon…can’t…” she whimpered as she continued to scratch at the scars, making them even worse.

“Sasha…Sasha, no,” Grime whispered as he ran towards her and tried to stop her, who flinched in response. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s ok, I’m here. Name three things you can see.”

“Y-your eye, your hammer, a-and Bessie,” Sasha answered, through choked sobs.

“Good, now how about three things you can feel?” Grime prompted.

“G-grime, I can’t…”

“Fine, just one thing then.”

“…y-your armor,” she sniffed as she began to sob into Grime’s arms, as the toad comforted her. Ivy remained silent for a bit. Then she spoke up.

“We need to get her to my place, now. And not just for the scratches.”

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

“Aaaaand, done!” Felicia Sundew, the mother of Ivy, exclaimed as she put a bandage on the last scar. “That should do it for now, darlin!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Sundew,” Sasha replied as she lay down in a bed given to her, her voice thankful but tired. “You didn’t really have to—"  

“Nonsense!” Felicia insisted. “You were clearly in bad shape when Ivy brought you in, so I just did what I had to. She wants to talk to you, by the way.”

Sasha sighed, knowing what she was in for. “Alright, bring her in.”

Felicia opened the door and in came Ivy, who looked concerned. “You two go ahead, I’ll be out if you need anything, alright?” Felicia said as she left the room.

“Sure thing, mom!” Ivy replied, then hopped up on bed and sat next to the blonde. “So, uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Sasha lied.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you were LITERALLY hiding in the barn and hurting yourself?!”

Sasha flinched and sighed. “Fine, you got me. I-I’m just scared…”

“Of seeing Anne again?” Ivy asked, in a softer tone. “Is it because of what happened back in Newtopia?”

Sasha quietly nodded. Telling Wartwood the full story of what happened hadn’t been easy, especially the part with the Toad Rebellion. She had been scared of losing the town’s trust, scared that the town would go back to hating her, scared that her attempts to change would have been all for naught. To her surprise, though, the citizens were sympathetic and understanding, assuring her that while she had made a mistake, she did the right thing by admitting it. “It’s just…I really messed up badly with her, y’know? I took her for granted; I merely saw her as someone who could be pushed around, and I couldn’t accept that she’d changed until it was too late. I betrayed her trust twice. I can’t just show my face to her after all that.” Tears started forming in her eyes. “A-and even if I did, what could I possibly say to her? That I’m sorry? That I regret what I did? Sh-she’ll never believe me. Not after last time.”

Ivy sat in silence for a few seconds while Sasha choked back a sob. Then she spoke.

“You know, I made the same mistake once. Back when Anne and the Plantars had returned from Newtopia, I was planning on hanging out with Sprig, but then Mom started getting on my case about how my teacups weren’t placed perfectly and how my swans weren’t folded right. Back then, I thought she was just an annoying perfectionist. But then, when I challenged her to a round of—what was it called again?—Muay Thai, she beat me the first two rounds, and taught me a cool move on the third, which she called ‘folding the swan’. That was when I finally realized, she wasn’t getting on my case about chores, she was preparing me for the day I could accompany her on her tea trips around the world.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Sasha interrupted. “Your mom knows Muay Thai?”

“Yeah. Apparently she picked it up from her tea travels.”

“Wow, your mom is pretty neat.”

“Thanks. Anyway, point is, you realized that Anne is a strong girl capable of standing up for herself. You were just pushing her around because you wanted her to succeed, and you were blinded by your fear of losing her. But don’t worry, we’ll be there for you when you try to make up. And we’ll tell her everything you’ve done for this town.”

“Y-you mean it?”

“Of course! She deserves to know what you’ve done, after all.”

“W-wow, Ivy…thanks. Are you planning on becoming a therapist or something?”

Ivy laughed. “Nah, I think I’ll settle for helping out at the tea shop.” Her smile faded a little. “Are…you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks Ivy, I really needed that,” Sasha responded with a smile.

“Hey, no prob. Say, you wanna come help us prepare for that Welcome-Back party?” Ivy asked.

“Sure. Besides, someone’s gonna have to make sure Grime doesn’t add hornets to his cake like last time.”

“Say what now?”

“Long story.”

As she and Ivy went out to help with the party, Sasha thought about what Ivy had said. She realized that even though the chances of making up with Anne were low, it still wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. And even if it took awhile to rebuild their friendship, Sasha knew that in the end, it’d be worth it.

“Hey, Sasha, so I was thinking I should add smaller hornets this time—”

“Grime, NO hornets!”

“Aww…”

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And that’s the end! It took a while, but it was worth it. I don’t know if or when I’ll write something like this again, but we’ll just have to wait and see. For now, please leave feedback (constructive criticism is welcome) and I’ll see you all soon!

[fermataheart]

JUST FOR A SECOND | silas & milo

TIMING: recent. LOCATION: emilio’s apartment. PARTIES: @fermataheart & @wickedmilo SUMMARY: milo comes over to talk to silas about his sire. CONTENT WARNINGS: suicidal ideation, addiction.

Milo felt guilty for visiting Emilio’s apartment without asking for permission first. The slayer had every right to know who was stepping foot inside his home, but the decision had been spontaneous, born of his increasingly unstable emotional state, and desperate desire to be with somebody who understood every part of him. Metzli, and Eilidh’s unwavering support had kept him strong, and sure in the face of his sire, but even they couldn’t prepare him for the aftermath, for the damage caused by Julien’s words. Elements of his being had been dragged unwillingly to the light, analysed under the lense of somebody who had been where he was. Who, hundreds of years ago, had considered his addiction harmless… Julien’s honesty made him uncomfortable. His world had been shattered in a matter of minutes, the illusion he used to lean back on no longer convinced him, and that hurt. That was terrifying. Under any other circumstance he would appreciate the irony. The only person in his life who loved him without ever questioning his drug abuse, was now the one person that he wanted to question it. He couldn’t go to the friends who worried, he couldn’t stand the thought of looking them in the eye and admitting they may have been right. The amount of apologies he could potentially owe was as overwhelming as the realisation itself, and he wasn’t ready to face that. Not now, not after everything he had been through. 

 So he stood awkwardly, staring at the door as though it was a simple case of forcing down his fear. Every creative, and unexpected way Silas had ever caused him pain was fresh in his mind, convincing him this was a terrible, counterproductive idea. He should go to literally anybody else, but despite the pain, despite the lingering sense of betrayal, nobody made him feel safe like Silas did. He would be stupid not to acknowledge that. Nobody else could talk to him about his habits without concern, or judgement, or frustration. He didn’t have a choice, and yet he couldn’t find the courage to move. Swallowing down the anxiety that was building steadily inside his chest, he took a moment to compose himself, to walk through the many reasons he needed to have this particular conversation. Instead of knocking, he called out, his voice soft, cracking under the weight of his boyfriend’s name. “Silas?” It felt so alien in his mouth, unfamiliar in a way that was utterly heartbreaking. Another unwelcome reminder of how much distance had grown between them, how much there was still was for the both of them to resolve. “Are you home? I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here, I just- I need to see you, I don’t have anyone else…”

  —

The new front door had been fitted into its fixed frame, and for a moment, things felt normal again. Or as normal as they could when he was living in someone else’s home, still being carefully monitored by a man who had an increasing number of ‘things’ to attend to, thanks to a certain fae and her demonic boyfriend. 

 Yeah, it was pretty fucked after all.

 Still, the night was quiet—Emilio was out doing who-knows-what (he wouldn’t allow Silas to join him) and the zombie was passing the time trying to write some more lyrics. They weren’t really coming along, though, and as his gaze turned to the night sky through the front room’s window, he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Getting to his feet, assuming it was Emilio returning from whatever awful errand he’d been forced to run, Silas dropped his notebook to the couch and moved for the front door.

 The voice that met him from the opposite side made him stop dead in his tracks, breath hitching in his throat. It was a voice that he’d never thought he’d hear again. A voice that he’d wanted desperately to hear for the last week, at least… and yet it still had him frozen like a deer in headlights.

 He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what was being said. “... Milo?” Of course it was Milo, he knew it was Milo, but the question tumbled forth anyway—just an attempt to fill the silence. Closing the distance to the door, Silas unlatched the deadbolt and pulled it open slowly, his eyes immediately stinging at the sight of the vampire. Words failed him, lips parting to speak before falling shut again, his dark gaze dropping to the floor. 

 An awkward silence passed between them before Silas managed to swallow his pain and speak around the lump in his throat, stammering out a soft, “C-come in,” as he pulled the door open farther and stepped out of the way. “What… what d’you mean y’don’t have anyone else…?”

—  

“I- who else would it be?” Milo asked, caught off guard by the echo of his name. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realise the question was rhetorical, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything to hear Silas say his name again. And then the door was being opened to reveal his boyfriend, looking exactly as he remembered. As though nothing had changed, as though they were still the same two people when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, and he was struck by the sudden urge to close the distance between them. If he captured Silas’ lips with his own, he might be able to coax him to the sofa, or the bed, and they could use each other to avoid their issues. But Silas’ gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, and he began to realise the affection may not be welcomed. It was difficult to know he could no longer reach out without second guessing himself, for a while it had come so naturally. But he pressed on, trying to focus on the reason for his visit as he watched Silas, waiting for him to speak. Part of him was beginning to worry the zombie was going to ask him to leave. Until now, he hadn’t considered that a genuine possibility. He knew he would be crushed. There wouldn’t be any coming back from a rejection like that. He pointedly ignored the way his anxiety spiked, as though maybe he could will Silas to be kind, to invite him in, and offer him comfort. And then, to his relief, Silas spoke, stepping away from the door. 

 He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, his shoulders dropping with the force of it. Hurrying to cross the threshold, he was careful not to touch Silas, shrinking in on himself the moment he was inside the apartment. Hovering sheepishly, unsure how to answer the question, it was far more complicated than he cared to admit. He did technically have a lot of people he could talk to, but they were biased. He already knew what they had to say about his substance abuse because they had told him, or at the very least alluded to their opinions. Silas was different, Silas had always been different. His boyfriend was fair, he understood. He never once judged him, and most importantly, his mind wasn’t clouded by worry or fear. Not in the context of his recreational use. “You don’t look at me the way other people do.” He said finally, wishing Silas would make eye contact. “I, uh… I spoke to somebody recently.” He admitted, the thought of his sire causing his throat to close over. He swallowed the discomfort, a frown creasing his brow. “They scared me… but I can’t admit that without also admitting everyone has been right about me this entire time. And I don’t want to do that, Silas… I can’t do that, not without being sure…” Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he shifted, blinking away tears before they could form. “Look at me, Silas…” He prompted, his body was aching with longing. A desperate desire for things to be how they were. “Please?” 

—

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at Milo as he explained, as he talked about what had brought him here. It hurt too fucking much. The room felt small, like the walls were closing in. Anxiety crept up his spine and held him fast where he stood, eyes fixed on the floor between their feet. The door clicked shut quietly to his right and he thought for a moment that he should re-latch the deadbolt, but he couldn’t even muster the courage to lean to the side and reach for it. He was frozen, a deer in headlights… until Milo said his name again.

 Look at me.

 Slowly, the zombie lifted his head to look at his boyfriend—well, someone who had been that. Surely he didn’t still want that. It took everything he had not to look away again, his expression nothing short of emotionally agonized, brows knitting in the middle and lips downturned into a pout that barely held the rest of it back. 

 “I don’t…” He sucked in a needless breath, giving up and jumping his gaze toward the ceiling. “What… what’s everyone been right about, Milo?” His ringed fingers reached up to clasp at his own neck, threading around the backside of it as his eyes fell closed again. Stop being such a pansy, he chastised himself. The least you can do is look him in the eye. With a grimace, Silas dragged his chin back down, forcing himself to meet the vampire’s gaze. 

—

Milo couldn’t help but feel hurt by the pained expression Silas wore. Apparently his boyfriend found it difficult to hold his gaze. He wasn’t sure who that was a reflection on. Silas hadn’t broken up with him, but maybe a break up should have been assumed. It was becoming increasingly obvious he wasn’t welcome, that the zombie couldn’t bear to spend time with him. Maybe he had raised his standards, come to realise he could do a lot better than a freeloading vampire. Jeez, if that really was the case the conversation he was hoping to have was only going to prove him right. “No, you don’t.” He agreed, his voice quiet, barely louder than a whisper. He wanted to pretend he was unaffected but couldn’t find the strength. His frown deepening as Silas looked away again, he only felt his misery intensify. Before he could fully process the way he closed his eyes, and tilted his head towards the ceiling, he was being prompted to continue. Being asked about the subject he was attempting to both discuss, and actively avoid. 

 “I don’t know…” He groaned in frustration, wishing it was as easy as saying what was on his mind. But his thoughts were still spiralling out of control, still something he needed to sit and untangle before being able to examine. “Part of me thinks ‘fuck everybody for trying to make me doubt myself’ but part of me thinks if this thing wasn’t true then I wouldn’t even be questioning it. Not now- not ever- you know? Like, the fact that I’m even thinking about it means it’s probably right- means they’re probably right, and I don’t know what to do with that information. I don’t know what to do…” Watching as Silas lowered his head again, meeting his eye with less resistance, he felt a familiar ache in his chest. He really, really wanted a hug. How could he continue with an invisible wall stranding strong between the two of them, keeping them from being able to comfort each other? It wasn’t right. “Can we just- can we pretend nothing has happened with us? Just for a second?” It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears, but he didn’t know how else they were supposed to get through. “Do you think we can just… go back to how things used to be?”  

—

Context was crucial, and Silas had enough of it to figure out what Milo was getting at. He didn’t know what had happened to bring this about, but he could figure what the source of conflict was. Something had forced Milo to come to terms with his addictions, or at least consider them for the first time without becoming defensive. It didn’t mean that Silas agreed with it—he still didn’t really see the issue, after all. Maybe if they were still human, if the shit they did could still cause permanent damage… maybe it’d be different. But it couldn’t, so it didn’t matter. Not to him, anyway. 

 As if his opinion on the matter was the biggest elephant in the room, anyway. 

 Milo pretty quickly brought up the other issue, the one that’d kept them apart all this time. Milo had said Silas would never see him again, yet here he was. Asking for… for something Silas wasn’t sure he could provide.

 “I don’t know,” the zombie offered honestly, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “I… I’m afraid to. I want to, but I…” He shifted his weight anxiously from one leg to the other, hating the way his whole body seemed to ache. Deciding that the subject of their relationship was too much to bear, he tried to switch gears back to what had brought Milo here in the first place. 

 “Milo, whatever happened to you t’make you think you’ve been wrong about yourself this whole time… I guess the only advice I can offer is to think about what matters t’you most. Bein’ right, or bein’ the kind of person your friends want you to be, whatever that looks like. You gotta… consider where they’re comin’ from, why they feel what they feel. Does it matter to you?” Glancing down again, Silas raised a hand to his face, pressing his fingertips to his temple for a moment before running them through his hair to brush it to the side. “If it does, I guess you got some thinkin’ to do.”

—

I don’t know. Milo immediately resented Silas for being honest with him, despite the fact that he had initially asked for honesty. It wasn’t fair the person he loved felt so distant, and it certainly wasn’t fair he was still able to cause so much pain. He was forced to remind himself of why he was visiting, why he was putting himself through the agony of talking to his boyfriend. “If you wanted to, you would.” He said finally, an edge to his voice that he hadn’t intended to be there. But he knew he was right. Silas wanted to believe it was complicated, but it wasn’t. In fact, the decisions he was being asked to make were perhaps the least complicated decisions he would ever face. He loved him, or he didn’t. He wanted to be with him, or he didn’t. Setting his jaw as Silas pressed on, it was clear he had deciphered the code, stripped back his words until their meaning was exposed. He didn’t like the way that made him feel. Silas knew him so well, and maybe he didn’t deserve to. “You think I have to choose between being right about myself, or becoming the person people think I should be?” He echoed, his heart sinking at the prospect. It was difficult enough to accept the fact that he might genuinely have a reliance on substances. But to think the two options were at odds with each other made everything feel so much more impossible. “Of course it matters to me.” His voice softened, laced with a vague sense of disbelief. He pretended it didn’t matter, but surely Silas could see through his performance. It hurt when people tried to treat him like he was broken. When they told him he had a problem it made him feel like he was a problem. 

 “You guess I’ve got some thinking to do?” He stared at his boyfriend, letting out a frustrated huff of breath. “That’s really all you have?” It caused a spark of anger to ignite within him. He couldn’t understand why he was refusing to help. If he had thinking to do, it was entirely on him. Silas didn’t need to give an opinion because it was his responsibility to figure it out, his responsibility to reach his own conclusion. But how could he be expected to do that alone? He wasn’t strong enough. And yet Silas wasn’t considering that. “Silas-” He broke off, fighting against himself to let go of his emotion. He needed to stay calm, he needed to address the issue in a way that might genuinely offer him some clarity. “Can we- can we sit down?” He hadn’t intended to ask, but the question escaped him before he could swallow it. Glancing over at the couch, a flash of memory returned to him. Visceral, and real. He could still remember clinging to Silas, holding him close as though he might disappear. He could still remember Silas telling him Sylvain was more important, that he owed Sylvain more, that he was willing to give up everything they had for his vindictive dead brother. The one determined to ruin his life. Without waiting for a response, he moved to take a seat, hurrying to drop down onto the cushions as though it could ground him, keep him feeling sane. Reaching beneath his glasses, he closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips against them, finding comfort in the sudden darkness. “I saw my sire…” He admitted, his voice barely louder than a whisper. After a beat of silence passed he lowered his arms, staring down at the floor. It made sense for him to be here, no matter how vague Silas wanted to be. He needed to believe that. “Macleod found him, and I… I spoke to him.” 

—

Maybe it was as easy as Milo said, but then… he didn’t really have the full picture, did he? Silas still hadn’t told him what happened in New Orleans. What he’d put Emilio through. He wasn’t even sure if the vampire understood that this wasn’t about giving Sylvain control over his body, it wasn’t about running away—not in a literal sense. It was much more permanent than that, and the knowledge of how far he’d been willing to go, how far he had gone… it weighed heavy on his heart. He wasn’t sure he would ever bounce back from it. And if he couldn’t be the same person that Milo had fallen in love with, then how was it right for him to try and fix things? How was it fair?

 But that’s not why he was really here. Milo was upset, that much was obvious. Silas wasn’t giving him much, because he couldn’t get out of his own fucking head. He’d worked so hard to let the young man go, to convince himself that Milo was better off without him and would be happier for it some day… to see him standing here in the living room again was tearing all those walls down and exposing a very damaged, raw heart. 

 He didn’t like it.

 Standing awkwardly as Milo sat down and began to speak, Silas barely noticed the way his discomfort seemed to fade to the background—his sire. So he’d finally had the chance to talk to him, to… figure out what he wanted to do. Silas knew where Macleod stood on the subject, Milo had told him as much—but before disappearing to New Orleans, Milo had also expressed his own uncertainty in the face of the situation.

 Moving slowly over to the couch, Silas sat down beside the vampire. He faltered for a moment before reaching to take the other’s hands in his own, staring at them for a few beats before lifting his chin to meet his boyfriend’s gaze.

 “What happened, Milo?”

—

Milo froze when Silas decided to join him on the couch, unable to believe the sudden proximity. Hesitantly looking up at him, he tried to understand what had changed. Why he was no longer avoiding his eye, or keeping his distance. But before he could his boyfriend was taking his hand, skin cold, soft, and painfully familiar. Swallowing his emotion, a few beats of silence passed before he carefully began to link their fingers, worried he might startle Silas if he moved too quickly. “I-” His voice cracked, and he broke off, entirely overwhelmed. It shouldn’t feel strange, holding the hand of the person he loved, but it did. It was a comfort he thought he would never experience again, and he was only now beginning to realise just how much he had missed it. “I thought he was going to be cruel…” He admitted, whispering as he struggled to hold back his tears. “I mean, I had it worked out in my head that he wanted me to suffer… that he saw something in me he didn’t like, and that’s why he left, that’s why I had to do this on my own…” Thinking back to his conversation with Julien, he wondered vaguely whether Metzli, and Eilidh had let him go. He almost didn’t care. He had taken the time now to accept who Julien was, accept what Julien had done to him, and what he had done in return. The man’s accusations, though, were proving far more difficult to digest. He could still see him standing in the bathroom, his back against the sink as he did what he could to look bored. 

 “You know how with Andreas, and Eloy there’s- there’s so much anger, and it makes sense, and you’re allowed to be angry because they were malicious? Because they were so awful to you, and Metzli and it’s like-” Shaking his head, his glasses began to slip down his nose and he used his free hand to straighten them. “I think I wanted that… It’s just- that anger is what I prepared myself for, and it- it was nothing like that… not really. I want to be angry with him, Silas. I want to, but I can’t. He was an asshole, he was. But in a way that made me feel sorry for him, and I hate that.” Letting out a huff of breath, his grip on Silas tightened, frustration and confusion causing his body to tense. “That isn’t why I’m here though…” He continued, knowing if he stopped now he wouldn’t find the courage again. “I’m here because…” Even after Silas had guessed what he had come to discuss, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Even when he thought he was ready to, they managed to die in his throat. Something that only made him feel more concerned that Julien could be right. “He told me he was an addict… just said it, like it didn’t matter. And he was so… calm, it was like he had given up. He was being a dick for the sake of being a dick but he didn’t care what happened to him, he didn’t care about me. He didn’t care about anything, and he said… he said I was going to become him. He said things in a way nobody has ever said them before, and I’m… Silas, I’m really fucking scared that he’s right.” 

—

Mm. Milo was right, it probably would have been easier if his sire had done enough to make him furious. Anger was a simpler emotion than most, and while Silas did harbour some toward Andreas, it often felt like a ruse. So he could understand, then, how complicated this was for the vampire. Milo’s fears, once they were finally laid bare, made Silas’ heart hurt. His own fears and reservations over allowing himself to be close with the young man dissipated as compassion snatched up the reins, overwhelming him in a way he hadn’t thought possible, not anymore. Not after everything. 

 His hands let go of Milo’s, but it was only so he could wrap the other up in a tight hug and pull him close, chin resting atop the vampire’s head. Nothing he could say felt quite right, so he just took a moment to hold him, his palm running up and down Milo’s back. “I’m so sorry, Milo,” he finally muttered, speaking down into the other’s hair. “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it easy to hate ‘im… I know how that feels. But he ain’t right, you know?” He gave Milo a gentle squeeze, his voice wavering as he went on. “Only person that can decide your future is you. But… you got such a good heart, baby, that ain’t never gonna be yours.” Drug use or no drug use, Silas simply could not imagine a version of Milo that would ever be cold like that, it would go against everything that the zombie knew about him. Everything that had, ultimately, drawn them together.

—

Milo faltered when Silas pulled away from him, unable to stop hurt from clouding his expression. But as quickly as he was able to process the zombie letting go of his hand, he was being pulled forward into an embrace. One that was gentle, and filled with a level of affection that he hadn’t prepared himself for. A sob escaping him, he hesitated briefly before returning the hug, unable to resist its safety, and metaphorical warmth. His ear pressed up against Silas’ chest, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine a heartbeat. But the thought of a pulse didn’t offer him the comfort he was looking for. It wasn’t normal now for him to hug somebody and listen to their heart. Instead, he realised, he enjoyed the silence, the lack of movement was something that undeniably made Silas who he was. The man he had fallen in love with was dead, and that was okay because so was he. Humanity no longer felt like something to miss, or aspire to. “You don’t have anything t’be sorry for…” He murmured, his voice muffled by his position. It wasn’t necessarily true, but in the context of his current crisis he couldn’t bring himself to be pedantic. Gripping the material of Silas’ shirt, he focused on the way it felt beneath his fingertips.

 “But what if he is?” The darkness made it easier to say what he wanted to say, and he leaned into it, grateful for the bravery it lended him. “That’s it though. I have to decide… I think I have to make that decision-” He felt his heart clench, a tightness in his chest as Silas accidentally confirmed his greatest fear. He had been given a glimpse into his future, and he needed to choose which path he wanted to take. Where he was going to be in a few hundred years. “You didn’t hear what he said, Silas… it made sense.” Taking a deep, uneven breath, he allowed the hand tracing the length of his spine to stifle his tears. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, as much as hearing the use of the pet name filled him with longing, he knew a good heart wasn’t enough to save him. It wasn’t about being good. “I don’t- I don’t think my heart matters. You don’t get it- he spent his whole life using, he built up a tolerance. He said nothing touches him anymore, like, he’s always desperate for a hit- he’d do anything just to get high… even put people like me at risk of dying. He didn’t turn me because he wanted to. He killed me by mistake, and turning me was easier than disposing of my body. He was just so- so sad, Silas. He was a mess.”

—  

“Guess I never really thought about it like that,” Silas admitted softly, considering the details of the situation. With overdosing having become a non-issue (at least where it concerned mundane drugs) it stood to reason that someone who partook too often and too greedily would eventually feel nothing at all. It sounded like hell, chasing something like that that could never exist again.

 With this new context, Milo’s fears suddenly made a lot more sense.

 “That is sad, you’re right.” He continued to rub the other’s back soothingly, gathering his thoughts for a few moments before continuing. “… look. That sounds like a hard life he’s got. N’ the one thing I don’t ever want for you is for your life t’be hard. So if that means you gotta quit, then quit.” Pulling back to look down at Milo, Silas offered him a weary smile. “If you quit, I’ll quit. You don’t gotta go it alone… if you don’t want to.”

 Something had changed. The quiet desperation for escape seemed to have grown still, to the point that Silas temporarily forgot it was there. The person he loved needed support, needed him, maybe… and just like he’d sworn to himself to stick it out and make sure Emilio was going to be okay, he swore he’d do the same for Milo. Maybe that would be enough, maybe his life could just be one promise after the other to take care of people, to be there for them, and maybe that would always be enough. He’d never looked at it from that perspective, but sitting here with his boyfriend crying in his arms, he thought maybe it’d been his answer all along. If he couldn’t silence the sadness, maybe he just needed to focus on feeding the happiness with acts of service. Maybe that was his love language, after all. 

—

Milo hummed quietly, telling Silas he hadn’t thought about it either, not until his sire had shared his own experience. When you lived each day without considering your future, without considering how your daily routine might evolve, the reality was easy enough to avoid. But now, it was staring him in the face, mocking him for ever thinking he could maintain his daily drug abuse. It was a childish fantasy he had intentionally never questioned. Allowing Silas to pull back, glancing up at him through the tears that were marking his glasses, he did nothing to hide his fear. There was no point, Silas had seen him in far more vulnerable states. “I don’t- it isn’t that easy.” How could he put into words the way his body ached at the prospect of getting clean? The way his mind screamed out in horror, and tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary? He opened his mouth again, but struggled to form a coherent sentence. And then his boyfriend’s statement rendered him speechless for an entirely different reason. A new reason… a welcome one. Though he could never ask Silas to give up his recreational use, the sentiment was enough to give him hope. Hope he still cared, hope they were still together, hope there was something in the ruins of their relationship left for them both to salvage, and nurture. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that… it wouldn’t be fair.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He reached out, confident that the zombie wasn’t going to withdraw from his touch, and cupped his face with one hand. Running his thumb along the line of his cheekbone, he took the opportunity to marvel at his beauty. To appreciate him for the first time in too long. 

 “Silas… I don’t think I can.” Was that not his real reason for visiting Emilio’s apartment? To admit his deepest fear, to be honest for the first time in his life? It felt as though layer after layer of what made him Milo was being stripped away, leaving behind who he was underneath; weak, reliant, and ultimately broken. “I always told myself I could stop if I wanted to because I needed to believe it…” He admitted, the realisation dawning as him as he spoke. He hadn’t just been lying to the people who loved him, he had been lying to himself. “The thought of doing it- knowing I might actually have to do it- that scares me more than anything has ever scared me. And, I don’t know… I think about getting clean, and it feels too hard, it feels like I shouldn’t even try.” Swallowing another sob before it could creep into his throat, he lowered his hand, removing his glasses so that the tears on his lenses were no longer hindering his vision. With his sharp edges blurred, Silas looked even more ethereal. As though he had been painted by an artist who saw the world as something arguably more romantic than it was. “No matter what happens, I have to tell people they were right. I have to humiliate myself by taking everything back, and give up any kind of pride I ever had… how am I supposed to do that?” He begged for an answer, for a spontaneous solution to his problem. “How am I supposed to look people in the eye, and tell them I have a problem? I feel so stupid.” He blinked away fresh tears, letting them run down his face without halting their progress this time. Taking a deep breath, he ignored his lack of composure, forcing himself to say what he had come to say, letting the crushing weight of the words wash over him. It pressed in on him from every side, stealing the air from his lungs. Once he said them out loud there really was no going back. “I need help. I think I need help.” 

—

Wasn’t fair? Hell, it was the least Silas could do, after everything. He leaned into the vampire’s touch, finally able to maintain that eye contact without having guilt forcing his gaze off to one side. His answer to the argument, at least for now, was just a small shake of his head and a gentle smile that seemed to suggest the other opinions that would simply be tabled, for the time being.

 Letting Milo speak uninterrupted was important. Letting him get all his thoughts out, all the things he’d been burying for so many years… to interject would risk stopping the flow, and Silas knew how hard it could be to own up to your mistakes. Hell, he still really hadn’t faced his own—but that was neither here nor there. The zombie sat quietly, patiently, determined to be a positive and reassuring presence for Milo. He would never call it a problem, never say it was something that Milo needed to fix… that would make him the same as the rest of them, on top of making him a hypocrite. No, he was coming at it from the other side, the side that understood and partook and could recognize how difficult it was for Milo to make this decision. 

 I need help.

 “You got help,” Silas responded softly. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his wrist and lifted it to Milo’s face to dab at the tears, speaking as he did so. “And you don’t gotta humiliate yourself, neither. Listen… not one person that’s worth a damn second of your time is gonna look at you now and judge you for it, not seein’ what you’re goin’ through and understandin’ what you want your future to look like. Anyone who’s got their head on straight is gonna be proud of you. Je suis fier de toi, mon amour—so proud. You ain’t stupid, and you still got a lotta reasons to hang on to that pride… you’re a good person. Ain’t enough good people in this world, baby. Hold on to that.” He paused, the ache of how touch-starved he had become since leaving Maine overwhelming him all at once and prompting him to plant a kiss to Milo’s forehead. “And hey,” he continued after a beat, still holding the young man close, still speaking against his skin like his words were for Milo and Milo alone, “I’ll be right there with you, okay? Gettin’ high don’t matter to me more than you do. We can hold each other accountable n’ take it on as a team, yeah? You’re gonna do great. I got all the faith in the world that you’re gonna do great. I… I love you.”

—  

You got help. Milo stayed silent, allowing the words to fully process, allowing himself to appreciate the meaning behind them. Though everything Silas had done following his return to White Crest convinced him he no longer wanted a relationship, his actions now were telling him otherwise and it was becoming easier to believe with each moment that passed. The zombie had been pushing him away, but maybe that was an instinct. Maybe he meant it when he said it was to protect him, no matter how screwed up that logic might be. This conversation was only proving how much he needed Silas in his life, how much he mattered. How much he cared for Silas, and how much Silas cared for him right back. He no longer knew how to live his life without him, and that would be comforting if it didn’t feel so uncertain. “You don’t mean that.” He breathed, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He was scared to accept the affection, knowing it could be taken back at any given moment. “You can’t… I know you don’t want me here, you don’t have to pretend. I just…” Breaking off, distracted from his attempt to protect himself, he let his eyes fall shut, let Silas carefully brush away his tears. He was so soft, so gentle. It broke his heart knowing how much pain he was in. People like Silas didn’t deserve to be in pain. As much as he wanted to hold onto his anger, he couldn’t. “It feels humiliating.” He stayed quiet, and still, as though if he moved he might shatter what was happening between them. This sense of intimacy felt delicate. “They’re only going to be proud if I can do it, Silas…” The statement unlocked another fear, one that he hadn’t yet considered. Yes, people would feel validated if he attempted to quit his habits. Some people might be smug or judgemental, but even the people who were proud, who deeply, and truly cared about his wellbeing, would be disappointed if he failed them. If he promised them something he just wasn’t able to deliver. 

 Opening his eyes in surprise as his boyfriend placed a kiss against his forehead, he relished the feeling of his lips against his skin. “You’re a good person too… I don’t know why you’re so determined not to see that.” He stopped himself before he could continue, before he could reopen the wounds they had temporarily sealed, and drag their trauma back to the surface. He needed to be grateful for what he was being given, he couldn’t afford to ask for anything more. “I-” He broke off, listening to Silas declare just how much he meant. More than the myriad of drugs they had shared together, more than the frustration of being judged, more than the escape they were both granted by getting high. Silas had no reason to pledge sobriety, but he was doing exactly that. And it made him so happy it actually hurt. There was an ache in his chest, one that caused fresh tears to distort his vision. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough, and he wasn’t sure Silas walking the same path beside him was going to make it any easier. But knowing he had his support, that he was there, that he cared enough to make such an incredible sacrifice… suddenly it didn’t feel so awful to try. Withdrawing from the embrace, hoping to hold Silas’ gaze, look him in the eye and convey everything he couldn’t put into words, he was caught off guard by the statement. As innocent as it should seem, it no longer felt sweet, and casual. It was a reminder of how much they had been through, and maybe even how far there was for them to go. “I love you too… so much more than you realise.” It was a risk, he knew it was a risk. Given their last real conversation, things could change in an instant, go back to the way they were. Broken, fractured, and painful. But he couldn’t stop himself from taking the chance. He reached up to cup Silas’ face, pulling him into a desperate kiss. He wasn’t prepared for him to break away, all he could do was hope that he wouldn’t. 

—

I know you don’t want me here, you don’t have to pretend. Silas wouldn’t even entertain the idea of that being true by acknowledging it beyond a small shake of his head and a saddened expression—Milo was too selfless, trying to give him an out like that. He didn’t deserve it, after all. 

 They’re only going to be proud if I can do it. “No, Milo. We’re gonna be proud that you’re tryin’. Long as you pick yourself back up again, we’re gonna be proud.” 

 Looking down at Milo as he pulled back, seeing the tears in his eyes, Silas’ stomach dropped. He was going through so much pain, and Silas had only made it worse with all his baggage. It was less than what the young vampire deserved, but it was all that Silas had to offer. He’d made mistakes, he’d let himself be coerced into situations he should have been smart enough to avoid, let himself get talked into a spiral that ended at the side of a highway in another state… all while hurting the man in front of him so fucking badly that it made him sick. But he could do better. He knew he could do better. And he needed to make sure that Milo knew that, too. So, when his boyfriend pulled him into a kiss, the zombie didn’t resist it. Instead he wrapped his arms around him, holding on to him like he might float away if Silas let go. He wouldn’t dare be the first one to pull back, but when Milo finally did, presumably to speak, Silas jumped in ahead to get his thoughts out before he lost the courage to utter them aloud.

 “I’m so sorry, Milo. For everythin’. I was… in a real bad place. Too tired and too afraid to feel like I could go on. I just… I wanted to die. After all the things that went wrong in New Orleans, I just wanted to escape from it. Sylvain offered me that escape, he… he said he’d take over and do it for me. Kill me. He almost did. We was only feet from real death, and I ain’t never been so scared in my life. But I still wanted it, even after… after Emilio stuffed me in his car to drive us home. I still…” His gaze became a little distant—he knew that Milo was hesitant to bring any of this up, but they had to talk about it. He hadn’t been himself, the last time. They had to talk about it now, while he could actually be honest. “I fought with him about it. I was real convinced for weeks that the moment I got the chance, I’d be outta here to go finish the job. But…” He let his gaze focus on Milo again, brows knitted. “Well, obviously that never happened. I’m just—I’m tellin’ you this so you can know where I was comin’ from. Why I was bein’... that way. And I’m so sorry. I’m—I’m doin’ a lot better, now. I don’t want… I… I got things to stick around for. I got you. I got Emilio, I got Ari n’ Cass n’ all kinds of folks that now, now I see how stupid I was to wanna leave behind. So… yeah. I wanna be here for you. I wanna do whatever I can to make this up t’you, and I wanna be the one to help pick you back up when you fall down. Whatever that looks like, whatever gettin’ clean is gonna look like for the both of us… I wanna be with you. More than anythin’, I wanna be with you.”

—

Milo wasn’t sure he believed Silas. What if he didn’t pick himself back up again? What if he couldn’t? What if he changed his mind and everything returned to how it was? Would they still be proud of him? Or would the judgement increase? Would the tense conversations, and subtle accusations get worse in the wake of his failure? “I don’t know…” He murmured, but didn’t try to argue. He had a long way to go before he even needed to consider these new questions. It was a daunting enough prospect without the near future hanging over his head. Apparently Silas was all too willing to offer him a distraction from his thoughts. He felt a jolt of surprise when he realised the zombie was kissing him back, but it didn’t take him long for him to melt into his embrace. He missed the feeling of being held, he missed the feeling of Silas’ lips, his missed the feeling of his hair as his fingers got tangled in it. There wasn’t anything he didn’t miss. Humming quietly, he eventually pulled back, too lost in the moment to feel anything other than contentedness. Brushing his hair away from his face, he utilised how close they were, making the most of being able to touch him without any kind of inhibition. He was ready to tell Silas how much he had missed him, but Silas cut him off before he could. The glow that seemed to be surrounding them both disappeared the moment he was able to register his words. He was talking about that night. The one with Emilio. The one that had triggered a devastating chain of events. Part of him was undeniably curious. Emilio hadn’t told him anything, but he had almost come to terms with that. Part of him genuinely didn’t want to know, wanted to put it behind them, and forget it had ever happened. 

 He shook his head, but Silas was already speaking, a weight in his voice that hadn’t previously been present. He realised he owed it to him to listen, to let him tell his story. His grip on Silas tightening as he was forced to accept just how close to losing him he had come, he swallowed a fresh bout of tears. “I never want you to be scared.” He breathed, continuing to smooth down his hair, brushing his fingertips against the line of his jaw. Anything to show him he was there, anything to help keep him grounded. He was too tired to react to the mention of Sylvain, too tired to nurture the grudge he was holding, so he focused on the positive emotions, the love, and protectiveness, the shared sense of affection connecting them in ways it was always supposed to. “I was such a dick to Emilio… shit.” He made a mental note to apologise, to tell the slayer he hadn’t realised just how much he had been forced to endure. Maybe it hadn’t been fair to take things out on him, but something told him he would understand regardless. “I don’t need you to tell me this- Silas, you really don’t need to tell me this.” He hurried to assure his boyfriend. “It’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay. You’re here, and I’m here, and it’s okay… Listen to me.” Hearing Silas tell him he had reasons to stay made his heart swell in a way that was almost unfamiliar. His life felt as though it had been so difficult, as of late. This glimmer of hope was everything he needed, it made him feel stronger than he had in weeks. “We have each other.” He murmured, hitting his chest with a watery laugh. “It was stupid, it was so stupid.” He didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t help himself. For the first time it felt as though it might be over. They could learn, and grow, and heal together. “You don’t owe me anything- I just want you to be here… with me.” A smile tugging at his lips, hesitant, but rapidly growing in strength, the validation was needed. He didn’t realise how badly he had been craving it until Silas began to tell him how much he still valued their relationship. Climbing into his lap, he pulled him into another kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t vocalise into the action. Every fear, every ounce of lust, the love, the pain, and suffering… the beautiful feeling of beginning to reconnect. And this time he didn’t pull away, because he knew Silas wasn’t going to.  

[mymovingfingerwrites]

courage, dear heart

When we think of Lucy, we think of her golden hair and her cheerful smile, we think of a girl walking through a wardrobe and accepting a new world without question. We think of Queen Lucy, blessed with the power to heal, the only girl on a ship full of boys searching for a hint of whence they came. We think of her at the end of the world, kind and lovely and sorrowful as a mouse rows away, and in the world beyond the end of the world, her eyes lit up with delight. Resolute Lucy, bold Lucy, perched like a bird on the back of a lion.

When we think of Narnia, we think of Lucy. How could we not? Was it not Lucy who opened a wardrobe door and found winter, was it not Lucy who refused to be minimized, was it not Lucy who infused the land with good cheer for years after her coronation, was it not Lucy who first cocked her head and said that the land was speaking to them and they must listen?

We think about Lucy, bright Lucy, glittering Lucy, and we know instinctively that Lucy was always the heroine of her own story. What we don’t consider is that in her darkest moments—for Lucy, like us all, was not always bright, no matter how the legends insisted otherwise—she felt at times captive by the winds of fate stirring her hair. Perhaps we are–though we don’t like to admit it—some of the many people in both worlds who looked at Lucy and resented her for having the audacity (the privilege) to fill the pages of her book with her own words without considering how heavy her pen may be.

(Was it really her book, though? Lucy did not deny she wrote her own narrative. She was Lucy the Valiant; she spoke the language of High Narnia, she heard when Aslan called, she commanded the long-dormant trees into existence once more. Lucy was familiar with the power of words. What she objected to was the idea that her life was her very own, that her canvas was blank except for marks of her own making. Dear Lucy, pulled uncomplainingly into heroics, a simple game of exploration leading to death and betrayal and heartbreak (and majesty, and light, and animals that could talk). No; this was not her book but if she had the (mis)fortune to open it she certainly would inscribe her legacy on it herself).

To our credit, we sense what Lucy had always known: she felt as though her role was inevitable. (In boys, we call that responsibility, or heroism). Perhaps that is what we resented. When you are a young girl with golden hair and blue eyes and the lightest smattering of freckles, when you are the baby of the family and coddled and loved dearly, when you are born with an infinite well of self-possession and three protective older siblings, when you believe in your own worth–stepping into the pages of your story and titling it as your own looks like a foregone conclusion from afar.

(Her sister, Susan, struggled with this for many years. Though she was the pretty one, or at least that was what her mother told her, Susan eyed Lucy’s waterfall of blonde hair with envy. Though she was meant to be gentle, Susan watched how animals flocked to her sister first, how even the most timid of creatures lined up to whisper their secrets into Lucy’s ears. This would take Susan a considerable amount of time to overcome, but let us not blame her too harshly. Being a girl is difficult enough; being the other girl in the story is harder still).

But what we do not see, unless we look very closely, is that nothing felt foregone for Lucy. What looks easy from afar was not from within. Lucy chose herself, over and over; she chose to follow the path Aslan lay out for her, and she chose to do so with good humor and kindness as armour against the inherent cruelty of the world, even the magic one.

Of all her siblings, Peter understood this best, though they never discussed it in so many words. Perhaps that is why Peter always trusted Lucy, or at least apologized to her without resentment when she was proven right. The bookends of the family, they were as temperamentally different as any other pair of siblings. Peter sometimes felt blinded by Lucy's incandescent optimism; Lucy at times was weighed by proximity to Peter's practicality.

But both of them understood duty, more so than Edmund, led so easily astray by pleasure, and Susan, who believed (at times to her credit) that the world owed her the same that she owed it. Neither Lucy nor Peter strayed from their tasks, not even when Lucy picked her cold and lonely way down to the shadow of a godly voice, nor when Peter first felt the undeniable weight of his gleaming sword marred by enemy blood. They chose, and they chose again, even when those choices did not feel like choices but inevitabilities.

For when one understands duty, taking one's place as hero is not self-indulgent. It is not privilege; it is a prerogative, and it is difficult. But where Peter found his duty in protection and caregiving, in oversight and the hard labor of daily majesty, Lucy found hers in vision and clarity and momentum. When Susan hesitated over the unknown and Edmund lay sniffling quietly when he thought nobody could hear, Lucy knew that her relentless confidence was as necessary as Peter's guidance.

(This was a burden, too. Who was positive for Lucy? Her siblings tried to be, of course; they loved each other dearly, more so in the following years. But this sense of need never left Lucy, this fear that if she did not smile that nobody else would ever smile again).

Cheerfulness and friendliness can be their own prisons. When you believe in yourself, others are relieved; they need not take on the responsibility of believing in you too. Lucy never allowed herself to stray (save from moments alone in a large, soft bed, save from a magic book that in its pages contained temptation, save from tears that splashed hotly in the cool Narnia wind) all the more rigidly because everyone expected that she never would.

(It takes strength to choose optimism; it takes willpower to respond to situations with cheerfulness. Lucy was valiant even at seven years old, remember. She knew that raising her head high was an act of defiance, she knew believing in her own experience was brave, she knew that daring to rescue a friend from the clutches of an unknown evil was perhaps foolhardy but nevertheless necessary. She may not wield a sword but do not mistake her empathy for weakness).

Beauty and softness can be their own prisons, too. Youth and innocence and loveliness can make you more—it can mark you as worthy to speak to a god-turned-lion, your friendship as worth the threat of eternal damnation—but it invariably means that more is all you are allowed to be. There were days when Lucy fled back to her castle, her nose red and her eyes stinging, her hair twisted into disarray, and wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath a heap of blankets and throw pillows at the door just to prove that she too could be cruel, she too could be wanting. It is no easier to smile when tasked to in Narnia than it is anywhere else.

Sometimes Lucy resented her role as the youngest, the softest, the angel (or was she meant to be the prophet?). She saw Susan notching an arrow to her bow, watched Peter and Edmund joust in the courtyard, and looked down at her glittering bottle of cordial and longed to smash it against the door and take up war instead of peace.

Father Christmas gave her that vial, after all, a children’s story speaking to a child. Her power was limited, finite. Lucy began to use it sparingly, though she would have liked to heal every small hurt that befell a member of her kingdom. Part of her always felt a frisson of fear at the thought that she may one day no longer have the power to heal. Part of her felt anger that even Father Christmas did not think her capable. None of her siblings had gifts of borrowed power.

(Edmund did not get a gift at all, but he was, surprisingly, placid about this slight. He still remembered the enchanting taste of Turkish delight, even years after it last melted on his tongue. He knew that even now he would betray his family for another taste of that wickedness, and that knowledge made him humble. His gift was that he would never be tempted again, and for that, he would trade all the gold in the world).

Let us talk about what it must have cost Lucy, more than her siblings, to return to a world of mundane happenstance. Let us think about her, forced to be seven years old, forced to plait her hair and be seen and not heard and befriend children scarred from years of war. These playmates did not want to be coaxed into the brilliant world of Lucy’s imagination. They did not want to hear of Aslan, they did not want to pretend to be anything they were not. They had survived days or months or years away from their parents, but not in the warm embrace of a magic land; they had been torn from their families by trains and cars leaving in the dead of night, they had been sent to farms where food stretched thin, to towns that covered their windows with black paint and slept six to a bed, heel to head. Magic to them was their father, home from the war, with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes but was nevertheless warm. It was their older siblings, reunited and once again casual monarchs of the family dynamic. It was their mothers chiding them to eat, their friends once again within easy access, the serenity of the night broken only by lorries and not sirens.

Lucy had experienced hardship before, of course. Everything has a balance, after all. When you feel joy deeply, sorrow cuts you to your very core. When you are easily delighted, you understand how ephemeral delight can be. Lucy carried joy with her, of course: the wild exhilaration of Bacchus and his nymphs, how right it felt when her and her siblings rushed out to the parapet to see a brilliant golden sun nestle into the cool embrace of the Narnia forest, the softness of Reepicheep's fur tinged with drops from the sea at the end of the world, how Aslan looked at her and she felt seen. Lucy never shied away from emotion. Lucy was valiant in this too.

But she never forgot the lesson of dear old Tumnus. In Narnia, he was a constant presence in her dining hall. But she never forgot that the cost of her entrance into this glittering world was an innocent creature frozen for daring to take her home for tea. She never forgot that her siblings doubted her, that her youngest brother was led astray by sparkle and glitter. She remembered the silent despair of Caspian searching for his family, Eustace wondering which poor soul he devoured in the guise of a dragon defeating another. To the end of her days, she thought of the quiet dignity and terrible sadness of Lord Rhoop gazing upon the still bodies of his very closest companions, choosing to condemn himself to an endless sleep to be by their side on only the faintest suggestion of hope. Because Lucy was Lucy, she took those feelings into her own and cared for them as she cared for their benefactors.

But in a way, Lucy had not yet experienced loneliness and fear, not like her siblings had, not like these war-torn children. The closest she had gotten were those first few days in the professor’s house where none believed her, or when she walked alone to Aslan in the middle of the night wishing desperately someone would follow. For most of her time in Narnia, however, Lucy was easily, automatically accepted, her majesty unquestioned. In Narnia, she was unique: lovely Lucy, Queen Lucy, friend of centaurs and fauns and nymphs, immortalized in ballads, welcome in badger dens and banquet halls alike. Lucy was Aslan’s favorite, of course–didn’t he speak mostly to her, didn’t he cuddle her in his great and terrible paws? Queen of peace and harbinger of joy.

When she twisted back into an unfamiliar body she expected this world to accept her, too. Yet Lucy was not celebrated in this world; at least not automatically. Susan took one look at her circumstances and tossed her head and vowed to be queen in this life too. Edmund chewed his lip and sighed a little to Lucy but bent his head to his studies, just in case Aslan was wrong and he would be forced to rely on the battles to be won in schoolhouses and universities. Peter raged, in his own way, at the loss of his kingdom, unable to cope with his duty and his purpose and his raison d'être so brutally torn from him.

Lucy tried to talk to the trees, but they ignored her, their bark cool to the touch. She tried to dance in the meadows, but the grass was sharp and covered her legs with rashes. She tried to befriend the dogs at her local shelter but they snapped at her suspiciously. She tried to talk to her peers and hear their stories and stand up for them like she stood up for her subjects but they eyed her with mistrust and laughed at the boundless optimism she tried desperately to embody. This generation of children was not prone to easy positivity, remember. Those in Narnia had been so desperate for help after their long years of winter. Humans, she found, were surprisingly not.

Lucy had never been ignored before. She had never been disliked openly, she had never struggled to make friends. She did not know how to handle girls eyeing her with jealousy or derision, how to process boys that pulled her hair not to flirt but to hurt. Her gentle heart and loving manner had always won her praise and acclaim, but in those brittle years after the war, she was playing a game where she did not know the rules.

She was not able to admit until years later that perhaps this loneliness was good for her. Heroines need strife to grow, even in all the old stories. Lucy could have turned her back on who she was in Narnia; she could have tempered the blaze of her spirit, fell obediently into the ranks of conformity. She could have stemmed the flow of her hope and turned instead to sheer practicality. Was that not what her siblings were doing?

(No, dear Lucy, stubborn to the very end. That was not what they were doing and you should have given them the benefit of the doubt).

In some sort of twist of fate, Lucy did most of her growing in this world, off the pages of the book, trying to decide what was important to her in a world where the rules were more (less) rigid, the values were more (less) prescribed. This was where she became truly valiant, in the mundane manner as well as the majestic. In this world she learned how to listen: quietly and patiently. Here the silent trees aided her, providing a calm and soothing canvas on which a friend could shyly begin to paint her troubles. She learned that being bold and brash could sometimes be selfish instead of brave.

Lucy remembered what it felt like to be seven and ignored. She remembered encountering a fawn risking death for her company, even though she was not yet a decade on this earth. She remembered her own siblings’ gentle condescension. She knew what it felt like to be dismissed. Sometimes you do not want somebody to fight for you. Sometimes you want somebody to help you as you learn how to fight for yourself.

In this world, Lucy learned what it meant to be valiant without pride. She learned how much bravery it takes to be heroine of a story with many other heroines and heroes and warriors and soldiers, that being one of many provides strength. (It reminds her of those old sunny days, playing chess in the courtyard, all her siblings casually, loosely together). In this world, when she lifted her head and smiled warmly, when she woke in the morning and greeted the sun, she did so with optimism she crafted herself, with positivity she forged out of the steel of her spine. She learned you did not have to be in the forefront of a story to blaze in it, that sometimes people did not want love and laughter but truth and honesty and justice. She met her peers’ eyes and they lifted their chins and she made them feel fierce, not protected.

When Lucy thought, years later, of the vial Father Christmas gave her, she realized he was giving her an instrument of her own power. Her ability—her great burden—was that she could not save everyone but she could save many. She had to choose. Lucy was not alone in this; a sword gives one the ability to take a life—but to trade a death for many lives. A bow allows one to even the stakes while remaining aloof, to assign death to others from a great distance. No gift at all forces one to look inside themselves and find the strength that was always there. Magic to heal, like all of these gifts, like all gifts, was meaningless unless one wielded it.

Lucy could have been afraid of indecision; she could have kept her vial locked away or pretended it had run out. She could have used it all within years, saving this generation of her subjects only to damn the next. The choice was hard, sometimes. Sometimes she left the vial behind and had to grasp the hand of a dying soldier and know in her heart that she could have saved him had she only decided to bring it. Sometimes, particularly toward the end, she had it in her pocket but knew she could not use it, that she had to be brave for those ahead as well as those now. These choices were not easy. These choices were her own. Peter, burdened with majesty, had to make choices about who to damn to combat, what was worth fighting for—but he never had to choose who to save. Susan, gentle, had to weigh the many competing demands of the land and decide which to prioritize, strategize how to best achieve her goals, knowing the weight of her kingdom was on her back—but she knew there was always a second choice, always a way to optimize a situation. Edmund, even and fair, had to devise a system of just rule, had to know when to stick to it and when to revise it, even when a friend had to be punished, even when it hurt to be the judge—but he did not have to enforce these laws, only set them.

Warrior, strategist, arbiter, healer: all four Pevensie siblings shouldered their own burdens and supported each other in the heavy task of ruling over many. When three of them returned (when six of them returned) to see their land destroyed, to see a new land created, they remembered those choices and they vowed to uphold them. Lucy had no vial in the kingdom of heaven but that had never been what gave her power. Even in the golden light at the end of the world there were jealousies and anger and injustice and strife. Even in the endless summer of forever there was the chance to be brave.

(Susan, on Earth, mourned her baby sister more than anyone else. Peter had death in the shadows of his eyes since he took a life at thirteen years old and was praised for it. Edmund too seemed to know that he was living on borrowed time. But Lucy, dear Lucy, did not deserve to be struck down so young. Susan had watched her grow into the set of her shoulders and ignite the light in her smile not once but twice. She watched Lucy forge a mortal crown out of sheer determination and optimism and she felt something like awe. She wanted her sister to wear it; she wanted her sister to join her in this brave new world, where women were beginning to display the beauty of their resilience and their wild and clever strength. She wanted to apologize, to admit she too remembered Narnia, that she had not understood the type of strength Lucy drew about her like a warm shawl.

Susan did not know for many years where that fateful train journey took her siblings. She deliberately did not consider Narnia, for why would a land full of kindness and light steal her family senselessly, randomly? (She did not know of their mission, of magic rings, of beasts lurking in the darkness. How could she, when they deliberately did not include her?)

She chose to believe that Lucy and Peter and Edmund were in a land of eternal stillness. Susan remembered those burdens, too, even if the details of Narnia were on some days blurry. It seemed more sad, somehow, to think of her siblings once again wearing their crowns on stone thrones, as if their time on Earth meant nothing.

When she opened her eyes and saw Lucy again, young and royal, she felt at first a deep pang of regret before the relief flooded in).

For Lucy, going to the world after the world of Narnia was not frightening but exhilarating, not limiting but empowering. It did not take long for her to forget what she left behind on her mortal world; they had teased Susan, once, for shutting out remembrances of talking animals and magic dancing along the stone paths. If Lucy remembered that, she might have felt shame, now that the quiet majesty of a row of silent English oaks faded into blurs, that the chatter of her peers became as dim and incomprehensible as squirrels.

But Lucy was never one to look back; she was eager to flip ahead to the new pages in her story, here in a world where the pages had no ending. There were new friends to meet and a kingdom to build and cheers to receive and challenges to fight. Susan would realize this too, one day, joining her siblings in this world beyond the world. Lucy was suited for this, as if she were chosen for this, as if she chose this over everything else she could have chosen.

She wrote her own story, yes, but we should remember that does not mean that all of her words were her own.

[simpingovernonexistentmen]

Family Meeting Pt 1

Plot: Katsuki feels it’s time to meet families. Little does he know his omega isn’t so keen on the idea.

Genre: A/B/O, Omegaverse, Fluff, BNHA, Alpha Bakugo, Fem Omega Reader

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and, you were happily surrounded by your Alpha's scent. Sitting on the couch with Katsuki watching a documentary on almight's pasts battles. You've been dating Katsuki for half a year now. Finding yourself falling for him more and, more everyday. Everything was perfect. You snuggled closer to him, laying your head against his chest letting out a sigh of contentment. Katsuki chest rumbled in response to his omega's happiness, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you as close to him as possible, leaving a small gentle kiss on the top of your head. Yes everything was perfect.

"I think it's time we've met parents." He said breaking the silence.

You felt yourself freeze. Yes everything was perfect until right at this moment. Can we rewind back to 10 seconds ago and, just live in that time space for all eternity that would be great. You tilted your head up to gaze at his ruby eyes.

"Parents?" You squeaked out.

He frowned at your timid reply. Was it even a question? You've both have been with each other long enough to be considered serious. His mother had been nagging at him to bring you over to introduce you as his new partner to the family. He felt he had given it enough time to do this so, why did his omega seem so reluctant.

"What's wrong?" He asked giving you a long stare. You felt as if he was trying to piece a puzzle together with your soul.

"You don't think it's too soon?" You smiled up nervously, you already knew your scent starting to change into a slight bitter scent and, there was nothing you could do to stop it.

His stare hardened looking at you suspiciously. "No I don't, i think we've been together long enough to meet each other's families."

You sighed placing you face into the crook of his neck, refusing to stare at his soul searching eyes any longer. "Can we delay meeting my family for a bit?" You stated with a small voice. You felt him stiffen from under you.

"Y/N does your family not know about us?"

Fuck the one question you wanted to avoid entirely. The air around you started to contort into bitter burnt smell, nothing like his comforting firewood scent. This isn't how you wanted this conversation to play out. You didn't have a bad relationship with your family, no that was far from truth in fact it was the opposite. They loved you too much. Over protective was an understatement, every time you got into a relationship your family would find some way to drive them off. The same response would be given every time if they were really meant for you this wouldn't drive them away. No shame at all! You family consisted of two brothers and, of course both of your parents. Your mother is an omega like you while, all the males in your family were alphas.

Usually omegas were categorized in two slots a nuisance or, a blessing. The way society's view things is ridiculous but, that didn't mean you were ungrateful for your fortunate circumstance. You loved you family and they loved you but, being an omega, an only girl and, the youngest of every one did not help at all!!!

"Are you ashamed of me omega?" The anger in your alpha's tone brought you out of your thoughts. You quickly straddled his hips grabbing his face in your hands.

"Never" You stated with finality. Your eyes soften while, staring at his ruby eyes. You let out a comforting scent cooing at your alpha. "I would never be ashamed of you, it's just my family is a little much." You sighed looking down at him, "I just don’t want them to ruin what we have."

His chest rumbled at your answer, he leaned against you rubbing his face against your sweat gland. Katsuki wrapped his arms around your waist locking you in place. You began to run your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair, he hummed in response. He placed soft butterfly kisses against your neck.

"There is nothing they can do to ruin anything, our relationship isn’t so fragile to be easily broken"

Your heart swelled with joy at his words. You purred happily pulling back to kiss his lips. You smiled  brightly at him. "Ok let's meet the family then."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few days have past and, you were FREAKING OUT! That same day you called your family with your alpha present letting them know about your relationship with katsuki. You of course played it safe, calling your mother over everyone else. You did not need a interrogation over a phone call with your alpha beside you. Your mother being an omega herself understood your point of view. That didn't mean she agreed with your method. After arguing for a bit with some pleading she conceded deciding it was best to let them know the day before your alpha and, you arrived. Rather than to blindside them completely.

Now here you were sitting in the passenger side of Katsuki's car in a light baby blue dress that fell just above your knees with some pale blue ankle strap heels to match. You always dressed up when you were nervous, it was a habit. This was your battle armor, your hero suit, you have self confidence sure but, it helped boost it just a little with dressing up. Your hair was perfect, your outfit matched, you had just the right amount of jewelry on, and a light amount of make up. You always tried to make it as natural as possible. The drive was a long one, which didn’t help the bad thought of everything exploding in your face go away.

Seeing you in distress was placing katsuki in a protective mood. He reached over interlacing your fingers with his, squeezing slightly to reassure you he was not going anywhere. He let out a comforting scent to calm his anxious omega. He gave a small smile when, he noticed your shoulders loosen up with your fingers relaxing in his hand. You gave a small squeeze back smiling up at him.

That's right everything will be fine. Everything will go smoothly. The second the thought passed your mind Katsuki hit the brakes making you lurch forward causing the seat belt to dig into your chest. You let out a distressed chirp at the sudden stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you came face to face with a very pissed off looking alpha, which so happened to be your brother. He stood a couple of feet away from the front of the vehicle staring angrily at Katsuki. For the love of-!!? Do you have a special hate for my positive thoughts that you have to shit all over it or, do you think its funny universe. You cursed to yourself in your mind.

Katsuki growled removing his hand from yours, unbuckling his seat belt. No no no no no! You haven't even gotten out of the car or, even made it to the house yet! Why?! Dear god why, is your brother starting a fight already! Before you got the chance to do anything Katsuki was already out of the car.

"Oi! What's your problem you fucking idiot!" Katsuki yelled out at your brother. You flinched...ahh goodbye romance. Marriage? Kids? Love life? What's that?

"You’re my fucking problem! You think you can just show up here with my little sister and, not get your teeth knocked in?!" Your brother yelled back. He then moved his heated glare towards you. You could see the hurt and, betrayal in his eyes. You already knew what the reason was, it was the simple fact that you didn't tell him.

You already knew he wasn't mad at Katsuki, he was just poor soul that took the blunt of his anger. He was upset with you. You’ve always been close with your brother. B/N was the middle child of your family, you were as thick as thieves, you always told him everything even about who you were dating but, this time you didn't. The overwhelming fear of your family not accepting Katsuki stopped you from telling him. Yes, B/N would jump on the band wagon of terrorizing your partners but, you always told him first before anyone.

"You must have some big balls to say that shit to me" Kasuki smiled but, you already knew what that smile was and, there was nothing pleasant about it.

You quickly unbuckled yourself getting out of the car "Wait! Wait! Wait! B/N please listen" You went to your brother's side pumping out your scent to calm your brother's inner alpha. You grabbed ahold of his arm pressing it against your chest. You suppressed the small chirp that wanted to come out due to the pain but, pushed through it. You didn't realize how hard the seat belt pulled against your chest until now.

"Oi Y/N, what's wrong?" Katsuki was instantly by your side checking on you. Meanwhile your brother was uncharacteristically quiet, now also glancing you over. You looked up at your alpha giving him a smile. You knew better than you lie to him.

"The seat belt hit a little too hard against my chest. I think i'm just a bit sore"

"I'm sorry" You heard your brother give a small apology with a sadden tone.

"We'll just call it even" You smiled.

"I don't" Katsuki glared down at your brother. "I don't care if you are her brother. That shit you pulled isn't ok. Grit your teeth" He growled out, the bitter burnt scent filled the air. He was pissed.

Katsuki grabbed your shoulder tugging you lightly to pull you away from your brother. Before you could even say word of protest out; Katsuki pulled his arm back, swinging his fist forward connecting to your brother’s cheek. Your brother was immediately knocked on his ass, his body meeting the asphalt. You gasped running over to your brother.

“Oh my gosh! B/N are you ok?!” You got onto your knees checking over him. Your brother let out a small groan, rubbing his cheek.

You turned glaring at your alpha, “Katsuki! What the hell!? I said, it was fine. It not like i was majorly hurt!”

Katsuki frowned crossing his arms, you knew he wasn’t budging from this. “It’s not alright and, he knows it.” He growled out. Katsuki’s ruby eyes never left your brother’s view.”I don’t give a fuck how angry you are at someone, it is never ok to hurt someone you love.”

“No one could have guessed this would happen!” You argued

Your alpha then moved his beautiful ruby eyes at you, “He forced us to stop the car causing you to get hurt. He needs to own up to the consequences of his actions weather it was intentional or not.Your safety is never up for debate.” He stated firmly with no room for further discussion.

“Y/N it’s fine. He is right.” Your brother stood up, bringing you up with him. “Which is why i didn’t move when, i saw what he was going to do.”

Your alpha grunted a acknowledgment at your brother. Katsuki went over to you bringing your body to his chest.

“Are you in pain?” He whispered in your ear while, rubbing your back gently. You felt your body relax into him with just his scent filling your senses.

You sighed in his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Nothing a ice pack can’t fix” God, you loved your alpha.

You heard your brother clear his throat. You looked over at your brother refusing to relinquish your comfortable spot.

“Let’s get home so we can both get a ice pack. Your boyfriend packs a punch.” He whined. The anger he once held was gone and, was now replaced with a look of peace or, relief...maybe both.

You pulled back slightly to look up at your alpha. “Do you still want to meet the rest of my family?”

Your alpha smirked at you, “I don’t back down on something, I've started.” Of course he wouldn’t. Katsuki pulled away from you to start heading back to the car. Until you brother called out to you both.

“Hey isn’t that Ground Zero’s Insignia on the hood of your car?” You looked over to see your alpha’s hero symbol on hood of his car.

You smiled brightly at your brother “Yup, Katsuki is our all star pro hero. Which as you can see, he is none other than Ground Zero himself.” You turned away from your brother getting into the car.

“..holy hell...wait till everyone finds out about this” Your brother stated with a shocked expression.

I feel like it was a bit rushed. OH WELL! Part 2 of Family Meeting will come out soon. Of course it will be about Reader meeting the Bakugo Family. I hope you enjoyed this! Like Share Comment :D 

[arctic-comet]

Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury