#its really hard to try to keep their fragile confidence from shattering while also having to tell them what theyre doing wrong

[administer-distractions]

.

[qoldenskies]

Omg I just read the entirety of the canary continuity and I love it so much! I was crying so hard by the time I was done with it!

Also, I feel so bad for all the brothers, especially Leo, Raph and Mikey. Not only is their brother hurt, physically and mentally, but they can't even do anything cause it was (unintentionally) their fault. Their relationship has broken, and they can't even fix it, because not only would Donnie think that they are lying about being nice again when they try to help, he can't even see them before having a panic attack, thinking that they are going to hurt him (or worse, kill him).

I can't wait to see what would happen in the future chapters!

hi!!! im so glad you enjoyed!! >:D

honestly ive been rolling around the particular angst with the other three in my head, and i've been excited to dive deeper into them and how they're handling it but i need to get through a particular part of the story before i can properly switch to their povs, but you better bet it'll be happening!!!

its the pain of not being able to show him the kindness and gentleness he deserves after everything that happens to him. despite his fear and initial trepidation, he practically folds into april and splinter when they reach for him, and he panics when he sees them leave, and he uses them as a lifeline when he's scared. already twice now they've talked him down from a spiral of panic and comforted him (although theyve been unable to do it when the others are around, so they always have to make them leave. even when they dont want to!) and it's somewhat established that it's not even normally how donnie responds to trauma. he usually needs a while to sit and process before he can come for comfort, and trying to push him does not work at All, but now more than anything all that he wants and needs is the affection they CANT GIVE HIM because he's utterly terrified of them, even though its ultimately the most important thing for him right now. more than anything donnie wants his brothers to keep him safe, but he thinks they're gone, and he doesn't know when the curse started, or what part of it was how they truly feel and what part of it was the curse speaking; and even if he did, they are a trigger to him and there's nothing he can do about it.

and for raph and mikey in particular, who are so tactile and affectionate (and are just as comforted by affection as the person theyre trying to comfort in most cases) its fucking devastating. with leo with his hidden low self esteem its still awful for him, but he knows what this feels like, he's only acting so different because he can't fall back on his old coping mechanisms; because they're the thing that HURT donnie, because the curse weaponized them, so he's turning to anger (in ME he is intentionally trying to start fights because he wants to be yelled at LOL) and trying to stay productive instead. but raph and mikey generally have always had the impression of themselves that they're Good People (mikey is very confident and he hasn't really been disillusioned at all yet, and raph is someone i see to be very secure in the idea that he's a good person, which can sometimes make taking responsibility/handling guilt difficult for him. although he matures substantially around the time of the movie) so its just. shattering.

mikey never saw himself CAPABLE of doing something this horrible (he's just a kid! sometimes he struggles to see past himself!) and with raph it was a confirmation of his worst insecurity; to some extent he has always seen donnie and mikey as so much more fragile than him (he does canonically understand that donnie is very sensitive/takes rejection super seriously, and he worries about hurting his feelings. ty donnie's gifts for the brains and brawn fuel i use you so liberally), and especially when he was younger he grappled with this fear of hurting them badly on accident (and he probably had in play before), and even with the self-restraint he displayed under the curse, he still caused all this CARNAGE... and there's nothing he can do about it. donnie can't even hear his voice right now without screaming. they both need to comfort in order to feel comforted and that's been ripped away from them, and they're doing so fucking awful. cannot wait to write their povs honestly i have a lot of ideas >:)

[alighieri-sparda]

Cann you headcanon about Vergil holding nero as a baby. But the s/o died while giving birth to him.

I just want angst heh

Vergil in Fortuna Headcanons: Nero and his mother fates.

➤ Masterlist | Rules 

Hello, my dear anon. I am sorry for my usual delay, I hope you are still here to read this.

That’s my first time writing DMC angst, I guess. So yeah it might be kinda shitty I’M SORRY, but I tried so hard. ;w; Hope you like it, my dear. I really do. If you’re not satisfied with its results, however, don’t be ashamed of asking me to rewrite it. I’d do it gladly for you.

Devil May Cry 3 gif because there were no good gifs of him in 4.

WARNING: Angst, mentions of death and blood. 

‣ ‣ ‣

A one-night affair was not something Vergil imagined he would find in the old city of Fortuna. In fact, the population of Fortuna was also not known by its good reception with outsiders; so, when that woman in red approached him and gently declared to be grateful for his work of slashing those demonic creatures, Vergil was more than certain that her words were not about gratitude only. He hesitated to proceed as soon as he found himself succumbing to her subtle proposal, but in his deepest thoughts, he had no real intention of letting this unique opportunity pass by.

Neither of them was completely sure of what they were doing. It was not like Vergil or the woman were uncertain about the decision they made though. Oh no, the point was definitely not that. It felt more like they were just following their pure instincts and deep desires, not giving enough credit to their insecurities or lack of experience on carnal knowledge. Specially Vergil got his mind all blank of important precautions since he was the one who was most aware of what that could turn into later. Besides, they had a wonderful and unforgettable night.

“Unforgettable” is, indeed, a precisely chosen word to describe the consequences of that night in Vergil’s life. He had no intention to come back to Fortuna at all: once his research was done, he would leave that antiqued island and keep his way on his unstoppable pursuit of power. His recklessness would have later consequences though since someone forgot to pull out even when neither he nor the woman had any kind of protection.

He tried his best to ignore his thoughts on the woman and yet her gentle words haven’t disappeared from his mind, not showing any possibilities to go away that soon. Those memories were pleasant of course, but nothing worth his attention, in his opinion. After four months of research and no expressive results, Vergil pretended not to be interested in that ordinary lady and left the old city. But it didn’t mean he didn’t leave something behind: among the crowd of hooded worshippers of the Savior, a humble woman had an accentuated belly bump kindly growing under her red dress.

All of his attempts to forget the woman were all in vain, however. During his lonely and self-destructive path of pursuing endless power, Vergil did remember her several times and wondered uncountable things about her current situation at the time. It started slowly: firstly, Vergil pondered if that gentle lady in red was doing right without him, due to danger caused by the demons who would show up in her neighborhood like on the day they met. Then, he remembered all the lovely words she said to him even after their night, and how her face contorted in sadness when Vergil sharply warned: “Thanks for the good time we had, but do not expect to see me again”.

But Vergil would not submit that easily. Oh, he stubbornly struggled as much as he could not to take another ship and go to Fortuna just to see if she was doing well. If she was safe. And when he finally figured out that the woman was almost certainly pregnant and his direct descendant was completely exposed, everything got even worse inside his mind. Those foolish distractions were driving him crazy, but for how much longer could Vergil run away from his responsibility? Would the consequences of his foolhardiness be that severe for his main goal to be worth his attention and time?

Vergil just made his decision when the memories about his childhood crossed his mind; his tricky subconscious focused specifically on his mother, Eva. After years of feeling abandoned, thrown to the cruel claws of the merciless demonic world with nothing but Yamato and his survival instincts when only being a child, the good remembrance of his calm and happy childhood alongside his family hurt like hell. What wouldn’t he do to have a happy life again? Maybe that woman and his child would be his unique chance to start again. To reconstruct what has left of his broken heart and give his descendent the happy life Vergil couldn’t have. To protect his family at last.

At the same time he missed those old times though, something deepened into his soul was blaming him to feel like that. Foolish weaknesses of his powerless human side, Vergil heard himself saying to no one more times he could’ve counted. 

After nine months of negligence and self-struggling, Vergil finally went back to Fortuna. He was still a bit annoyed about the decision he made, but he couldn’t help it anymore. Even if the woman didn’t want to accept him as her mate, Vergil would try to protect and support his kin regardless. His heart finally embraced at least a part of his humanity; Vergil realized after he stepped into the old gates. This would not distract him from his path of pursuing power, not even close to it; and they could even be something to motivate him to actually proceed.

Thus, the young son of Sparda lost himself among the dusty and antique streets of Fortuna in a search for the lady and the child who filled his thoughts for months straight, and after an hour walking through the common hooded crowd of Fortuna, he found himself in the same quiet street where the woman’s house was placed. Everything was just like it has always been since Vergil left, except for the wild and distorted growling coming from the said house.

No way it was happening again.

Vergil entered the house quickly, but he was too late. Even slashing those demons in the blink of an eye as he’s done uncountable times already, his main reason for being in Fortuna again was laying there: a lifeless cold body covered in blood. Why was she attacked by demons? Did they feel that a Sparda descendant was about to be born, or was she just another unlucky and random citizen of Fortuna who was a victim of the insatiable bloodlust of the demonic creatures? It didn’t matter at that point. Vergil failed on protecting someone who he cared about once more. He was still weak. 

He didn’t even get a chance to talk to the woman again. That sweet voice calling for him, the only one in the world that could make him feel loved? Vergil would never hear it again. 

Although, near the woman’s corpse, a little creature surprisingly was still alive. A defenseless baby was crying his lungs out to no one in that dark room. 

Yet still shocked with the woman’s dead body sight, Vergil immediately crossed the number of demonic carcasses and took the baby in his arms carefully. He had no experience holding a baby, but that fragile and innocent body fit perfectly in his embrace anyway, just like Vergil had done that instinctively. When Vergil put his eyes on his son and realized what was happening at that moment, he couldn’t hold back his tears. His son was alive in his arms, being warmly held and protected after a tragic loss of his family — something Vergil wished had happened to him when he lost his mother. 

However, the guilt Vergil felt due to his huge failure impeded him to keep his son with him. He could not take care of his son, he didn’t deserve it. Vergil didn’t have enough strength to protect him, not yet. But before leaving his son and keeping him away from the dangers of being related to a son of Sparda, Vergil gave him the name “Nero”. The name he would keep in his mind even in his darkest times to remember why he chose to obtain more and more power.

Wrapping Nero in the nearest black blanket he found and gently kissing his sweaty forehead, Vergil lost part of his soul when he basically abandoned his newborn son in front of the orphanage’s door, at the mercy of those who took care of and protected the defenseless children of Fortuna. Next to his wrapped little body, a grimy piece of cardboard was placed to not confuse anyone who would find him: he was Nero. His name would be the only thing Vergil allowed himself to give to him before leaving, no one could ever take it from him.

Once more, Vergil left Fortuna. But this time, he was certain he would go back: but only when he was worthy of it. He needed more power. More power to go back and protect Nero properly. Until that day, Vergil wasn’t confident enough to stay with him, no matter how badly he wanted to do so; it might be too risky. And if when he returned his son wasn’t there, alive and well, Vergil would shatter that city to pieces for pure vengeance.

Bonus: When Mundus turned Vergil into one of his puppets, he had access to his memories and found out about Nero’s existence. Then, Mundus decided to name his new creation as “Nelo Angelo”: to always remind that pitiful descendant of Sparda who he left behind and would never see again for being just a weak and miserable half-demon.

[thdorkmagnet]

Trust, Promises, and Resets

Welcome all to my first Undertale fanfic! This one took a bit to finish but I’m really, really happy it’s done and ready to be shared with the world! Just a short and sweet one-shot about Frisk and Sans dealing with resets and all the baggage that comes with them. Wanted to put my own personal spin on a very classic concept for the Undertale fanbase. This was also some much needed practice at writing these characters, hopefully I nailed them. 

Anyways enjoy!

Disclaimer: Undertale and all its characters belong to Toby Fox. All Rights go to him. 

The glow from the screen was starting to hurt Frisk’s eyes, the neon pop of orange color starting to burn into their retina, still they refused to turn on any lights, forcing themselves to remain sitting in the dark. They couldn't let anyone see them while they did this, not mom, not dad, not Undyne, not Alphys, not Papyrus, and not Sans. Definitely not Sans. Frisk had worked so hard to gain his trust, they would hate to ruin all the progress they had made with the skeleton.

Frisk let out a long sigh, staring at the word and trying not to lose their cool. 'Reset'. The word taunted them, a constant nagging at the back of Frisk’s mind, the power and hurt contained in such a simple word. Five letters that could make or break the world, that had the power to uproot so many lives. And Frisk alone held this power. 

They let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to keep their calm. It's okay, it'll all be over soon and this temptation won’t haunt me any longer. They thought, though the reassurance felt hollow. 

Slowly they raised up trembling fingers, reaching out towards the button. Time seemed to slow, a steady ringing in Frisk's ear, the room around them shuddering as if the fabric of the world was unraveling. The button seemed to be gleaming back at them, the cursed words beckoning them to press it and redo it all over again. To finally satiate the curiosity they were plagued by. Just let this be over, Frisk thought, the words desperate in their head. Just let it finally end!

Knock, knock.

The steady rapping of the wood outside Frisk’s door startled them, causing them to jump in place, looking towards the closed door in panic. They racked their brain, trying to match a friend to the sound, each Monster having their own unique knocking style. Toriel’s was steady and calm, more like a melody than a knock really. Asgore was strong and powerful, often making the walls around it shake with every rap of his knuckles; it definitely didn’t fit the goofy but lovable Monster Frisk had grown to know and love. Alphys was always so gentle Frisk could barely hear it and most times wouldn’t even hear the even quieter call after from the shy scientist. Undyne forgoed knocking altogether, prefering to kick the door open with no warning (Frisk still remembered the incident where poor Blooky had been on the other side). Papyrus often did the same but when he did knock it was rapid and enthusiastic, like he was just beyond excited and couldn’t wait to enter. None of those matched up with this particular knock so that just left…

"heh, you're supposed to say 'who's there', kiddo." 

Frisk choked on a gasp. No! Not Sans! Anyone but him! 

Frisk moved to press the 'continue' button, hoping to hide the evidence before it was too late but to their surprise the door swung open way too quickly and they wanted to slap themselves for forgetting the improvements the lazy skeleton had made on himself. At first, old habits had persisted, his movements slow and tired as if he hadn’t slept in years rather than constantly. But as he and Frisk grew closer, slowly and surely they had watched the life return to the small skeleton. Not to say he didn’t have his moments of laziness. He was still the same Sans he always was, able to nap at any time or place (usually on the job), preferring to be carried around by Papyrus rather than walk, and cracking puns whenever the opportunity presented itself. But he was more energetic, Frisk might even go as far as to say happy. The smile permanently plastered on his face didn't seem forced anymore. It felt natural and real. 

In fact, just the other day Papyrus had been praising Sans on his much needed enthusiasm and Frisk had been right there with him, proud to see their friend truly happy and at peace. 

But in this moment, so close to getting caught, Frisk selfishly wished for the old Sans back, if only to prevent the catastrophe that was coming as Sans stepped into the dark room.

"heya, kiddo. what'cha doin' sitting in the dark? don't tell me we’re both going knock-turnal, heh." Sans froze as he finally took in the scene, his eye sockets widening in what Frisk could only assume was fear. They knew how it must look, sitting in the dark in front of the screen that could undo years of Sans’ life. It was an incriminating scene to walk in on and Frisk cursed themselves for not locking the door, barricading it with anything and everything they had on hand to avoid this outcome. They had been careless. They had thought the house was empty while Toriel went out for groceries but clearly they were wrong. And now Sans would pay the price. 

Sans’ eye sockets, which had only a second ago shined with life and the promise of hope, dimmed till they were void, empty spaces, no light able to seep through the blackness. Frisk had seen that look enough times to know exactly what it meant. It meant they messed up. And the consequences were that vacant expression. How many times had Frisk seen it before? They had lost count. And all the hope and trust they had built up in Sans shattered and died in an instant. Just like that. “oh,” was the only word that escaped Sans’ mouth and it sounded forced and choked at that, as empty and hollow as the black voids his eyes had become. What had Frisk done?

“Sans, it’s not what it looks like.” Frisk hoped that Sans would listen to them, let them explain and maybe make things right again. But they knew that wasn’t the case, Sans’ broken mind had already jumped to the worst possible conclusion, just like it always did. Frisk wasn’t entirely sure this was fixable but they had to at least try. “I wasn’t going to-”

“heh, it’s okay, kiddo. i get it. knew it was a matter of time, guess i just wasn’t prepared for it to be today.” There was nothing in the skeleton’s voice. No laughter, no emotion. It was just hollow. How long had it been since Frisk had seen Sans this bad. This empty. It was as if the skeleton wasn’t even there at all, just a shell made of bones pretending to be him. He looked so fragile and tired, a gust of wind could probably blow him away. 

His bony fingers rubbed at his eyes for a few seconds and… oh gosh, were those tears? Frisk had really screwed up this time. Sans’s hands were back in his pockets and he tried to look casual, normal, and if not for the emptiness in his sockets Frisk might have believed it. And there was that smile, that dead smile that Frisk had worked so hard to wipe away. It was instinct for Sans, a defense mechanism against the emptiness in his soul. Just smile and joke it off as if nothing was wrong. Oh man, what was Papyrus gonna say when he saw that look was back? He had confided in Frisk once about how much it hurt him to see Sans that way. Miserable but closed off. It must have been torture watching from a distance as his brother slowly tore himself apart. 

“just, uh… do me a favor, okay kiddo?” Sans continued. “as your pal, just let me have one last trip to grillby’s before you… y’know. let me ketchup one last time before it all goes back.” The pun was painful for Frisk to hear. Normally they would laugh at how bad it was and then would follow up with something like, “Well I know those guys relish your company,” and then Sans would chuckle and say something equally as terrible and on and on it would go. But Frisk didn’t even smile at the joke, they just watched the skeleton sadly, feeling their soul shudder in pain, their sins crawling on their back. 

Before Frisk could give their answer, Sans had turned and left the room, the skeleton surprising Frisk again with his speed. Frisk was in the hallway a second later, chasing after their friend, desperate to make things right. "Sans, please wait!" 

A formation of bones appeared between the two and Frisk jumped, for a moment terror flooded through their soul. In a flash they were back in that dreaded room of yellow, the empty echoing halls torn and destroyed as thousands of bones jutted out of every crevice, breaking the once fancy hall apart. They could smell the blood in the air, could feel the bone lodged deep in their chest. The pain was unbearable as their soul was ripped apart and scattered to the wind and the last thing they saw before it all went to black was the glowing angry blue in their opponent's eyes, the words, 'dirty brother killer' echoing in their head. 

Frisk shuddered as they forced the memory back, burying it deep inside themselves. This wasn't the time for relieving the past, Sans needed them in the present. The bones protruding through the middle of the hallway and separating Frisk from Sans were a light blue, passing through them wasn't an option. That just left reasoning then. Darn, Sans was impossible to reason with in this state. But what choice did Frisk have? 

"Sans, please just let me explain." They had to make him see. Show him they weren't doing what he thought. 

"seeya 'round, kiddo," Sans said, looking back over his shoulder, giving his typical teasing wink, only now it wasn't playful. It was wrong. This was all so wrong. 

Frisk blinked and suddenly Sans was no longer in the hallway. They had been expecting him to use a shortcut but it still shook them to be alone. To suddenly be standing in the middle of their house, wracked with guilt and with no one to help provide any sort of comfort. Not that they deserved it.

Why? Why hadn't they taken more precautions? Why hadn't they made sure there was no chance of someone coming in on them? Looking back on it, Frisk felt stupid. Of course they would get caught! They had practically been begging for it. They hadn't even bothered to lock their door. Clearly Frisk had wanted this to happen! 

For a few moments Frisk just stood alone in the hallway, clenching and unclenching their fists, trying to think of a way to make things up to Sans while simultaneously cursing themselves for creating this mess in the first place. Just when Frisk was ready to slam their head into the nearest wall to try and release the image of Sans’ empty expression that circled their head, a loud voice rang throughout the quiet household. “HUMAN! SANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAVE RETURNED!"

Papyrus walked in through the front door (thankfully not breaking it down in his excitement) a proud, friendly smile permanently plastered on his face. Normally Frisk would be overjoyed to see him but right now, his undaunted kindness only made them feel worse and even more scummy. They didn't deserve a cool friend like Papyrus after what they had done to his brother.

The skeleton froze when he spotted the state of the hallway and the dozen or so bones jutting out of the floor. "WHAT HAPPENED HERE? DON'T TELL ME YOU ASKED MY LAZYBONES BROTHER TO SPAR WITH YOU?! BECAUSE WHILE I APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO HELP HIM GET IN SOME MUCH NEEDED EXERCISE, I'M NOT SURE TORIEL WOULD APPRECIATE YOU DOING IT IN HER HOUSE!" Papyrus paused, a frown briefly flashing across his face as he added, "TRUST ME, I WOULD KNOW."

Frisk said nothing, keeping their head lowered in shame. They didn't want to admit what they had done, not to Papyrus. They had already promised Sans not to breathe a word about 'resets' to his brother, the least Frisk could do was not betray Sans' trust anymore than they already had. 

Papyrus took notice of his friend's sad demeanor and immediately took it upon himself to cheer them up. The skeleton swept his scarf behind himself dramatically before loudly declaring, "BUT NOT TO WORRY TINY HUMAN, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL HELP YOU CLEAN UP BEFORE THE LADY TORIEL RETURNS FROM THEIR SHOPPING QUEST!!"

Frisk gave them the bare minimum of a smile, more of a grimace than a full on grin. "Thanks, Paps," was all they could think to say and they nearly flinched at their own sorrowful tone. Geez, since when had they gotten so bad at lying? Back in the Underground they had had the ultimate poker face, only Sans couldn't see through their blank expression. Now they'd be lucky to fool a blind bat with how obvious they were being. Then again, Frisk would hardly consider themselves to be emotional at all back then, feelings besides determination had been hard to come by. Frisk wondered if maybe the Monsters had been helping them this whole time and they hadn't even noticed.

Papyrus, seeing how distressed their dear friend still was, took a better look at the situation, hoping to piece together what exactly had happened to trouble Frisk so greatly. A quick glance around and Papyrus noticed something off. "WHERE IS SANS?"

Frisk bit their lip but hesitantly explained, "He went to Grillby's."

Papyrus let out a long sigh, shaking his skull despite the situation. "THAT LAZYBONES. HOW TYPICAL OF HIM TO MAKE A MESS AND LEAVE ME TO PICK IT UP. HE'S LUCKY HE'S GOT SUCH A COOL YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKING OUT FOR HIM," the skelebro added boastfully. 

Frisk shook their head, trying desperately to find some way out of this conversation without admitting to Papyrus what they had done. But no matter what scenario they thought up, they just couldn't come up with anything but the truth. So finally, the young human admitted reluctantly, "Actually me and Sans… had a fight."

"oh," Papyrus replied, for just a moment losing his loud, boisterous attitude. But then, in the blink of an eye, it was back as the skeleton was able to leap high into the air, doing a ridiculous spin as he went, which would normally get a chuckle out of Frisk. He was somehow able to completely clear the railing for the second floor, landing perfectly on his feet in front of his human friend. "NYEH HEH HEH, DO NOT FRET, HUMAN, FOR YOUR GREAT AND COOL FRIEND KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT TO DO TO FIX THIS PROBLEM!"

"You do?" Frisk asked.

"BUT OF COURSE," Papyrus continued, taking on a heroic pose. "IT IS THE DUTY OF ALL ROYAL GUARDS TO HELP OUT OTHERS IN NEED! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE SUCH DEAR AND IMPORTANT FRIENDS SUCH AS YOU!"

"Papyrus I don't-" Frisk started to interrupt but their skeletal friend was already lost deep in his rant. They were past the point of no return, Frisk often wondered at times like this if even a reset had the power to stop Papyrus. 

"I CAN DIVIDE UP OUR PLAN INTO THREE EASY STEPS: STEP 1. LOCATE SANS, STEP 2. PERSUADE HIM TO TALK USING MY WORLD FAMOUS APOLOGY SPAGHETTI (WHICH I WILL GRACIOUSLY LOAN TO YOU), AND FINALLY, STEP 3. AND THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE, YOU BOTH APOLOGIZE AND AGREE TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN."

 Frisk shook their head, feeling annoyance bubbling up in their chest, but not at Papyrus. Never at him. "That's not gonna work, Paps! Sans is really upset at me and I deserve that! I really messed up! I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again." The young human hung their head, letting the shame of their actions wash over them.

But Papyrus being Papyrus didn't let this stand, aggressively putting a comforting hand on their shoulder and declaring, "I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH TALK, FRISK! AS YOUR COOL BEST FRIEND AND SANS' BROTHER I ASSURE YOU WHATEVER YOU DID IS NOT ENOUGH TO RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH HIM."

"But how do you-"

"HOW DO I KNOW? WELL IT'S VERY SIMPLE HUMAN, BECAUSE YOU TWO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER!! I KNOW YOU TWO LIKE I KNOW MY VERY OWN COOL MIND, NYEH, AND I CAN SEE HOW HAPPY YOU TWO ARE TOGETHER!" Papyrus knelt down so he was level with Frisk, giving them a reassuring grin, his eyelights dancing. "YOU'RE OUR VERY DEAR HUMAN, AFTER ALL, AND I KNOW THAT'S HOW SANS FEELS TOO! SO YOU SEE, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR!"

Frisk took a moment to let that sink in, their guilt ridden mind tossing around this idea with skepticism, while their heavy soul flooded with hopeful optimism. They were torn between both and their body couldn't seem to decide which one to listen to more. "You really think he'll listen to me?"

Papyrus nodded energetically. "OF COURSE!! I'D BET IT ON MY GREAT AND POWERFUL NAME, NYEH HEH HEH!"

Frisk couldn't help but smile, a common side effect from being around the enthusiastic skeleton for too long. It was just what Frisk needed, to smile despite the uncertainty and anxiousness of the situation. It made them feel stronger. It made them feel determined. 

Once that feeling took hold, drowning out all the negative fears and worries, Frisk knew what they had to do. It wouldn't be an easy option, in fact, it would most likely be terrible but they were determined to make it up to Sans. To regain one of the most important friendships they had. Papyrus was right, they needed Sans just as much as he needed them.

So, after taking in a long breath for courage, Frisk looked up to their skeletal friend and simply asked, "Can you give me a ride?"

…

Grillby couldn't think of the last time he had seen Sans so miserable. The bartender had seen every single side of his friend over the years, both good and bad, even the parts he was quick to hide from everyone else. But even someone as mysterious and secretive as Sans had to break sometimes and, well, it was always in Grillby's company. The flame Monster had debated with himself many times why that was, maybe because Papyrus never came into his bar so Sans didn't feel the need to keep up the act, maybe it was the copious (and to be honest disgusting) amounts of ketchup Sans consumed that helped loosen his metaphorical lips, or maybe the skelebro just found Grillby's presence comforting. Whatever the reason, Grillby was always happy to be there for Sans, for both the good and bad days. 

And today was one of his worst. If memory served, the last time Sans had been this depressed was when they were still living underground. To everyone else he probably seemed like his normal, comedic self, greeting the regular patrons both monster and human with his typical lazy wave hello. But Grillby had seen something off immediately in his old friend. He could tell something was eating the skeleton alive and whatever it was was leaving a heavy toll on poor Sans. 

The skeletons' eye sockets were shrunken with whatever terrible emotion was plaguing him, his cheekbones stained with dried tears he had hastily tried to rub away. His smiling mouth was twitching which Grillby knew from past experiences was Sans desperately wanting to frown but his unique body structure making it impossible to do so. 

Sans looked small, even more than usual, slumping forward as if it was everything he could do to stay upright. To see his dear friend in such a pitiful state made Grillby's soul feel like it was splitting in half.

Of course, asking Sans what was wrong did nothing, the skeleton was a natural born liar. He had quickly shrugged the series of questions off, his smile so believable that anyone who didn't know Sans as well as Grillby did would have believed it. "you know me, i'm always bone-tired, heh."

The other monsters and humans accepted this answer immediately, some even laughing at the poor excuse for a joke, but Grillby wasn't so easy to convince. But he hadn't bothered to push the subject, since it was clear Sans was not in a sharing mood. Instead he just patiently took his order (ketchup as usual) making a mental note to keep an eye on his friend. Today was a busier day at the bar though, so Grillby was sadly not able to watch over Sans as closely as he wanted. Still, at the very least, Sans didn't seem to be getting any worse. But he also didn't seem to be getting any better, either. 

Grillby had just made up his mind to try and talk to Sans after closing time, when the pleasant sound of ringing filled his ears thanks to the bell that hung above the door, alerting him a new customer had entered. Grillby glanced over at them quickly, trying not to take too much attention off of the customer who was ordering, but he couldn't help but take note who had entered his humble bar. 

The human called Frisk had stepped into Grillby's establishment, looking unsure and nervous, a rarity for the determined young child. He could tell Fisk didn't want to be in there and Grillby could only assume it had less to do with his bar and more of Sans himself. After all, Frisk always seemed right at home there, Sans would often bring them along during his regular visits and Frisk would have a smile on their face from the moment they walked in, until they left with Sans. 

Now things were starting to come together. The reason for Sans' terrible mood had to be related to Frisk. The skeleton always seemed happier when the kid was with him, so the fact they had both come in separately… it was clear to Grillby the two had to be fighting, although over what was anyone's guess. Sans and Frisk always seemed to get along swimmingly, Grillby hadn't even seen the two raise their voices at each other. Sometimes Grillby could swear Sans saw himself as Frisk's dad the way he would indiscreetly fuss over them. It was hard to imagine the two weren't on speaking terms. 

Frisk glanced around at the crowded bar clutching a large plate wrapped with tin foil against their chest, clearly searching for someone when their eyes met Grillby's. The human gave him a questioning look, which the fire monster returned with a pointed finger towards the front, where Sans sat, still looking small and miserable.

Frisk gave them a halfhearted nod of thanks before slowly pushing their way towards the skeleton. Grillby watched them until an impatient customer grabbed his attention and he was forced to resume focus on his job, though he still cast an occasional glance towards the pair to see how things developed.

When Frisk reached Sans, they hesitated, taking in the sorry sight of their skeleton friend. Sans was slumped onto the bar, his face resting in his boney arms, which meant Frisk's presence had gone unnoticed so far. Normally, anyone would assume the skelebro was asleep, drinking himself to exhaustion but Frisk saw through that. For one thing, he wasn't snoring, which was a telltale sign of Sans lost in dreamland. And Frisk could also see his body shaking, ever so slightly, almost invisible to the naked eye. Sans wasn't sleeping, he was crying, and making it look like his typical lazy demeanor.

Frisk spotted the bottle of ketchup beside him and nearly gasped as they saw it was unopened. Not a drop was missing from Sans' favorite drink and that was a very bad sign. This situation was more serious than Frisk had initially thought. Normally the skeleton would get drunk to hide the terrible feelings welling up inside him, but if he was ignoring the monster-equivalent of alcohol then he must be in a really, really bad place and Frisk wasn't completely sure they could pull him out of it. 

Well that thought faded as quickly as it came, replaced with 'determination' and Frisk thought of Papyrus who was waiting outside. He believed Frisk could make this right and so they wanted to believe it too. And if they couldn't… well, Papyrus had mentioned as Frisk hopped out of his car that if they took longer than thirty minutes, he would come in after them.

Having the enthusiastic skeleton for backup allowed Frisk to finally take action, they set the plate of apology spaghetti down on the bar before climbing up onto the stool next to Sans. The skeleton didn't acknowledge them at first, still pretending to sleep. "Sans," Frisk whispered, causing their friend to flinch. Frisk wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't been expecting someone to call his name or because it came from Frisk themself but it hurt either way.

The skeleton slowly raised his head as if it drained him to do so. "oh heya, kiddo, heh, wasn't expecting to see you here." He tried to sound natural but it was clear by the grating edge to his tone, Frisk had been right, Sans had been crying. "guess you were really fired up for some of grillbz cooking, huh? or maybe something was burger-ing you?'' Sans let out a few halfhearted chuckles, his eye sockets glued to the countertop.

"Sans," Frisk began, keeping their voice steady. "I came cause I needed to tell you something about earlier."

"oh, heh, you're ready to reset already. Guess that's fair, i couldn't bring myself to get that last final drink but… seems like I'm just delaying the inevitable. thanks for waiting on me, kid. i'm… ready when you are."

"Sans, no! That's not what I mean!" Frisk exclaimed, growing frustrated, but not at Sans, at themselves for causing this whole stupid mess. "You're not listening to me! I'm not resetting!" They hadn't meant to raise their voice, they really hadn't but it seemed to be the only way to get through Sans' thick skull.

Sans stared at them long and hard, his piercing black sockets trying to read Frisk like a book and the human did their best to portray trustworthiness in their body language, making a point to keep their eyes locked with Sans' sockets. After a few endless minutes of judgement, Sans finally asked, "and your really bein' honest with me? because you can tell me if not, i promise i can take it."

Frisk shook their head, their small hands clenched into fists on their lap, wrinkling the pant leg in their strong grip. "I'm telling the truth. I don't want to go back, I don't ever want to go back! I couldn't ask for a better ending. Everyone's happy and finally getting to live life thanks to me. Papyrus gets to drive his car every day, even though he's really slow and keeps getting tickets." Frisk smiled warmly as they thought of the hyperactive skeleton, tears beginning to form at the corners of their eyes as they thought of what all would be lost if they ever gave in. "Undyne finally has the freedom to do more than fight all the time and can watch as many stupid awesome animes they want. And Alphys is so confident she doesn't stutter or talk bad about herself anymore. Mettaton's more famous then he ever was Underground and it's even better because now he gets to share that popularity with Blooky and Shyren. And every day, mom and dad look so happy just getting to garden or teach instead of trying to carry everyone's burdens on their shoulders. And Papyrus and I can both see how much better you are since coming to the surface and I would never want to take that away from you or anyone." 

Frisk sniffed, wiping their eyes on the back of their sleeve, trying to recover enough to continue. Sans just watched them with growing concern, petrified by their tears since the skeleton had never once seen them cry in the entire time he knew them, which was probably more than anyone else, human or monster. So the fact he was seeing this now left him completely off-guard and clueless as to how to react. He made several moves to comfort them but talked himself out of it at the last second, not wanting to make things worse. 

Still the fact he noticeably cared was enough to provide a small sense of comfort to Frisk and they were grateful for it. "But it's not just the monsters," Frisk continued as soon as they got their voice back. "This is the happiest I've ever been in my life! I have a real family and friends that love me and take care of me and I don't ever want any of that to go away!"

Frisk continued to sniffle, trying to keep the sobs buried at the back of their throat, the sadness returning faster than they could stop it, this time stronger than before. Tears ran down their cheeks and they hiccuped out the rest of what they had to say. "B-But no matter what I do or how much I say I won't, you always think I'm gonna reset everything. I can't convince you! Am I really that bad a person that you can't ever trust me?!" With that, the floodgates burst open and Frisk began to sob uncontrollably, doubling over in their seat and weeping pitifully into their hands. 

The moment their sobs began, Sans knew he could no longer just sit and watch, now was the time to act. Without a word the skelebro reached over and swooped Frisk into his arms, holding them in a tight but loving hug against his chest. He cooed soothing words into their ear while rocking them back and forth in his seat. He had an arm protectively around their frame, while the other he ran through their short, brown hair. Sans didn't even care that his favorite jacket was now soaked in the kid's tears, all that mattered was comforting his kiddo.  

It randomly occured to Sans that this had to be quite the sight for the other patrons of the bar, a small human child sobbing into a forever-grinning skeleton monster. Not that he particularly cared what anyone thought of his and Frisk’s friendship. Still he did take a quick glance around the bar to see if anyone had noticed the situation. Sure enough, the outburst had attracted the attention of every monster and human inside, a few of them seemed putoff by the sight like Sans expected but most just looked concerned, especially the regulars. The dogs had all started whining in concern, Lesser Dog's neck stretching out towards Frisk. Even Grillby had stopped what he was doing to watch the scene play out, Sans reading the worry from his flaming face. 

The skeleton quickly returned his attention back to Frisk as they began to shake and hiccup, their sobs slowly dying down in strength. Sans listened to their choked breaths before he decided to try and risk a joke, hoping it would lighten the mood and lift the kid’s spirits a little. “well, call me a half-eaten plate of cookies because now I feel pretty crumby.” Between their sobs, Frisk let out a little laugh, small and halfhearted but it was music to Sans’ ears. He would take any form of joy over listening to them cry a moment longer. Heck, he would prefer a reset over the soul-breaking sobs bursting from his poor kid, especially since he was part of the cause of their tears. 

He waited until they had recovered enough to listen, saying in a soft, gentle tone, “listen frisk, i’m so sorry i made you feel that way… that i didn’t trust you. I know you may not believe it but i probably trust you more than myself, heh.” Sans gave Frisk a little squeeze for reassurance. “so please don’t blame yourself for this dumb comedian’s mistake, babybones.”

“You aren’t dumb,” Frisk spoke up, their voice muffled by Sans’ jacket. 

“and you aren’t a bad person,” the skeleton monster countered.

Frisk finally pulled their face out of Sans’ jacket, staring up at him with tear-stained vision. “So… you aren’t mad at me?” 

Sans almost laughed out loud at the question, the ridiculousness of it all astounding to him. Here he was trying to comfort Frisk after causing them to cry, all because he couldn’t accept that his time in the underground was finally over, that Frisk really wouldn’t reset and trap them all down there again. If anything they should be mad at him, not the other way around.

“of course i’m not mad, kiddo,” Sans finally replied, rubbing a hand up and down Frisk's back in a soothing motion. “ i just got a little too sans-itive back there.” The two both chuckled at the joke, a real, genuine smile returning to Frisk’s face. That’s better, Sans thought with relief. He did a quick scan around the rest of the bar and saw that everyone else had visibly relaxed too, now that Frisk had finally stopped crying. 

Since he got the kid calm he figured now was as good a time as any to get some answers so he set them back in their own seat while asking, “so, uh, if you don’t mind me askin’ what were you doing before, if you weren’t trying to reset?" 

Frisk tensed, biting their lip and looking down at their lap but thankfully there were no more tears like Sans worried there might be. The human child took a long moment, building up the courage to say, shifting uncomfortably in their seat and not meeting Sans’ eye. Clearly it was something they didn’t want to discuss. Sans was about to change the subject and be done with it but Frisk spoke up just in time. “I was… trying to find a way to destroy the ‘reset’ button,” they admitted sadly. 

Sans blinked, the only shock and surprise he let show on his face. He wasn’t expecting that. “uhhh, okay seems a bit weird since you yourself said you never wanted to reset again,” the skeleton responded finally.

“Yeah, but…” Frisk paused, their eyes flooding with fear while their small fingers fiddled with the front of Sans’ jacket, clenching and unclenching the fabric in their grip. All at once they seemed so very far away, lost in their own world and Sans feared he wouldn’t be able to reach them from where he was, he feared it was a path Frisk was trying to walk alone. 

“kid?” Sans whispered worriedly, cupping their cheek in his skeletal palm. Frisk’s eyes refocused, snapping them out of whatever horrible vision they had just been shown and they hesitantly met Sans’ gaze. “c’mon, tell me what’s wrong.” 

Frisk took in a deep breath, in and out, before admitting, “I-I’m afraid of m-myself.” 

Again this was not what Sans was expecting but he made sure not to let his surprise show on his face, knowing Frisk needed unflinching support at this time. “what, a nice kid like you? What could you possibly have to fear about yourself?”

“T-That I’ll reset anyways. That I’m not determined enough to keep this happy ending. That’ll I’ll… ruin everything,” Frisk said, their eyes filling with shame. 

Sans gave them a small pat on the head. “but i thought you were determined not to reset? that you’re happy the way things are.”

“But what if it doesn’t last?” Frisk asked, clutching Sans’ jacket so tightly their knuckles turned white, their eyes pleading and desperate as they looked to their skeletal friend for answers. “What if something goes wrong a-and I stop being happy? And then the temptation comes back and I can’t stop myself from-from going back there.” Frisk was starting to hyperventilate and Sans started rubbing circles on their back again, trying to keep them breathing regularly. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if the kid passed out on him. “I don’t want this to end Sans, I don’t want to disappoint you or break our promise but the fact that I don’t know for sure terrifies me!” 

Sans took a minute to respond to that, keeping a blank expression while inwardly battling with the turmoil that was threatening to crush him. On one hand, he was afraid of the exact same thing, too. Afraid of waking up back underground, powerless to stop it, completely at the whim of an unpredictable human. And yet, Sans could tell Frisk needed comfort, reassurance, and he was the only one who could provide it, the only one who understood what they were going though. It had never once occurred to Sans that Frisk might be going through the same fears he was and he wanted to slap himself for being so self-centered he hadn’t even noticed the struggles his dear friend was going through on their own. 

And despite his fears, what he said to them before rang true. He believed in Frisk. Sure they had messed up before (heck wasn’t like he was exactly Mr. Perfect either) but they had worked so hard to make up for past mistakes and then some. Without them, Sans wouldn’t be free, his family and friends would still be trapped underground, slowly losing their hope of ever seeing freedom for themselves. Sans had judged Frisk more times then he could count, but that last time, before they broke the barrier and declared they would never reset again, he could see they were determined to do right. There had been resolve in their eyes that day at the Judgement Hall, filled with the strength to do good. They held themselves taller than they ever had before and the way the light reflected off their skin and clothes, they looked like a real hero, like… an angel. That was the moment Sans knew things would be different this time, the first time in a long line of resets he allowed himself to hope. Small and fragile, yes, but it was what started him down the right path to fixing himself and he had needed that more than he even knew at the time.

So if he wasn’t willing to return the favor, then he’d be a real, bone-ified jerk. Heh. Not to mention a massive hypocrite. Besides he was positive if Frisk started crying again then he would start weeping some very unmanly tears, too, and he did not want to explain to the other patrons of the bar what caused his own water works, especially Grillby. He was already pushing it by coming there in such a depressed state, if the bar owner caught sight of him crying… well, he might just have to find a new place to drink his favorite brand of ketchup just to get him off his back. 

Sans wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to cheering people up, despite his jokes and pour sense of humor he was too much of a cynic to do much of that, but he had a pretty good idea what to say to the kid to ease their mind a little. So, one deep breath later, he gave their hair a good, long ruffle, not enough to hurt them but still strong enough that they were tipped slightly forward by the action.  

When he was finished, Frisk seemed taken aback by his response, their hair standing up at odd angles and their eyes wide with confusion but Sans’ plan had worked, he had successfully drawn their attention away from their own troubling thoughts and that was a win in his mind. “c'mon, kiddo,” Sans began, giving them a fake scolding look (which wasn’t easy to do when you are always smiling). “what kinda talk is that? thought you were supposed to be the ‘most determined’ or whatever. you seriously trying to tell me you're afraid of some button after literally coming back from death itself dozens of times?” 

Frisk didn’t respond, just staring at the skeleton blankly, so he decided to continue on with his speech, making sure the message sunk in deep. nah, sorry not buyin’ it.” He shook his head before putting on a warm smile, one he knew Frisk would recognize. “the frisk i know is way too stubborn for that. so stop tellin’ yourself otherwise.” 

“But Sans, what if something happens? What if things go wrong and ‘resetting’ might be easier?” Frisk asked, fear flooding their vision for a moment as they gripped his jacket fearfully. 

But Sans just shrugged it off, reassuring his kid, “then we’ll deal with it. i’m sure between the two us, we numbskulls can come up with some kind of solution that doesn’t involve resetting.” 

Frisk smiled a little at the pun but they were too focused on the rest of that sentence to comment on it. “‘We’?” they repeated in a small voice as if uncertain they had heard Sans' right.

The skeleton just nodded his head, winking down at his human friend. “that’s right, kiddo. no matter what happens or if things go terribly right or terribly wrong, i'll be right there by your side, so that we can face it together.” 

“You mean it?” Frisk asked hopefully. They wanted to believe that. They wanted so badly to believe they weren’t be alone in dealing with this anymore. But after everything they had done to Sans, even if he didn’t blame them, Frisk just couldn’t accept that as the truth.

“of course i meant it. What kind of dunkle would i be if i wasn’t there to help my kid through a crisis?” he winked playfully at his kiddo but it still didn't quite get through Frisk's barrier.

They at least gave a small halfhearted smile at the nickname they had made up for Sans but they just weren't convinced. After all, Sans had proven he was a pretty good liar. How could they know for sure he was telling the truth? That he wasn't just saying what they wanted to hear like adults tended to do.

The skelebro could see the doubt on their face and so swept them up into another tight hug before saying, "i'll be here for you, kiddo. no matter what. i promise."

Frisk’s mouth dropped open at the word ‘promise’. Sans hated making promises. He avoided committing himself to pretty much anything just to avoid the responsibility and consequences promises brought with them. Despite that, it was obvious promises were something Sans regarded highly, because when he did make them, he did not take them lightly. They were the only reason he hadn’t just disposed of Frisk the first time they met. In all the resets and all the different outcomes Sans had never once spoken those words to them and Frisk had honestly believed he never would. So for him to say those words without force or question or any kind of convincing blew Frisk's mind! 

Frisk pulled out of the hug, so they could show Sans their disbelief, giving him a look resembling a gapping fish. The skeleton couldn't help but chuckle at the odd expression (not that he blamed them) before giving their hair another good ruffle. "yeah, yeah, i know. 'i hate makin' promises','' he shrugged as he repeated his old words back to himself. "But if it helps ease your mind and keeps this from happening again…" Sans gestured around the bar, stopping at the unopened bottle of ketchup. "...then i guess it's worth it."

Frisk let out a long puff of air, their face relaxing for the first time in an hour. "So I guess you really condi-meant it," they replied and the two burst into laughter. Sans' laugh roared around the fairly-sized bar, drawing many questioning eyes onto the pair but neither noticed nor cared. All the stress and tension that had built up within them was finally able to be let out, a normal, pleasant calm falling over the pair. 

From where he stood cleaning out empty shot glasses, Grillby smiled to himself, happy to hear Sans' laughter in his bar again. The place always felt empty without it, even if the skeleton was a bit of a handful. 

"you have no idea how much I pro-missed hearing that laugh of yours, buddy, heh," Sans admitted jokingly, winking down at the giggling Frisk. This only made them laugh harder until there were tears in their eyes. 

Seeing that now was the right moment for it, Sans offered the kid his hand to shake. "so how's about it, frisk, partners against time?" 

Frisk smiled and nodded vigorously, taking the skeleton's outstretched hand. A loud fart noise echoed through the bar, any newcomers there stopping what they were doing with a look of disgust. Grillby's happy smile turned to an annoyed frown, facepalming in utter frustration and disappointment. He made a mental note to talk to Sans on a day he was doing better because at this rate he was gonna scare away all of his business. 

Frisk and Sans, on the other hand, both snorted, trying to hold in their laughter. But when Sans flipped over his hand revealing the whoopie cushion taped onto his palm the two lost it, laughing uncontrollably at the prank, Frisk holding their stomach from lack of oxygen. 

Finally, their roars of laughter died down to a low rumble, then a scattering of chortles. Once Frisk and Sans had worn themselves out, they both just took a moment to catch their breath, panting heavily and grinning ear to ear (or non-ears in Sans' case). Once the skeleton could speak again, he lazily stated, "welp, better get back home before pap freaks out and goes lookin' for us." Sans quickly swiped up the ketchup bottle off the counter, popping the lid off and finally taking a massive gulp from the bottle before sliding it away into his jacket for later. No use letting it go to waste, after all.

“Ummmm,” Frisk mumbled, looking over at the clock on the wall, quickly reading the time. It was only a few seconds till 7:30, right when Paps had said he would come in. “About that-” 

Just as the clock switched over from 7:29 to 7:30, the door to the bar busted open, the loud noise startling human and monster alike, a silence falling over the place as all turned to see who had so hastily entered their place of relaxation. Papyrus stood proudly in the doorway his scarf waving in the wind somehow, despite there not being any wind to speak of. The door itself was now nothing but splintered wood from where Papyrus had kicked it open and Grillby hung his head in defeat, already dreading another phone call to the very frustrated door repair man. The skelebro ignored all the confused and judging stares from around the bar, his focus on his brother and friends spotting them near the back. “SANS! HUMAN! DO NOT FEAR FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM HERE TO HELP YOU SOLVE YOUR DIFFERENCES AND BECOME BEST FRIENDS AGAIN!” the skeleton declared loudly. 

“bro?” Sans asked in confusion, an eyebrow slowly raising. He glanced over at Frisk, who offered a sheepish expression as the only means of explanation. “so, you got my bro in on this too, huh?” Sans commented before passing it off with a shrug. “heh, guess i can’t blame you, he is too cool to go without.”

“OF COURSE I AM!” Papyrus agreed, putting a hand to his chest. He quickly snapped out of his self-congratulatory praise though and returned focus to things almost as important as he was. “BUT DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" he scolded, moving his gloved hands to his protruding hips. "SANS, I DON’T KNOW ENTIRELY WHAT THE TINY HUMAN DID TO UPSET YOU BUT I’M SURE WHATEVER IT WAS IS NOT ENOUGH TO STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND. IF YOU DID STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND YOU WOULD FEEL BAD AND WHEN I WAS OUT HANGING OUT WITH FRISK YOU WOULD PROBABLY LAZE AROUND AT HOME AND I DON’T NEED ANY MORE EXCUSES FOR YOU TO BE LAZY.”

bro, it’s fine,” Sans spoke up, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “frisk and i already worked things out.” 

“OH.” Papyrus paused for a second or two, letting that process, before he stuck a dramatic pose and proudly declared, “WOWIE! I’M EVEN BETTER AT THIS THEN I THOUGHT! NYEH HEH HEH!”

“you sure are, bro,” Sans agreed, pulling the bottle of ketchup out and taking a small sip. 

“You’re the greatest, Papyrus!” Frisk added, smiling up at the tall skeleton.

“WELL YES I AM, THANK YOU FOR NOTICING, TINY HUMAN FRISK!” Papyrus picked Frisk and Sans up and pulled them into a loving hug. “AND YOU AND MY BROTHER, even though he is very lazy, ARE VERY GREAT AS WELL, NYEH HEH HEH!” 

Frisk hugged the skelebro back while Sans just hung loosely from his arm, already fighting sleep, but still smiled nonetheless. “we’re only cool cause we hang out with you, bro,” Sans said, his words already starting to slur. 

“SANS ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW? YOU JUST MADE UP WITH FRISK! WE MUST CELEBRATE ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS.” 

“you know me, bro. I’m… the best at being la….zzzzy,” Sans began to snore loudly and Papyrus let out an over dramatic sigh. Frisk covered their mouth to keep their giggles from escaping, finding the two skeletons immensely funny and entertaining. There was never a dull moment with them around. 

Papyrus put a gloved hand to his forehead, before commenting bitterly, “I CAN’T TELL IF THAT WAS MEANT TO BE A PUN OR YOU ARE JUST REALLY THAT LAZY.”

“bit of both,” Sans muttered in his sleep. 

“OKAY, YOU LAZY BONES, IT’S TIME TO GO HOME AND PUT YOU IN YOUR PROPER BED, SINCE MY ARM DOES NOT COUNT AS ONE,” Papyrus declared, already stomping towards the door. 

“Wait, Papyrus, can’t we at least get something to eat first?” Frisk asked, sheepishly, rubbing their stomach. “I’m really hungry.” 

“NOT TO WORRY, HUMAN. FOR TGE GREAT PAPYRUS ALWAYS PLANS AHEAD, NYEH HEH HEH! YOU CAN EAT MY APOLOGY SPAGHETTI ON THE WAY HOME."

Frisk made a face, trying their hardest not to let their disgust show. Although Paps’ cooking had gotten better since getting to the surface, it was still mostly inedible. And the smell of burgers and fries had already filled their nostrils, making their stomach growl in want.

Luckily, Sans already had a solution to this dilemma, his right eye lighting up blue, unseen by Papyrus, thanks to how he was draped over his bro's arm. The plate of unopened spaghetti then also turned the pale color to match the skeleton's eye, before it suddenly scooted itself across the bar and onto the floor below. There was a shattering sound heard from Grillby's side of the table, said monster watching the plate fall before whipping his head in the direction of Sans, fuming with anger. 

Sans shrugged to the fire monster, hoping he would take that as an apology, while telling Papyrus, "sorry, bro. already are it all. you know apology spaghetti is my favorite spaghetti. you can taste the remorse in every bite."

Papyrus gasped, setting the human down so he could hold Sans at arms length (startling the older brother) his eyelights somehow sparkling with joy to convey just how happy he was to his brother. "OH SANS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT, NYEH HEH HEH! I ALMOST FORGOT HOW MUCH YOU ENJOYED MY COOKING! YOU ARE THE BEST BROTHER I EVER HAD!"

"heh, pretty sure i'm your only brother, too," Sans mentioned.

Papyrus began spinning them in a circle, which Sans' body instantly disliked, the place where his stomach would be groaning in protest. "OH BUT IT'S TRUE! I'M CONFIDENT EVEN IF YOU WEREN'T MY ONLY BROTHER YOU WOULD STILL BE THE GREATEST BECAUSE ONLY THE BEST BROTHER WOULD LOVE MY SPAGHETTI SO MUCH!"

Sans put a hand over his smiling mouth, trying to keep his dinner down. "paps, ya think you could stop with all the spinning before this spaghetti turns into seafood?" The skelebro asked miserably. 

Papyrus did stop, looking at his brother in confusion. "WAIT, HOW WOULD IT DO THAT?"

Sans shrugged nonchalantly, despite his pale complexion, his face beading with sweat, and his groaning insides. "because, uh, y'know cause i was gonna throw it up."

Papyrus frowned at his brother muttering, "FIRST OF ALL, SANS, THAT IS DISGUSTING. SECONDLY, WE ARE SKELETON MONSTERS, FOOD JUST TURNS INTO MAGIC. WE PHYSICALLY CANNOT THROW UP."

"i hear ya, bro, but the rest of me just can't stomach it," Sans replied simply.

Papyrus stared at him blankly before shouting, "OH MY GOSH, SANS! THAT ONE WASN'T EVEN CLEVER!"

"hey, you can't blame me for the bad puns, bro," Sans pleaded, although there was not a hint of remorse or regret on his face. "i'm just too excited to get to spin more time with the great papyrus." 

Papyrus smiled, saying brightly, "WHY THANK YOU SANS, I KNOW I'M VERY GREAT-" However, he froze upon realizing the pun his older brother had just made. "SANS! WHY MUST YOU RUIN OUR MOMENTS WITH YOUR INFERNAL PUNS!" Papyrus stomped his foot once in anger, while Sans just rolled with laughter. He was soon having to clutch his front, his rib bones aching from the uncontrollable laughing fit.

Papyrus just rolled his eyes, knowing there was not much more he could do about his brother's obsession with terrible puns. In all honesty though, Papyrus would happily endure as many terrible jokes as it took if it meant getting to see his brother this happy. Not that he would ever, ever admit it to him. 

Papyrus felt a small tug on his scarf and looked down to see Frisk staring up at him with a hopeful expression. “Soooo, does that mean I can have something to eat here?” They put their hands together in a pleading motion, begging with their eyes to try and break through the skeleton’s barriers. Papyrus avoided their eye for a moment, seeming to think it over. 

From behind the three, Grillby crossed his arms, staring at Papyrus long and hard as he waited for the skeleton’s answer, the flames around his head burning a little stronger than normal. The least Papyrus could do after breaking his door (again) was buy something so that Grillby could afford to replace it. Still he didn’t voice this out loud because Papyrus was Papyrus and he really couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He was as charming and naive as he was destructive. With a combo like that, Grillby figured he would be paying for a lot of repairs if it meant having the skelebros around.

Sans, however, would be getting a firm lecture from him once they were alone because his bar was not a trash can, nor should it be treated that way. Although even Sans was difficult to punish, if Grillby had a right mind he would have banned them both ages ago, but he had a soft spot for the skeletons so he tolerated all their strange antics and pranks even if he probably shouldn’t.  

Finally, Papyrus seemed to reach a decision as he said in a halfhearted tone, “VERY WELL, SINCE I KNOW YOU TWO LOVE THIS PLACE, for reasons i don’t quite understand, WE MAY EAT SOMETHING HERE BEFORE GOING HOME TO MY SPAGHETTI.”

Frisk hugged Papyrus’ leg, saying excitedly, “Thanks, Papy! You're the best!” 

“I KNOW, NYEH HEH HEH,” Papyrus replied warmly, giving them a loving pat on the head before sending them off to order.

Sans finally stopped laughing long enough to call over to the kid, “hey, frisk, buy me a burger would ya?” 

“I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY ATE MY SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus questioned his brother in confusion. 

A few drops of sweat ran down his skull as Sans tried to think up a response to that, finally settling on, “i got a ton of room left, bro.”

“SANNSSSS….” Papyrus growled in a warning tone. 

But this didn’t stop Sans at all as he finished his joke with his signature wink, “a skele-ton.” 

“UGH, WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER?!” Papyrus shouted out of annoyance for his lazy brother. 

“c’mon you can’t stay mad at me, bro. we both know you love my puns,” Sans said, giving his brother a little pat on the shoulder. 

Papyrus sighed dramatically. “I SWEAR SANS I WILL DROP YOU AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO WALK YOURSELF HOME,” the skeleton threatened, though they both knew it was just a bluff. Papyrus would never drop his one HP brother for any reason, especially over a couple of bad puns. And even if he did, Sans had his shortcuts. But the older skeleton bro knew the real reason such a threat would never come to pass.  

“no, you won’t. you love carrying me around,” Sans pointed out in a nearly teasing tone. 

“I ADMIT NO SUCH THING,” the tall skeleton stubbornly responded, even though they both knew the truth.

“thanks for being there for me and the kid, bro,” Sans suddenly said, his tone switching from joking to serious in an instant. “it really means a lot to me.” 

“YOU ARE WELCOME, BROTHER,” Papyrus replied sweetly. But his jovial tone turned bittersweet as he added a bit sadly, “I’M JUST GLAD YOU AND THE HUMAN AREN’T FIGHTING ANYMORE. I KNOW YOU TWO ARE VERY CLOSE SO SEEING YOU UPSET AT ONE ANOTHER IS VERY DIFFICULT TO WATCH.” 

Sans didn’t respond to that, just watching as Frisk cheerfully spoke to Grillby, who was busy preparing the food, their light smile and happy laugh making Sans feel hopeful again. It was strange, all the years of darkness and despair, of endless resets and depression and death, they felt so far away when Frisk smiled. It made him want to smile too and keep smiling forever. There was still a lot to do to put himself back together but it no longer felt impossible. And it was all thanks to his kid, Frisk. 

“UM, I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED,” Papyrus reluctantly spoke up, cutting through Sans’ thoughts. “BUT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO WILL FIGHT OVER WHATEVER IT WAS AGAIN? BECAUSE IF SO THEN I SHOULD KEEP SOME APOLOGY SPAGHETTI READY FOR IF OR WHEN THAT HAPPENS.” 

Sans thought that over for a moment, looking up at Frisk again. Grillby had just finished with their order consisting of two burgers, some fries, and a vanilla milkshake for Papyrus. The human child must have felt their eye sockets on them because Frisk turned and waved over to the pair, smiling truly and genuinely at their very dear friends. And that look was all it took to give Sans his answer. “nah, bro. i think me and frisk are done doing the same thing over and over again. it’s time to start doing somethin’ new. and i for one am really set to start livin, heh.” 

A/N: Yes the last line was sorta a pun. More of an inside joke though XD

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 22

<= Chapter 21

Summary : Vanessa brings a scared little kid back to her manor. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/74145501

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

HEEEEEEY NEW CHAPTER (sorry for the late update these days !) I hope you'll like this chapter !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 22 : “I n-need guidance.”    

The trek to the manor was something Snatcher could describe as anything but enjoyable. Being dragged by the one who had broken his heart and killed him, leaving him to rot in a cold cellar, all alone- no, the former shade was definitely not enjoying what was happening, far from it. He was terrified. Being dragged away by his murderer, not knowing what would happen to him, not knowing if he had even saved his friends earlier… His mind was a mess and his body was no better.

The now young Prince was being carried through the snow, his skin slowly getting blue from how cold the temperatures were. He could barely feel his feet anymore, just like his hands, his clothing certainly not made for such terrible weather. The more they walked, the more Snatcher had trouble keeping up, his legs shaking both from the fear and from the cold. No matter how much he tried to pull away, nothing he did actually managed to make Vanessa falter in any way.

He knew she would not hesitate to break his wrist should he keep resisting her. After a while, Snatcher stopped. All he could do while being dragged like this was to look at his surroundings- or what was left of his forest. The snow was covering everything up, a deep and thick white layer hiding the vegetation… And, to his great despair, most likely frozen statues of his minions, those who were too slow to flee.

The former ghost looked away and shut his eyes hard- he didn’t have the courage to witness any ice statue of someone he hadn’t been able to save. Again. He couldn’t help but feel like the same story was repeating itself, hundreds of years after it all started: Vanessa’s unstable thoughts acted up, she froze Subcon and all of its surrounding regions, and now she was going to lock him up again after killing everyone once more.

This was never going to stop, now, was it? Or, perhaps, it would… After one of them died, once and for all, putting an end to this never-ending story. However, at this particular moment… Snatcher wasn’t so confident about his own survival in the matter: with a frail and fragile body, completely powerless both figuratively and literally, the child had no way to get out of this without finding a good plan.

Would he find one, though…?

Soon, the silhouette of the old manor started to appear in front of them. Snatcher’s feet hurt and he could barely feel Vanessa’s strong grip on his wrist anymore. The sensations in his limbs were numb and so was the pain… But he knew this wasn’t a good thing, this only proved how much his body was suffering and was trying to survive. How long would it even last, given his situation…?

Snatcher’s eyes widened at the sight of the manor, ice visible on his lashes, the wet traces of the tears on his cheeks now completely frozen. It stung, it burnt- yet it was just the beginning of a new nightmare, the former ghost was more than aware of that.

The child’s stare fell on the two statues in front of the porch, unmoving but, he knew that, very much sentient and deadly. Snatcher felt chills running through him and a feeling of panic spread inside of him: as a ghost, he could deal with them, those had never been a big problem, to begin with… But as a human, no, as a kid… This changed quite a lot and, for a reason he couldn’t place yet, Snatcher felt like his emotions were even worse. Sure, becoming human again had felt awful in that regard, already- but now? He had the impression everything was just more… Intense, in some way. While, as an adult, he would have been just as scared from seeing the statues, now… Now, Snatcher had the urge to run away and cry, before curling up and hoping for something, someone to save him.

What… What was happening to him…?! The same thing had happened earlier while he had been facing Vanessa. Had his mind really become younger as his body had? Was this even possible? It didn’t seem right… He was still “him” after all!

So why did he feel so different?

Snatcher shut his eyes once more as they passed by the statues, a wave of intense fear hitting him- but nothing happened. Those things remained perfectly motionless, keeping the same pose as Vanessa dragged him up to the door.

-“There we are,” she cheerfully said, and for a brief second, she almost sounded like her old self. Almost.

With a swift gesture, the Queen opened the door and entered the manor, pulling him inside as she did so. The second Snatcher was in the entrance hall with her, she quickly closed the door behind him and… Locked it, finally letting go of the child’s wrist after that. The sound of the lock made Snatcher’s face pale up even more than it already was. Sure, this had to be expected… But, nonetheless, this just made him feel even more terrified. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the organ pounding inside of his chest and his legs trembling at the terrible realization that he was now trapped with his murderer.

This simple thought seemed to put some order in his mess of a mind while his survival instincts took control of his body again. His life was on the line, and this place was dangerous, so very dangerous. Horrifying memories came back to him, only intensifying his urge to get out of here as soon as possible. Without thinking twice, his legs moved on their own and he dashed to the closest room- the kitchen.

He had to flee, now!

Unsurprisingly, the Queen hadn’t expected him to try to run away so soon after she let go of his wrist. A small gasp left her lips as she turned her head in his direction, a bit too slow to react. Snatcher’s little hands had now reached the door handle.

-“Stop right there!” Her voice echoed in his back, making chills run down his back, and the temperature dropped distinctly. Oh Gods, oh Gods…! Panic fuelling him, the child opened the door and dashed inside, closing the door as fast as he could. Oh, but he knew this would do nothing to hold her back… After all, she had frozen the entirety of Subcon, so a small wooden door was barely an obstacle to her. Still, fear and instincts were in control, telling him what to do without wasting any second.

And he was right to hurry: as soon as he closed the door and started to run away, the Queen opened the door again, entering the room. Her aura was now much darker and it was easy to see how annoyed she was. Ice was spreading around her from her feet, her shadow more prominent than ever, and her ghostly face even scarier than it previously was.

-“Come back here!” she yelled at him, but he kept running, turning to go to the other part of the room: the living room. He knew from memory that there was another door there, which he would be able to use to go back into the hallway, hopefully gaining enough time to disappear from her sight long enough to hide. She was quite hunchbacked after all, maybe he’d be able to distance her, even if just a little…!

However, his hopes were soon shattered as a loud, strident “enough!” resonated in the room, making it shake lightly. The temperature dropped considerably, to the point where Snatcher felt like he had been thrown back into the cold snow outside. This was a pretty good indicator of how irritated Vanessa was- he had learnt that the hard way in the cellar.

Before he was able to react, the Queen stomped her foot on the wooden floor. Instantly, a line of ice spread to his own feet, fast, trapping them and immobilizing him. It all happened in a blink, so much that Snatcher fell forward, still caught in his momentum. Yet, his ankles couldn’t move- and as his body hit the hard floor, a horrifying cracking sound echoed in the room, one he had heard oh so many times, one he had loved listening back when he was a sadistic ghost in charge of Subcon Forest- the sound of broken bones.

One of his ankles had twisted in an unnatural way as he fell down. The adrenaline and the cold allowed him not to understand what had just happened, temporarily blessing him with ignorance while all he could think about was to crawl away, in vain. His feet were stuck into the ice, preventing him from moving away from this very spot, no matter how much his nails were scratching at the floor in the hope this would help him to get away. It didn’t.

Panicked breaths left his lips, his heart pounding more and more into his chest. This was it, he was going to die, there was no way he’d survive this, absolutely no way-

-“You are quite the disrespectful child, aren’t you?” scolded a voice behind him, reminding him sharply of the dangerous monster standing in his back. Slowly, ever so slowly, the former ghost turned his head in Vanessa’s direction, his cheeks deadly pale and his heart stopping as his eyes met hers. Her red eyes were glaring at him and her shadow looked spikier than it usually did. The ice spreading off her feet was even more intense than before, slowly trapping the wood under its cold surface.

The Queen was livid.

-“I- I- I’m sorry,” he breathed out, unable to take his eyes off her, too terrified to do so. This was the end, this was how he was going to die- again: “I’m sorry, p-please, I didn’t-”

-“Quiet!” she shouted at him, her rage even more noticeable as the temperature dropped yet another time. The ice trap around Snatcher’s feet fortified, and it was only then that he noticed the strange position of his ankle. As if just seeing it was what Snatcher’s body needed to realize he had been injured, pain started to grow inside of him. The adrenaline wasn’t strong enough to contain it anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes as a silent scream escaped him, the pain becoming stronger and stronger as seconds passed.

It hurt so much!

Under so many intense emotions, the tears in his eyes finally fell, rolling down his cheeks as a few sobs left his lips. Oh, Gods…! He couldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to- he knew it would just hurt even more should he try to crawl away again.

Quite surprisingly, Vanessa’s furious expression softened as she noticed his suffering and heard his cries. Had he not been in this situation, he would have found she looked like a mother staring at her injured child- but this was not the case, oh no, far from it.

She had been the one to hurt him, even indirectly. She was everything but a mother-figure, he knew that much. Still, contrary to what he had first thought, instead of hurting him even more, she crouched to his level. Her face had indeed softened, which… He wasn’t sure if he should see it as something positive, really.

At least, she didn’t look like she was going to kill him, so that was that, he supposed…

-“Aw, look at what you did,” she cooed with “compassion”, though he knew very well she wasn’t able to feel such an emotion. No, she was just a cold-hearted monster. Ha.

Then again, not the time for puns.

He glanced back at her, obvious fear visible in his eyes. What was she going to do to him…? More tears rolled down his cheeks, stinging his face with how low the temperature was in the room. Should they go lower, his tears would most likely freeze on his skin…

-“I told you to stop, didn’t I?” she continued with the same cooing tone, except this time it had a reproach side to it. Snatcher didn’t answer, too terrified to do so, only able to wait for his terrible fate. However, his silence didn’t seem to please Vanessa and she reached to his right ear, pinching it as a parent would do to a disobedient child, and pulling it up.

-“Didn’t I?” she urged him, irritated once more, and Snatcher just knew she was waiting for an answer.

-“Y-yes!” he gasped from the pain, sobbing more while his head tried to follow the movement for it not to hurt too much: “Yes, you… You did!”

As if this was enough, the Queen slowly let go of his ear… And instead, let her hand wander on his face, stroking it with affection. Her expression turned mother-like again and she tilted her head to the side, staring at him with tenderness.

What the Hell was going on…? Snatcher couldn’t move, paralyzed as he felt her sharp claws caressing his cheek, the only movements coming from him being shivers. That only reminded him of that time in the cellar… That time where she had frozen his right eye…

-“You look so much like him…” was her next sentence and the expression on her face turned to some sort of nostalgia, one that the previous ghost really, really didn’t like: “Is it why you’re trying to run away so bad?” she then asked with a lower tone, her hand suddenly tensing on his cheek.

Oh no. Oh no, Snatcher knew exactly this intonation, and this wasn’t good in the slightest. And just like he had thought…

-“Why do I bother?” added the Queen, her features hardening from what seemed to be both anger and frustration: “What if you’re just like him? Ready to leave for someone else, abandoning me and leaving me forever?”

Snatcher’s eyes widened as the gears in his mind turned and turned and turned- until he was starting to understand what was going on. Vanessa was in fact trying to-

-“Maybe you’re not worth my help,” she concluded, coldly, her eyes soon turning to daggers, just like they had been hundreds of years ago.

The Queen was seeing him as a kid who needed guidance, someone she could take care of in her own sick way, and the reason for that had probably to do with his appearance. She was mistaking him as a child who looked like her old lover, a child she could teach how to behave, a child she could control… A child who could fill the hole in her cold, dead heart.

And this was just terrifying- though this was nothing compared to what the former shade felt as he saw her lifting her clawed hand up, ready to end his life once and for all. Oh no. Oh no. No, no, no, no-!

-“W-wait!” he shouted with a loud, panicked voice, hoping the Queen would stop- even if just for a second. Snatcher had to say something, anything! His life depended on the words he would use, literally. Any mistake, any wrong sentence, and this would be over for him.

He had experienced it once, and this was more than enough.

To his greatest relief, the shadowy monster stopped, her motion interrupted as she watched him intently- he could tell she was waiting for what he had to say. This was his chance, his only chance.

-“I-I don’t know w-who you’re talking about,” he lied, his voice trembling and his chest heaving up and down from how scared he was: “I-I’m sorry for trying to leave, I was…” he gulped down, his eyes fixed on the hand that had been so close to killing him again: “I was scared. I’m… I don’t know better, I need…” he continued, trying to find what she wanted to hear. But would she believe him…? There was only one way to find out.

-“I n-need guidance,” he gulped down again, afraid of Vanessa’s reaction to his words. But then again, what other choice did he have in a situation like this ? “I… You know best, and I… I’m just a child. I… I know nothing.”

His lower lip was trembling as he stared at Vanessa, his body trembling. What was she going to do after that? Would she listen to him, or would she kill him just like she had years ago? The suspense was unbearable… If she didn’t end his life first, then his heart would do the job just fine by pounding more than what his body could handle. And after a few seconds, ones that had seemed like hours, days, no, centuries to Snatcher… Vanessa lowered her hand slowly, a tender and yet sick smile taking place on her features again. A few giggles left her mouth, but the child knew that they were nothing but poison.

No matter how human Vanessa seemed to behave sometimes… It was impossible for him to forget what she had done to Subcon, what she had done to the village, what she had done to its inhabitants and… What she had done to him.

-“Oooh…” she cooed affectionately, and while Snatcher hated that sound… He felt safer. Apparently… Apparently his words had worked enough to touch the Queen which, in his situation, was more than anything he could have asked for.

-“How cute,” she mused to herself, before focusing her attention on the former ghost once more: “Perhaps you’re not entirely like him… Maybe I could teach you how to be a suitable heir to the throne,” she told him, before adding in a lower voice, almost to herself: “And I’ll make sure to turn you into the perfect prince, unlike him.”

Each of her last words sounded like venom on her tongue, like she was sickened just by mentioning his old self. Now, her resentment was now fully apparent and Snatcher was more than relieved to know she hadn’t put two and two together about who he really was… Otherwise, he was certain that this icy, clawed hand would have ended his life without even giving him the chance to save himself.

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw her hand hovering above his trapped feet… And suddenly, the ice turned to snow, finally giving him the possibility to crawl away. However, the moment he tried to pull his feet away, an acute pain instantly stopped him, making him cry out: his ankle was still very much broken. The Queen seemed to notice this and she covered her mouth in a way that lacked sincerity.

She was just playing the role of the perfect Princess, reacting like the social rules used to dictate her behaviour in public- but now, whether it was out of habit or because she actually wanted to act this way, Snatcher just loathed her even more. Oh, how he wanted to put an end to her life, once and for all, to finish what he had never had the courage to do.

This needed to be done if he wanted Subcon to be safe someday, perfectly safe-

-“Don’t worry,” she told him softly, trying to reassure him like one would try with a scared animal. But the former ghost was anything but a scared pet, and this only terrified him even more. She extended her arms to him, as if she wanted to pick him up- the motion made Snatcher panic once more and he tried to crawl away again. However, despite what his survival instincts were urging him to do… All he could do was to stop, the pain preventing him from fleeing what seemed to be inevitable now. Not listening to his sobs, to his scared whimpers, the Queen lost no time in picking him up like one would do to a kid-

But that was what he had become, right? A useless, powerless kid, unable to save his friends, not even able to save himself! Rage fuelled him again, but not against Vanessa. This time, he was furious at himself, furious for being so weak, furious for not being capable of defending himself- he could do nothing, nothing but just wait for it to end.

What other choice did he have in his condition? He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight Vanessa, couldn’t wait for his friends to come and save him! From what had happened with the Time Piece, he had no idea if they had survived, and if the bow-wearing kid hadn’t found a way to escape the ice prison Vanessa had built around her, then… Then she was most likely dead.

This was the worst case scenario of this whole situation. More tears left his eyes, wetting his cheeks even more, stinging the places where his previous tears had frozen, had burnt his skin- all he could feel was fear and despair.

The joyful Queen readjusted her grip on him and held him like a toddler in her arms, ignoring his sobs and his trembling. No, on the contrary, she seemed like she was voluntarily not paying attention to them, only focusing in the beautiful and perfect reality she thought she was living in.

-“There we go, there we go,” she patted his back and, to Snatcher’s greatest horror, she started to walk towards the door leading to the hallway again.

Where was she taking him…?

As if she had guessed his thoughts, she merely smiled happily, laughing again with that awful giggle of hers:

-“Aw, don’t worry,” she tried to reassure him again: “A young prince like you could use some rest after hurting yourself like that,” she explained, before smiling again: “Luckily, I have a spare room for you!”

The former ghost’s mind was soon plagued by confusion. A spare room? He didn’t remember such a thing when he used to live in the mano- but then, it hit him. There was indeed a spare room in this cursed place.

The nursery they had commissioned for the child they eventually never had. And Vanessa was taking him there.

This was a pure nightmare… A nightmare Snatcher wouldn’t be able to escape that easily.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

Well, someone is going to have a good nap in a perfectly not scary nursery :)

I hope you liked this chapter, thank you so much for your likes and reblogs (also I read your tag and aaaAAAH THANK YOU) !

=> Chapter 23

[havebruises]

“Cauterizing a Wound” with Warren + Mitchell requested by...I can’t remember but it was probably @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi and they’re Warren’s hurt tag list anyway! for @badthingshappenbingo​

requests open

cw: | captivity + restraints | injuries, knives + blood | light choking | nausea | noncon touch | intimate whumper | burning, obviously | blink + you’ll miss it suicidal ideation

-

“I don’t know why you cry so much. You’re not exactly made of porcelain, doll.”

Warren gave a half-coughed laugh, because it sure felt like he was, after all the bruises and fractures and injuries. A toy some naughty child had smashed against the wall without knowing how fragile he was on the surface. Blood-brushed bisque cracked all the way over with no hope of repair.

Normally, something so broken wouldn’t be allowed near anyone’s hands, for risk of the shattered material cutting up vulnerable fingers. He would be trashed, simple as that. But Mitchell had no worries guiding his touch over bare unwilling skin. It wouldn’t cut him. Warren wasn’t made of pottery. He was flesh. He had nerves, sparking with pain unlike any real doll and it was so gratifying feeling him twitch with agony.

He was soft, too, under calloused hands. Shaking and taut as a wire against his restraints where his limbs were spread out on the table, wrists above his head and ankles down at either corner of it, leaving him forcibly exposed like the knife sessions. Despite the icy metal surface, lying on the table ended up being the rare place he felt warmth in this place- from the constant intimate touches, and from the smears of fresh blood all over his right thigh. Mitchell loved to have one hand on a blade and the other hand smoothed over some vulnerable part of his body. He supposed it should have been a relief, to no longer be so cold. All it did was make him more sensitive to the pain.

Mitchell had won the scuffle an hour prior. The first time Warren had ever really tried to fight, had had the opportunity to fight in weeks- and he’d screwed it up. Warren had been pinned on his back with Mitchell’s knees squeezing his sides, both of the man’s hands on his jaw looking over cuts and bruises like they were reflections in a crystal. The sudden indignant rage that swelled in his chest and knotted up his stomach prompted him to make a move for the blade Mitchell had set aside nearby. The confidence that assuming he wouldn’t try at least- it was disgusting.

As sudden as the decision was, Warren wasn’t quick enough to avoid a big hand snatching his wrist. It squeezed him so hard he thought it might snap in multiple places, forcing him to let go of the knife. It had clattered to the ground and Mitchell simply released the boy’s wrist and scooped it up. One hand pressed down firmly across the front of Warren’s trachea while he adjusted his stance atop the redhead and sunk the knife-tip recklessly against soft flesh. 

“You know better! What were you thinking?” Mitchell hissed, affronted.

Warren choked and grasped at Mitchell’s wrist, trying to pry it away from his neck with a short scream as the sharp edge cut into the muscle of his thigh like it was paper. Slow at first, dancing a thin jagged line into his skin.

Then, it hilted without warning. A massively impulsive gesture from someone who always took his time with every cut, and had moments of thought between each blow. His captor usually made sure he had the time and energy and meaning required to make every move count. Like someone was scoring his infliction of emotional damage. Like he was being judged by how long he could keep the boy from bleeding out while still making him scream.

This wound in the boy’s leg was agonizing and risky and Mitchell hadn’t thought ahead, but the penetrative motion of it just felt so pleasurable that he didn’t even move at first. He just watched Warren gasp, the poor young man shivering hard to remain still rather than squirm and make it worse. Warren had been there long enough to understand that twisting about always made it worse. His chest still heaved under Mitchell, and his eyes had rolled so nicely in the moment. The fingernails digging into the man’s wrists were easily ignored for the sweet whine that trailed down in the back of Warren’s throat.

Even now, standing above his doll at the body-slab table and cleaning the messy flesh that betrayed Warren’s lack of porcelain- it had been worth it. Mitchell was already considering doing it again. He just wished he had someone else to take care of the mess afterward.

The deep slice had been scrubbed out, but it still bled in rich pulses and pooled over the edge of Warren’s thigh into a puddle at the crease between his leg and the shining metal of the table. It’d be an issue if Mitchell simply decided to stitch it up. A life-threatening, pallid sort of issue unsolved by even deep tissue sewing.

And whoever had any fun with something as small and painless as a needle and thread? It was worth the risk of infection, in Mitchell’s eyes. Well worth it.

Oh, and how Warren wailed when he saw the slim metal rod heat up to that telltale matte coal-red, smoke flickering in the air above it. His arms strained beside him and his wild eyes met Mitchell’s, pleading with him- begging- offering him anything in return for that implement not going in where the knife had only so soon ago came out. He could feel the thick blade’s path in his leg and he knew where that iron would go. 

“Stop stop stop wait--”

A rough hand clapped over his forehead and shoved his head down with a clunk, not wanting to stop those sweet cries but also refusing to let him jerk around like an animal and harm himself. That was Mitchell’s job, as Warren was so often reminded. It was usually an accident, when Warren hurt himself- so far, anyway. The mad grab for the knife had been the closest the redhead had gotten to trying to kill himself, and only because the motion had been so monumentally stupid that Mitchell might have just killed him for it. But Warren was apparently worth the trouble.

“Shh, doll,” his captor called down to him, with a little smirk that implied he didn’t really hate the sobs. “This is for your own good, why are you crying this time?”

He dropped the heavy iron tip down and let it graze the side of Warren’s thigh, the boy’s breath catching as he fell silent to the sound of soft sizzling. His leg felt aflame, like laying his palm flat on the hot metal of a stove only he couldn’t wrench himself away. He arched his spine sharply, but the restraints held him as safely as they always did.

The tip of the iron moved inward, toward the oozing wound, then- inside it. 

Warren yowled, mouth wide open and teeth bared, eyes wide and fists white-knuckled and shaking as Mitchell wiggled the implement into his slickened, open flesh, searing shut any split veins in the way of it. That’s all it took blissfully, the boy’s eyes rolling back and his body falling limp other than the tremble overtaking his whole body and his short panting breaths, sweat sheening his skin. He hardly twitched when Mitchell pulled the iron out and turned it off, setting it aside on the table to cool.

He woke to the scent of cooked meat, burnt hair, and antiseptic, the stench lingering in the air with the misplacement of a friendly barbeque in a morgue basement. It roiled his stomach instantly, and he had to clench his jaw and swallow hard to keep from vomiting. He’s freezing and wet, the table still dripping with water from the hose- though his leg had been towelled off and there was a dry tautness on his skin that implied bandaging. He couldn’t find the energy to move his head and look.

He didn’t want to. There was a dull, hollow pain that radiated up and down either side of his leg, leaving the outside of the radius numb from exhausted nerves and half-consciousness. The muscle in his thigh twitched on its own and he winced every time.

Mitchell leaning above him took up all his vision, toweling off his hands. Warren, shaking and pale, was most striking when splattered in blood. His red hair stuck thinly and contrasted to his forehead, and his lips were bruised and bright from being bitten.

Gorgeous, Mitchell thought, saying nothing. Warren said nothing. The silence was loaded with terror, matched in equal measure by his tormentor’s pleasure. He felt as if his pain was worthless in that way. It meant nothing, and the helplessness that curled around in his gut whenever he noticed it would be distracting- but for the pain.

He’d never felt such pain, even long after the iron had cooled. The sheer amount of it brought blackness into the edges of his vision, framing his captor in a closing tunnel. Soon Warren was overtaken again, finding blessed peace in unconsciousness lying flat on the table.

There was a time when he’d first arrived that he’d fought sleep. He wasn’t fighting anymore.

Warren was nothing less than grateful for it now.

[seijch]

tsukishima kei | dooms•day

tsukishima kei + gender neutral!reader

genre. romance, angst, bits of fluff

word count. 1.9k

recommended listening. matt maltese - as the world caves in

synopsis. how would you spend the next twenty-four hours, knowing that they would be your last?

12:00 AM | 23:59:59

The clock strikes midnight.

You exchange a glance with Tsukishima.

This is the beginning of the end, it says. Are you ready? it asks.

The meteor is en route to Earth. The planet has less than twenty-four hours left to live.

You haven’t been able to sleep much these days, and Tsukishima can’t blame you. Instead, you stay up together, a movie you’ve seen countless times playing in the background. “Can we watch something else? I don’t know how keen I am on making this one of the last movies I ever see,” he drawls.

Your relationship has always required mastery of reading between the lines, peering through the hairline cracks in words and actions for their true meaning. You called him out on it, once.

(“You’re like a nut,” you’d blurted, legs draped over his lap as you scrolled through your timeline.

There had been a beat of silence before he deadpanned, “What.” When you glanced up from your phone, he had been giving you a look.

Looks, in your relationship, are quite commonplace. Tsukki’s full of them: hard looks that express his exasperation, split seconds of pure adoration he thinks you don’t notice, and even capital-L Looks that lead to sweaty bodies against smooth bedsheets.

That night, his look had been one of muted curiosity. “You know,” you pressed on, sitting up to close the distance between you, “like how squirrels break open nuts to get to the good stuff.” To prove your point, you had knocked on his skull and stifled a laugh at his grimace.

“You’re calling me a nut?” His mouth was set into a hard line. “You could’ve just as easily called me an oyster, say I’m a pearl or some sappy shit like that.”

“First of all, no,” you frowned, having switched to carding your fingers through his hair. “When have we ever been into sappy shit? Besides, I think it’s funnier to call you a nut. So I will.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more in my life,” he said, leaning into your touch regardless.

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that.” You had taken the victory that night, planted a chaste kiss to his lips as your prize.) 

You know he doesn’t mind the movie; in fact, you think he enjoys it. You don’t know how to tell him that a numb feeling’s set in, ghosting over your fingertips. You don’t know how to tell him that the two things keeping you steady are his arms around you and the movie (which, really, isn’t even that good) playing.

So you don’t. The way he holds you tighter than ever tells you everything you need to know.

3:16 AM | 20:44:15

“I take it we’re not sleeping tonight?” Tsukishima asks, long fingers wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate.

You blow on your own mug before responding. “What’s the point? We’ll be asleep soon enough.” Forever, you don’t add.

“Fair enough.”

The first sip is sweet in all the right ways. You cherish the little joy, the small victory, while you can.

5:49 AM | 18:11:57

The sun rises on the last day you’ll ever see. You and Tsukishima watch it crawl up the high-rise buildings around you, darkness giving way to dawn. You’ve never understood the appeal of chasing after sunrise and sunset, but you start to wish you hadn’t taken something so constant for granted.

Tsukishima’s fingers graze yours as they hang from the railing of your apartment’s balcony. His fingers toy with yours, intertwined without your palms touching. He does this often, and you’re sure you can map out the callouses of his fingers, each line of his palm by touch alone.

It’s as the sky bleeds from orange to pale blue that it hits.

Your eyes sting with incoming tears at the finality. You won’t finish college. You won’t get to live your dreams, move into a proper house. You won’t get to see Tsukki, your Tsukki at the end of the altar, waiting for you to join him.

“I love you,” you choke out, voice strained. It’s the only thing you can think to say at a time like this. “I mean it. I always mean it, but—” You try to stress your words, make it absolutely clear that you’ve never meant anything like you mean this. “I mean it. I love you, Kei.” You retract your hand from his, needing both to wipe away your tears.

When you turn to look at him, he’s crying too.

1:57 PM | 10:03:17

You’ve just gotten off the phone with your family, the first and last people you called when the news of the world’s end got out. When was the last time you saw them? Saw your friends? The time you have left isn’t enough to see them one last time.

Your fist trembles as you press it against your lips, eyes sore but stinging with tears kept at bay.

Despite this, the sun shines cheerily outside. It’s a beautiful day, everything washed in afternoon light. You figure this is better than spending your last day with the sky painted dreary gray.

Tsukishima comes up behind you, arms rubbing circles into your upper arms. “I just got off the phone with Akiteru.”

“How is he?”

“With our mom.” You know he wishes he could be there too, wants for it like nothing else. You can only dream to grant his eleventh-hour request.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” And then, “Let’s get out of here.” You turn to face him, surprise clear as day. (You suppose that if anything can drive a homebody outside, it’s the end of the world.) “I figure you don’t wanna die in our shitty apartment.” His hold on your arms drops, instead taking his hands in yours. “Let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

You scan the apartment one last time. (There really seems to be a lot of lasts today, but you figure it can’t be helped.) This was your home for months, despite the leaky faucet and chipped wallpaper.

Every corner oozes with memories, more than enough to make your heart feel as though it’s fit to burst. Tsukishima’s thumb caresses the back of your hand. That’s right. Your other home, the one you can’t afford to lose now, is right in front of you.

You get dressed.

7:25 PM | 4:35:18

The sun sets on the last day you’ll ever see. You think that you like sunsets a bit more than sunrises; less waking up early (or staying up late), a view that gives you more than enough bang for your buck. You watch the way orange seeps through the sky in reverse, dusk giving way to the dark of night, head resting on Tsukishima’s shoulder.

It’s quiet. You’ve parked somewhere secluded, hidden from prying eyes. With less than four hours before certain death, you get nostalgic for how far you’ve come since your time at Karasuno.

“Thank you,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’m glad you were such a smarmy bastard in high school.” He chuckles, the sound a pleasant rumble that singlehandedly warms you from the inside out.

“I’m glad you liked to think you could top my scores,” he replies.

(It had taken you two years to finally, finally beat his exam scores. Having no reason to talk to Tsukishima after that, you disappeared from each other’s lives. It had taken you a month to piece together the reason you felt so strangely empty without his signature smirk to rile you up.

“You like me,” you’d said, sitting backwards in the desk in front of him as he ate lunch. You didn’t phrase it as a question; why would you, when you knew the answer?

“You got what you wanted already, didn’t you? Why are you still here?” You were a thorn in Tsukishima’s side, as he’d repeated time and time again (both in private and to your face). Even still, he had to admit that the past month without you had been...boring. (He also had to endure Yamaguchi’s endless questions about you, drilling your absence into his head even further.)

“Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to be honest?”

“Just spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

“Unfortunately,” you’d prefaced this with a long-suffering sigh, “I feel the same way. You might be an emotionally constipated asshole, but what I’m saying is…” Your fingers drummed on his desk, invading his space. “Let’s go on a date.”

Shaking himself from his stunned silence, he’d replied, “Sure.” In the moment, it had sounded nonchalant, but you had a feeling his hands were getting clammy.

Truth be told, you had it on good authority (Yamaguchi, who’d gotten sick and tired of bearing witness to almost three years of you two dancing around your feelings) that he felt the same you did. It was Yamaguchi’s words that gave you the confidence to confront Tsukishima at all.

“I’ll see you on Saturday, then. This better not be boring, Tsukishima,” you teased, snatching his chopsticks to steal a bit of his meal. “After all, you’re with me now. If you’re going to take me out, it better be in style.”

You had the audacity to throw a wink at him before walking back to your classroom. You get an eye roll in response, but take great pleasure in the way he had gone red to the tips of his ears, knowing that you’ve won.)

9:31 PM | 2:29:20

“I love you.”

“I know.” Silence. “I love you too.”

“I know.”

11:59 PM | 0:00:59

It’s bright, like a fallen star, all white-hot and angry. You think it’s beautiful in its own way, gawk at it with your mouth hanging open. “Here it is,” he whispers, squeezing your hand so tight it almost hurts. “The end.”

You cup his cheek, turn his head to look at you. You try to steel yourself. Inhale. Exhale. (Your breath comes out shaky, but neither of you acknowledge it.) “I guess this is goodbye.” You were supposed to sound strong, but your voice comes out small, weak, broken.

And for once, he is the first to cry.

“Not yet.” His voice cracks. “It’s not goodbye yet.” He wipes your tears (when did you start crying?) away, touch so fragile you think he’s sure you’d shatter. Maybe you will.

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye,” you offer. It’s hollow; neither of you have been under the delusion that this was anything but. “It can be a see you later.”

Tsukishima just shakes his head, wearing a broken smile of his own. And then he’s kissing you with such fervor that you swear you’ve never been kissed before, not like this. The way he sucks your bottom lip between his, pulls you flush against him, makes you dizzy. This is my goodbye, he says with more than words. 

11:59 PM | 0:00:01

Your relationship has always required mastery of reading between the lines, peering through the hairline cracks in words and actions for their true meaning.

But now, both of you are straightforward as can be, stripped down to your bare selves. The meteor sets fire to the inhibitions and walls both of you created, and the flames lick at your skin as your tears—or his—dampen your cheeks.

If you’re going to take me out, do it in style, you’d said to him, once.

So he does.

[secret-engima]

Okay! Since it ate it- I was considering what Skull's 'Element Set' in FiF verse would do/react like if/when Skull gets herself hurt/taken down in some way bc thats how my brain works and I NEED TO KNOW PLEASE- And then I thought to myself since these elements grow up in/are saturated in LC magic of Skull's would they react like a raging Element set? AND THEN I though about how skull can GIVE her magic to others, and since her magic was sentient-ish and it KNEW what the other flames were and (1)

wolfsrainrules said: (2) they were supposed to do, would the LC magic they got TRY to mimic what it could of that particular flame type?

Me: OKAY *cracks knuckles* let’s DO THIS.

-They totally react more and more like an Element set as they spend time around Regina. ESPECIALLY after she starts giving them her magic (which of course she does, she loves them and wants to protect them). It starts off small though.

-For Clarus, it’s ... well. His temper. He’s a fairly laid back man, but around idiots, or liars, or the pompous or-

-Okay maybe he isn’t so laid back. But he’s good at hiding it at least. Unless he’s sparring. Oh boy, do not spar with this boy when he’s in a bad mood. Anything that isn’t an armiger-stashed blade starts to straight up BREAK in his hands, shatter into a hundred or more pieces dust like pieces (not just wooden practice swords either, but REAL ONES too). He stops being able to get drunk almost before he is old enough to understand the wonders of getting drunk, and when the flu strikes his household he’s unaffected. It takes a long time for someone to comment (or Clarus to notice) that he hasn’t been sick, really truly sick, since he was about ten. He ... tries not to be alarmed, because it’s not like never getting sick is a bad thing, and not being able to get drunk no matter how much he drinks can be useful. But it’s still unnerving and he definitely blames Regina for it.

-Weskham notices faster, probably because he’s older when Regina gives him her magic and Claims him. Also because this boy was raised on legends and fables and old stories, his grandmother was one of the most superstitious people alive and so honestly there’s a part of Weskham that’s been WAITING for the weird things to happen since he started serving the royal family directly.

-It’s not the enhanced vision or bloodlust or such like from the stories though. If anything he’s like- a siren of some kind. When he talks, people CALM DOWN. When he asks for their attention they give it. Eventually he can put his baby cousins to sleep with just a few words, and when he makes food or tea with the intent of making people happy or calm- that’s what they become when eating it. Happy. Calm. Clarus is the only one who is never at risk of passing out in the middle of eating Weskham’s soup and this makes him ... curious. And vaguely unnerved with his own newfound abilities. But it also makes it so much easier to help Regina, to keep her stable after another frustrating day dealing with nobles or her father, so Weskham never brings it up.

-He also never brings up that his once sharp temper tends to be far more icily composed and long-lasting than short and hot like it once was.

-Cid DEFINITELY notices the changes that happen when he gets magic. Because he’s 41 and raised his kid and he likes to believe he knows himself. Then Regina Claims him and gives him magic and suddenly his already stubborn disposition goes THROUGH THE ROOF. So do his energy levels, and that pesky ache in his back from one too many heavy car parts is just- straight up gone. He finds he CAN hike all day with the idiot teenagers and not hurt like blazes and while, yeah, that’s nice and all, it’s not NATURAL and Cid DOESN’T LIKE IT.

-Cid confronts Regina about it, is flabbergasted by how quiet and fragile she gets as she softly asks if he wants her to take away the magic. The confident, almost insanely determined girl suddenly looks like one wrong move will crack her open and Cid doesn’t need Clarus’s death glare and Weskham’s frosty knife-sharpening to know the right answer is “no, don’t take it, just tell me what Ah’ve gotten myself into”.

-Cor is a bby Cloud. Being given magic by a much older, much scarier Cloud. I’m pretty sure I DON’T need to lay out what happens. But basically think energizer bunny mixed with Murder Child. Cor has never felt so alive, so strong and sure and fast and sharp and he LOVES IT.

-Except for the days when he doesn’t. When the world is too bright-loud-strong-smelling and he huddles in the tent being miserable, skin itching from the feel of the ground and his clothes like his senses are all supercharged to max in all the wrong ways. Regina sits with him on those days, and somehow that makes it a bit better, but still.

-Going to leave the others for now because I’m not sure how Regina’s magic effects them yet (though Titus being able to make copies of himself amuses me) so ON TO RAGE.

-The first time Regina goes down and goes down HARD on their quest, these guys basically level the nearby landscape. Clarus’s sword glows a distinctly red color and there is NOTHING he cannot cut as he tears apart whatever touched his Queen. Cid is moving like he’s twenty years younger, and his movements have an extra kick to them that make his spear puncture armor like tissue paper. Weskham is standing over his queen, sharp-eyed and cold and anything that gets too close finds itself freezing in place just long enough for Weskham to put a bullet through its eyes.

-Cor doesn’t stop screaming until he’s covered head to toe in gore and the battlefield is totally silent save for his companions, eyes burning purple just like Regina’s do as his hands clench his sword-hilt too tight and his teeth look a hair too sharp when he snarls.

Gonna have to come back sometime and put in Sylva’s and Titus’s reactions/rage but for now- there we go!

[artificialqueens]

Amoretto - Chapter 5 - (Branjie) - dreamyunicorngirl

A/N I’ve been told this is a nice chapter of a not-so-pointless fanfic. Thanks Mags for being an amazing beta and friend :) Enjoy!

“You shouldn’t be here.”

An ice cold shiver graces each unclothed inch of skin as each word drips down her naked soul. Her heart touched by every syllable, as the voice keeps her fleshy organ tight in its grasp.  A whisper surfaces at the back of her mind - a much younger voice, clear as the day she first heard her - You shouldn’t be here, Brooke.

Brooke’s breathing picks up its pace as a sharp tremor erupts through her hands. It couldn’t be?

In a daring pirouette the blonde woman turns around to face her fear, eyes flickering across the hall, frantically searching for the source. Faded memories press play on the movie in her mind - one that Brooke hastily closes her eyes from, too painful to relive. Neurons firing as her heart pulses each blood-cell through her shaken up figure, preparing for a long awaited reunion.

Yet all she can find is hollow emptiness.

————————

A flickering street light, seemingly about to give up on life, is the last source of light illuminating the scene.

Heavy, dirty wings drag across the wet pavement, head hung low, as the pain pelts against cobblestones. A dripping being looking up to the brightly lit window in the apartment building, a barely present smile creeps onto her lips - of course Vanessa is the only person awake at this ungodly hour.

As Brooke takes one step forward, the front door creaks open in a swift motion, letting the stranger enter. Feet barely gracing the wooden floor as her large wings carry the woman towards the 6th floor. Tenants sleeping safe and sound behind each closed door, unaware of the intruder in their home.

The blonde shifts from one leg to the other, staring at the dark green door in question. The gold digits indicating Vanessa’s apartment number double in her vision. Her red painted bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she slowly lifts her hand to knock - letting Vanessa decide over her presence for once.

After two loud knocks against the wooden floor, she lets her pale hand drop by her side, holding her breath - waiting. Minutes pass and Brooke’s mood begins to fall to an all time low again. Struggling to accept the fact that the Latina doesn’t wanna see her tonight. Yet the moment the blonde is about to turn around, the door opposite her creaks open, exposing a fragile woman hiding behind its frame. Blotchy red eyes and a runny nose stare back at her.

Brooke’s stomach drops the moment she sees the state Vanessa is in. Her thoughts swirl around, attempting to untangle an infinite number of questions. The Latina simply takes a step back, silently inviting the strange creature into her home. As Brooke follows the brunette to her bedroom, she gets a glimpse of the apartment. Plates shattered on the kitchen floor, broken picture frames littering the hallway, and an empty wine bottle standing next to the bathroom door. She had seen this case multiple times already, always asked to gift the woman with another heartbreak. Venus never giving the girl a well deserved break.

But not today, she reminds herself, today she is here on her own accord.

As the two woman reach the bedroom, the brunette just flops onto her bed like a sad sardine as the blonde hovers in the middle of the room, carefully studying her counterpart. Her large wings erupt into a fast flutter, a nervous tingle spreading through her limbs as she struggles with her own presence. Usually she would just draw her bow, let Venus’s hard to swallow truth speak for itself, and disappear again. But she isn’t here on Venus’s command. She isn’t here on anybody’s order - she came, because, well, why did she come? I guess, because i wanted to, Brooke admits to herself.

And it scares her. Scares her so much that she doesn’t want to waste another second questioning her behaviour. So all she can do now is focus on Vanessa, and for once deal with the mess she made.

As Vanessa rises from her laying position to a slumped creature and furiously rubs her itching eyes, Brooke joins her side. Her body slightly rests on the edge of the bed as she silently watches the brunette struggle to regain her cool.

“Vanessa.” The word barely make it past her lips, so soft that it is a surprise that Vanessa actually catches it. Droopy puppy eyes stare into an emotionless face keeping her fixated on the spot.

“Do you,” Brooke starts, not knowing what to say. “Can i help you?”

Vanessa silently shakes her head, grabbing an additional blanket from a pile of clothes on the floor and wraps herself in it, fulfilling her urgent need to be a burrito.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Brooke doesn’t get why talking should help, but she’s seen Vanessa’s friends ask her the same thing after each past heartbreak. She had kept an eye on her, just to be sure.

Vanessa shrugs her shoulders, and starts picking at the nailpolish on her thumb.

Brooke watches her, slightly worried at the woman’s lack of babbling.

“I can’t believe it. Vanessa Mateo, dead silent for once in her life,” Brooke whispers more to herself as she slowly shakes her head, an emotion unknown to her - compassion - leaking out of her ocean eyes.

“So what, and since when do you know my last name?” The voice not resembling her usual feisty demeanor.

“It’s written on your doorbell,” the blonde replies calmly, eliciting a light chuckle from Vanessa. Brooke smiles at her in return, inching a bit closer as she lets the silence wash over them. Trying really hard not to question why all of a sudden she cares enough to be there for her.

“He said I am too loud,” the brunette breaks the silence after staring at the wall for a while. Her voice still barely louder than a whisper, starting to shake at the last syllable.

“Wait, what - who?” Deep furrows appear between Brooke’s perfectly shaped brows.

“The guy from Tinder.” Her bottom lip is being pulled between her teeth as she watches Brooke’s reaction through teary eyed.

Brooke stares at her with utter confusion written on her face - not really sure who or what Tinder is.

“We went on a date tonight and he…” The brunette sniffles a bit as she tries to recap the day. Usually she prefers keeping the memory at the back of her mind until she pulls it back out to taunt herself, yet today she isn’t alone. She also isn’t with somebody who knows what a silent Vanessa means, and therefore needs to be given some context to her state.

“He jus’ gone listing all the flaws he found in the few hours we spend together. Felt like a fucking psycho on display. And then he just left without even fucking paying.” Vanessa takes a deep breath, trying to keep the tears from spilling again. “Meanwhile my ass was enjoying the evening.”

“I am so sorry,” Brooke Lynn whispered, not knowing what else to add.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Well it is…” Brooke admits while letting the bow she has been carrying for the past hour drop to the floor, suddenly not able to bare its weight. She takes a deep breath in preparation for what she is about to do. Within a swift motion she invades the other woman’s personal space for the first time, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she wraps an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder.

Breath hitches in her throat as Vanesa side eyes the blonde, resisting the urge to give a snarky comment for once, before giving in and letting her head drop onto her boney shoulder. Seconds pass before she dares to snake her arm around her waist as well.

“I’ve seen you humans do that a lot - am I doing it right?” Brooke whispers into the brunette’s hair, secretly enjoying the closeness of the other woman

Vanessa only sighs deeply and lets her entire body fall into Cupid’s embrace.

It feels like the two women spend an eternity wrapped up in each other arms, peace flooding their minds, giving their spirits time to rest. But Vanessa isn’t someone who can sit still for a long time, so it is no surprise that she starts twirling one of Cupid’s arrows between her fingertips. Her mind drifting of to the stories her mamá had told her about the three angelic goddesses send from the heaven above to bring mankind the love they deserved.

“I just, I - I don’t know, Mary, but I just wanna be happy with someone for once.”

“I know and I wish I could help you with that, but - but it seems like I am the one cursing you on repeat,” Brooke draws back from the embrace, looking down onto her own hands. Hands that have brought so much misery into this world.

“You know, my mamá once told me a story about three sisters, the daughters of Venus, each a different embodi-, emdobimen-, each of them representing a different kind of love.”

Brooke stares at Vanessa like she had just witnessed the death of her own mother, the muscles in her body tensing up all of a sudden, her face becoming even paler than it already was.

“Maybe that’s just some made up bullshit mothers tell their little daughter, but maybe - maybe, it’s a tale about you and your sisters. And maybe, just maybe, you are the one bringing unrequited love to people.” All of a sudden, Vanessa seems very confident in her assumption. ‘Cause what else could it truly be?

Another deep moment of silence rolls over them. Vanessa worries that she has said too much. The woman next to her still hasn’t shown any reaction - slowly starting to resemble a greek statue more than a living being.

“If that’s true, maybe you could hit up one of your sisters for me - you know,” Vanessa tries to cut the heavy tension with her usual joking manner, even adding a wink for good measure.

“I need to go.”

Life is breathed back into her motionless body.

“I didn’t mean right now, Mary,” Vanessa adds in a jokingly manner, hoping that will Brooke will keep her company.

“Goodbye, Vanessa,” Brooke says in a emotionless voice before she gets up to leave without saying another word - or even looking back. Leaving a still very heartbroken, maybe even more heartbroken now, Vanessa behind.

[leonvld]

a playlist of songs representing ryu jiwon and his love for music + his career so far

8 songs, 29 minutes

01 geyser by mitski

you're my number one you're the one i want and i've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come 'cause you're the one i got you're the one i got so i'll keep turning down the hands that beckon me to come

otp: jiwon x debut ? is living and thriving. mitski wrote this song about her own relationship to music, and has said how she can tell when listening to other artists' songs, who “doesn’t have any other options in their life," and who “could do something else for a living.” according to her, people who don’t have other options have a desperation in their music, and i feel like you could find the same kind of desperation in jiwon's. in his bio, i've mentioned how he feels like he is a trainee first and everything else ( brother, son, friend, lover, etc ) second, and i feel like that applies to him being an artist as well. when you think about how an 11-year-old jiwon was turned down at auditions and told that he just didn't want it enough — it hits different.

02 on the radio by regina spektor 

no, this is how it works you peer inside yourself you take the things you like and try to love the things you took and then you take that love you made and stick it into some someone else's heart pumping someone else's blood and walking arm in arm you hope it don't get harmed but even if it does you'll just do it all again

when jiwon writes music, he bares his soul to the listener. his music is really personal to him, and for a long time, it was like his diary. especially when he was a younger trainee, him sharing his music with you meant that he really trusted you. this song also has this air of wisdom and nostalgia to it, and you're convinced when you listen to it that regina spektor has personally witnessed and experienced all the things she's singing about. experience is the one thing jiwon has in spades, especially as one of the oldest ( at the time of writing this ) 4am member. like when asked why he deserved to pass his atlas records audition over the other boys in his audition group, jiwon said that it was because he had "more to say" and in a way he does, not only from being in the industry for so long but also just because he's just lived that much longer. ( and then when he becomes a trainee, he acts all [ insert surprised pikachu meme ] when he realizes that other trainees don't like him as much as they used to, when they've heard him essentially say that their opinions are white noise oops. )

03 dress up in you by belle & sebastian

ack i had a hard time choosing an excerpt for this one since it’s --- more like the essence of this entire song ? jiwon has a reputation for being… a really nice guy. he's a reliable hyung/oppa to look up to, rely on, and go to for advice, and in his 14th year in the industry, his reputation definitely precedes him. he's not usually the type to lose his temper or visibly show anger unless you're someone he's close to… but he's also been in the industry long enough for things to piss him off. everything from how the industry preys about the dreams of children and then uses those dreams to degrade and manipulate them for profit, to people who think they can get away with using him for his generosity, to idols who debut who (in his eyes) don't deserve fame at all, to talented friends who had to drop out of the industry due to politics, to the people he trusted who’ve dropped him like dead weight in order to get ahead. he's one of those people where people are surprised when he gets angry, and there's something about this song where you don't really realize that the singer is upset until you pay attention to the lyrics.

04 graveyard ( acoustic ver. ) by halsey 

they say i may be making a mistake i would've followed all the way, no matter how far i know when you go down all your darkest roads i would've followed all the way to the graveyard

yet another song about how much he wants to pursue music (and debut NGNSJAK), but this time in the actual form of a love song because subtlety 👌. i feel like when everest (the first group he was a part of) disbanded in 2013, there were a lot of people in his life who truly cared about him that breathed a sigh of relief. they thought that disbandment meant that he could move on and find another passion. but jiwon — loves music and loves to perform and for all its faults, mirae sound (the first entertainment company he was under) was where he first fell in love with it all. he has conflicted feelings about his original company because it's also where he was verbally degraded and treated awfully by certain staff members, but they gave him a stage and a mic for however short of a timespan it was and he's been trying to return to it ever since. but this time, he's not a naive 11 year old trying to make his parents happy. he's fully aware of the cold, harsh industry he's returning to.

05 i couldn’t be more in love by the 1975

we got it wrong, and you said you had enough but what about these feelings i've got? i couldn't be more in love

which brings us to everest's disbandment — the lowest point of his life. matt healy (the frontman of the 1975) wrote this song about his fans and his fear that a day will come where they will tire of his music and leave him. jiwon trained with some of everest's members for almost six years, and then the group disbanded after only two. having been the leader of said group, it left jiwon in a really fragile place. picking up the pieces again and deciding to audition again — when he still had debt from his first trainee period and his self-esteem was at an all time low after leading a group to disbandment — was probably one of the hardest decisions of his life. i have a headcanon that he originally went back to seoul to apply for jobs as a music composer for other artists — and at the last minute he ended up auditioning to be a trainee again instead.

06 4 o’clock by bts’ v & rm

i collect myself that's shattered beneath the moonlight i call you moonchild we are the children of the moon

wow. the title says it all JAFKLDG. but really --- he loves his 4am members so much. so dearly. tenderly. this song just makes me think of the boys staying up in their dorm late at night, practicing, writing music, and just being there for each other. jiwon is a lot stronger now than he used to be and it's all due to his members. i've talked about this in the ooc chat, but being with 4am is the first time jiwon's felt free in such a long time. after spending a lifetime of being there for others and doing what others want/expect of him, he can trust his members to be there for him in a way that he's never felt comfortable to do with anyone else in his past.

07 btstu by jai paul

i know i've been gone a long time, but i'm back and i want what is mine

don't fuck with him, don't fuck with him !!! it might have been 7 years since everest's disbandment but he's coming back ! and when he does, you'll all be sorry !! also, similarly to "dress up in you", another subliminally passive aggressive track GJSJAKA. his self worth and confidence — is at an all time high in the years since he joined atlas and was added to the lineup of the ceo's “favorite” trainee group. he's not arrogant, but he carries himself differently now. he has less fear and is willing to take more risks. maybe he’s a little arrogant. who knows.

08 come hang out by ajr

and come hang out don't you leave us behind but i'll be there next time i'll be there next time

listen, all of his relationships that have ended (romantic and platonic) are clearly not just his fault. but he really doesn't --- fight for his relationships as much as he fights for his music. there are more than a few important relationships that have taken a backseat to his pursuit of his dreams. like i said for the first track,, he's a trainee and an artist over anything else. music is his #1 priority. while it's led him to have an impressive work ethic and an enviable passion for his craft, his relationships with his parents, his sister, former friends, and ex-lovers have all suffered because of it. his obsession for his music at the expense of those he loves is definitely one of the, if not the, biggest of his flaws. this song also speaks to how jiwon feels being as close as he is to debut. with only months left before 4am is scheduled to debut, he's working harder than ever. but he's fully aware that he's not racing towards the finish line — he's getting in position to start the race. and this time, he's going to do everything he can to make it last.

[rubecso]

The Insomniacs

I wrote this short story for my fiction writing module at university. Now it’s done and submitted I’d love to hear what people think of it. It was inspired by the real (and surreal) experience I had of being awake in the early hours in a Dusseldorf hotel.

Words: 2178

The Insomniacs

The hotel was like a museum with bedrooms. Every hallway was lined with paintings of misty, continental landscapes or old nobility with jutting chins. Glass display cabinets or sculptures with missing arms or noses lurked in every corner. Thomas’ flight from London to Dusseldorf had been one of the earlier ones, so he’d sat in the lobby and watched a succession of aunts, uncles and cousins gasp in delight as they arrived, before remembering the occasion and reverting to suitably sombre expressions.

He could see why Christoph had picked this place. It was a marvel, in the day at least.

At 4am, it had a different feel. Most places did, in his experience. The succession of dead aristocrats judged him as he passed. The rolling hills and Alpine forests gained a third dimension and beckoned him to fall into them. The sculptures were somehow both more human and less so.

He wandered down to the lobby, the marble tiles cold beneath his socks. Near the entrance was a semi-circle of peculiar chairs. They were red velvet with carved, wooden ornamentations (Baroque or maybe Rococo, he wasn’t sure). Yet they had a strangely modern shape, like something in a university common room. The backrest curved at the sides and overheard, so when he sat down it enveloped him.

He was so blinkered that he didn’t notice the man sitting in the chair next to him until he spoke:

‘Finden Sie auch keinen Schlaf?’

Thomas was startled. He was used to the world being empty at 4am. He looked round to see a pair of dark eyes looking expectantly at him from a wrinkled face.

He blinked, brain digesting the words. He was fairly sure the old man had asked him if he couldn’t sleep.

‘Oh, er, jah,’ he stumbled over the unpractised language, ‘ich bin… um, ich habe…’

He stopped and sighed.

‘Sorry. My German isn’t so good tonight.’

The lines around the old man’s eyes deepened as he smiled kindly.

‘English? English is fine.’

‘Thanks.’ Thomas wore the apologetic smile of the uncomfortably British. ‘I was trying to say I have insomnia.’ He paused, watching for confusion in the old man’s face. ‘You understand?’

He nodded. Then he gestured to himself.

‘Me also.’ He leaned forward in his chair and whispered conspiratorially: ‘I have not slept in three thousand years.’

Thomas chuckled, but the old man did not (he supposed something had been lost in translation). He searched for something to say, but the man got there first:

‘This is your first time here?’

‘The hotel? Yes. My grandfather stayed here, though.’

‘When?’

‘Oh, years back.’

‘Perhaps I met him.’

‘Do you come here a lot?’

He smiled, as if at some joke Thomas had not heard.

‘This is my hotel.’

‘Oh.’ Thomas gestured to their general surroundings. ‘And the artwork — it’s all yours?’

Another nod.

‘Wow.’ He would never have taken this simply-dressed man for a multimillionaire art collector. ‘It’s an amazing collection. Really it is.’

A spark lit in the owner’s deep, dark eyes. ‘You think so?’

‘Well,’ he gestured inarticulately, ‘of course.’

The old man stood up with surprising speed.

‘Let me show you around.’

***

As listened to the hotel owner speak about each of the artworks, Thomas felt like he should be taking notes. The old man spoke instructively. His accent was hard to place; close to German but with a melodic quality that sounded almost Italian. Thomas wondered if he was Swiss.

He seemed to know the provenance of every piece by heart; this was painted by Herr so-and-so, that was sculpted in such-and-such a century. For all Thomas knew about art history he could have been making it up as he went along, but he spoke with such authority that Thomas found it easier to believe he simply had it memorised. But more than these facts, he was full of odd little details about each piece, especially the portraits.

‘The Countess von Schrattenberg,’ he said at one point, pointing to an oil painting of a middle aged woman in an embroidered bodice with tightly curled, powdered hair and a pair of piercing, green eyes, ‘A very intelligent woman.’

He appeared to expect Thomas to reply.

‘You think so?’ he ventured.

‘I know so.’

Before Thomas could ask him to elaborate, he’d set off again. He walked briskly, hands clasped behind his back, a little bent but not overly so. He was certainly an old man, but not a frail one (or at least it seemed that way).

They carried on like this, Thomas following him up and down the hallways of the hotel and trying to take in the steady flow of facts and anecdotes. After a while, he decided the way the old man spoke about the artists and their subjects must simply be an eccentricity, or perhaps another joke that didn’t translate well. Or maybe Thomas was just too tired to get it.

One of the display cabinets stood out to Thomas. Its contents were a jumble of mismatched artefacts: fragments of pottery; metal objects twisted and bubbled with rust; some kind of carved, bone figurine; and a small, glass bottle. The bottle caught Thomas’ eye. It was green and cloudy, with a delicate handle. When he asked about it, the owner told him it dated back to Roman times. He fished out a set of keys and opened the cabinet to let him hold it. Thomas asked him if he was sure, having visions of it slipping through his fingers and shattering on the marble floor, but the owner insisted.

As Thomas turned the fragile flask over in his hands, the old man explained that it had been pulled out of the Rhine, along with everything else in the display cabinet.

‘The Romans had a fort here,’ he explained, ‘They brought in perfumes or oil in bottles like this, to trade with us Germans.’

(He meant the Germanic tribes, presumably.)

They got to talking about how long people had lived on this spot by the Rhine, how there were parts of the city where you could see the old town, and how before the town it was a village that grew up around the Roman fort, and how before that people settled along the river and lived off fish.

‘Ah,’ the old man sighed, ‘but you go back further than that, it becomes hard to remember.’

‘Hard to know, you mean?’ Thomas asked, ‘Because there aren’t written records?’

The owner regarded him silently for a few moments. Thomas wondered if he’d asked a stupid question or if it had been rude to try and correct him.

Then he shrugged. ‘Yes, perhaps.’ A thought appeared to strike him. ‘Have you walked by the river?’

‘No.’

‘You should.’

‘I might not get time.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well I’m busy tomorrow and then after that I’m leaving.’

‘Ah,’ said the old man, ‘What are you busy with?”’

‘I, er,’ Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at his socks, ‘I’ll be at a funeral. For my granddad, Christoph — the one who stayed here? It’s actually why we’re here. It was one of his requests.’

He glanced up at the owner, worried he was over-sharing. The look on the old man’s face was hard to read.

‘You were lucky,’ he replied.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘To get the rooms, on such short notice. Most of our guests book months in advance.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Thomas opened his mouth to say something more, but instead it widened into a yawn.

The old man smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

‘You should try to sleep, I think.’

***

The next night, when he heard the old man speak from the chair beside him, Thomas wasn’t surprised. Somehow he’d known he’d be waiting for him.

He’d tried to sleep. He’d been sure he would the moment he put his head down. He’d struggled to keep his eyes open all through the funeral service and the meal afterwards. Yet despite the exhaustion seeping into his limbs (nothing like insomnia to teach you the meaning of ‘bone-tired’), he still couldn’t sleep. So he let his feet carry him down to the lobby again, the marble floor somehow less solid than before. When he passed the portrait of the green-eyed Countess, he was sure he saw her move out the corner of his eye. When he sat down in the peculiar chair again, he felt like it had swallowed him whole.

Then the voice came again:

‘Did you get time to walk by the river?’

‘No. Sorry.’ He wasn’t sure why he apologised.

‘Perhaps next time.’

They lapsed into silence, deeper and heavier for the thick, velvet upholstery surrounding Thomas on all sides, muffling even the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the lobby. Perhaps the hotel owner was comfortable with quiet, but Thomas found himself grasping for something to say. He came upon something he’d almost said last night, and once it was in his mind it was the only thing he could think of. Finally it bubbled up through his lips:

‘We did book in advance. We knew when Christoph was going to die. He did it in Switzerland. Assisted suicide.’

He turned to look at the old man, expecting him to have shrunk back in surprise or disgust. But instead he had leaned in, his dark eyes gleaming and fixed on Thomas as if he were one of the artworks on the walls.

‘Tell me more about this.’

Thomas didn’t know if it was the calm confidence of the old man’s voice, or if sleep deprivation had stripped him of the usual restrictions he put on his speech, or if it was just that for the whole day no one in his family had brought it up, even though they all knew. He didn’t know why he wanted to tell this stranger about his grandfather, but he did. He told him how intelligent he’d been, how even when Thomas was a child he’d wanted to be smart like him. How he’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. How even before he’d lost his speech or his ability to dress himself, he’d planned his death in advance. How certain he’d been that he didn’t want to keep going once his memories began to leave him, how he wanted to die while he was still himself…

‘Still himself?’ the hotel owner cut in, ‘What does this mean?’

Thomas blinked; he’d almost forgotten he was talking to another person.

‘While he still had most of his memories.’

‘Ah, so.’ The old man nodded. His eyes were drifting, seeming to search for something Thomas couldn’t see. ‘This is what makes us who we are? Memories. Ah, but I did not know a person could…’ He trailed off, then gestured to Thomas. ‘Please go on.’

So Thomas told him about the clinic in Switzerland, that strange country between other countries where people went to die. He told him about the garden by the clinic, where he and his mother had walked with Christoph in his wheelchair. How it had seemed like he might change his mind at the last minute, but then he’d just stopped and said ‘Now then’, and that was it. How when he went, it was like he’d just fallen asleep.

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

They were quiet again then, and this time Thomas was comfortable in it. He let the hotel owner break it:

‘I have one more item to show you.’

***

It was the bone figurine from the display case, the one Thomas had overlooked in favour of the Roman flask.

‘What do you think that is?’ the old man asked him as Thomas held it, running his thumb over the carved notches.

‘I don’t know.’

He waited for the old man to tell him, but instead he sighed.

‘Neither do I.’ He paused, then seemed to make a decision. ‘But I think it should go back to the river.’

Thomas looked up, frowning.

‘But it looks so old. Isn’t it valuable?’

The old man shrugged.

‘Perhaps. But what good is it if no one remembers what it’s for?’ He caught Thomas’ eye. ‘Even me?’

‘Even…?’ Thomas began, but then the owner reached out and grabbed his arm.

‘Will you do that for me? Give it back to the Rhine?’

‘I don’t…’

‘Please?’ His grip tightened. His dark eyes burned.

Thomas swallowed. Then he nodded.

***

Later, after Thomas returned to the hotel and found the owner was nowhere to be seen, he slept deeply. In his dreams he was by the Rhine again, but the city was gone. A thick, dark forest took its place, thinning out at the marshy ground by the river. The air smelled ancient.

The old man was sat by the water, dressed in animal pelts. He held a knife of flint and was carving something with it. As Thomas approached, he held it up to the light and smiled with understanding. The small, bone figurine.

He looked up at Thomas.

‘Thank you.’

[joonyverse]

too close. - Suho (EXO) (oneshot)

A/N: this series is totally based on real-life experience. a story that seems cliche? but i can assure you this is really what happened in my life, although i dramatized it more, but hence explained the first person point of view.

Summary: what are we? we are too close for friends, too distant for lover. you are so close yet so far. we both know there’s something between us, but what is it? are you entirely sure that you’re letting her go? or are you slowly coming back... to her?

Genre: angst, fluff, slowburn (kinda)

Warning: bad english, grammar mistakes, some curses here and there, slight trigger warning

Suho x Readers

oneshot

I... I truly don’t know where it first started. Was it during the mid semester examination? Or was it during the first day of new semester? Or was it somewhere along the timeline and I just... didn’t realize? Or was it me on denial?

I don’t even know what even caused it. I don’t know how. I’m the notorious y/n. Focused on my study is all i care about. Lover? I’m passed that.

But somehow. Somehow. That one message from you that evening makes me feel... so important. Makes me feel like I could take on the world. Makes me feel like the feeling of being alive is blooming back inside my heart that has been long filled with emptiness and monochrome memories.

And suddenly that one message from you, it makes my heart beats again. It makes me found a new motivation. A motivation that has long gone, now coming back, all because of you? A feeling that’s been so long since I last felt it, suddenly I’m going through it again? All because of you?

[Suho], 20:20: y/n, i may seem desperate, but can you help me? Pls! 

[y/n], 20:25: sure! What can I help you with?

[Suho], 20:26: for our economy class, can you help me with this thing about distribution? I still can’t get the hang of it somehow

[y/n], 20:27: lmao, can you believe it? The smart great suho! Part of the notorious exo gang! Asking for my help! But sure, sending you the notes! 

[Suho], 20:28: GREAT! THANKS Y/N!!!

Perhaps it’s the way I know how nice you are? Perhaps it’s how I found you adorable at the time? But really, I didn’t mean to fall this deep into it.

There I feel you. Staring at me. I can’t see it for sure, but I can feel your eyes burning into the back of my head. And honestly speaking, I’m beyond nervous to even look back. My brain is somehow more focused into thinking how do I engage a conversation with you, rather than into the test itself.

An idea popped out in my head. Stupid. I truly know the answer to the question, to hell with, I even answered it. But for the sake of engaging a conversation, I turned my head back, into your way. Low key feeling afraid of getting caught.

“Psst, Suho, what’s number 10?” I asked in a whisper. My heart beats fast.

Suddenly, you moved forward, getting closer to me. I swear we’re only inches apart, if it wasn’t for your table between us. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” Suho asked again. It seems like he didn’t hear what I was saying. At that moment I hesitate to continue it, too nervous to do so. But I gathered my courage and ask him the same question again.

“Ah! It’s B” he answered, in a whisper, doesn’t want to make the teacher aware of both of you.

“Thank you!” I said, in a lower whisper, as I turned my head back forward into its original place.

Ever since then, I keep noticing you. Noticing the smell or the scent of you. Noticing the smallest thing about you. It’s fluttering yet annoying. I hate how I let myself getting into this mess.

I knew I don’t have a chance with you to begin with. I’m literally longing for something that’s impossible, and it’s silently killing me. 

“Oh my god- y/n! You’re so in love!” My friends teased. 

I can’t control the blush that painted my cheeks. “Shut up oh my god, I hate you all” I muttered loud enough.

“Oh? Oh? Y/n? Won’t you look who sat at the seat right at the opposite of you?” My friend who sat beside me said as she nudged me.

I look up from my food. Only to found the very man I’ve admiring from afar to sat at the seat behind my friends’, facing me.

I quickly looked down and ate my food again. Too startled to respond to the situation. He was with his friends, looking damn good like the usual.

From time to time, I stole some glances at him. Just for a slight second. His chubby cheeks are just so adorable while he’s eating, and I can’t help but feel the urge to pinch them. Seeing him ate makes me feel full myself. 

Perhaps, my friends are right... I’m perhaps so in love. 

But who am I kidding? Suho is a nice man. Nice to everyone. Despite being friends with such jocks, he knows what he prioritizes. He’s smart. And his look? It’s a bonus point. How can someone not fall for him?

The grieve mistake I made was, stole glance at him at the wrong time. I swear I caught him staring at me. The fact he was staring at me got me off guard. I quickly look at my food and finish it. Brushing the awkward moment away.

It doesn’t help that he and I worked for the same event. We got closer of course! Our relationship gets more playful too. It was the happiest episode in my life, the happiest I’ve ever been in a while.

The littlest moment of ours, I cherished them a lot.

“Suho! I swear to god! If you step on me one more time!” I whisper-shouted at him, trying not to disturb the class. He was sitting beside me. And for some reason, he keeps stepping on my foot, of course in a no harming way, just to let his playful side out.

I see that he didn’t remove his foot from mine. His face calm. He knows I was complaining yet he pretended like he didn’t hear. So I put my other foot on top of his that stepping on me. As soon as I put it down, I realize the mistakes I made. 

His face turned at you, as his other leg being put on top of your other one. “I have two legs, y/n” he said before he stuck out his tongue at you. 

I mentally slapped myself for it.

“I swear to god, Suho let me go!” I said as I struggle to get my legs out of the ‘legs sandwich’ we just made.

“I swear to god, Suho let me go!” He mocked. I can’t help but giggle slightly at his playfulness. To my surprise, he giggled along with me.

Not known to him, my heart beats 12 times faster. I’m loving this moment very much. Perhaps... more than I’m supposed to.

“Y/n, aren’t you afraid?” My friend asked.

My head turned at her. Confused at the question. “Of what?” I asked.

“Liking him, of course” she said casually.

In that moment, I fell into a deep thought. I knew I’m gonna get hurt, just like always. I know where this is going, where its final destination is.

“It’s not that serious, so... not really” I said to her. The lie was so obvious. Even I can detect it. If my friend know, she didn’t say anything. It makes me cringe how I lie through my own teeth. It feels more like I’m convincing myself than her.

“Okay, I just don’t want you to hurting” she said. “Real question though, how could you like him knowing his history?” She asked again.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I know. I know it all. More of the reason why I shouldn’t like him. But what can I do? I can’t control my own feeling sometimes, and it’s suffocating.

I know. I know for a fact that he...

“You know that he loves Anna for years now right?” She said. 

It stabbed me right through the heart. I know, I really do know. That was really uncalled for. It feels like having a lime juice being poured over an open cut.

“Nana, I told you, it’s not that deep, I’ll get over it” I shrugged. Not really in the mood to discuss this any further.

It seems like Nana sensed my discomfort. She stopped asking.

The room was quiet. Every one was focused on their tests that they failed on. It was just me, Suho, and two other friends who managed to pass the test.

We were quietly chatting, not wanting to disturb the silence. 

“You know my love stories never end well” a friend named Jenna said. I quickly high fived her slowly. “Same, me too” I relate to her.

“Suho, aren’t you keep getting rejected by Anna?” Jenna asked.

I slowly cower back. Leaning back onto the back of my seat. The question intrigued me. But I’m just... way too afraid of the answer.

I can hear Suho slowly sighed. My eyes were focused on him. Interested yet afraid at what he had to say.

“She’s really hard to get... So I moved on you know” he said. No matter how much he tried to hide it, I can hear the devastation in his voice. I know how that feels. Believe me, I do.

It makes me feel good and bad at the same time. It’s good that it boosts the little confidence in me to believing that I have a chance. But... it’s also bad, I just feel so bad for... liking someone that isn’t mine from the beginning, someone I have no chance with, someone who... supposedly my own friend’s.

Anna is a good friend of mine. She’s really nice. No matter how much I tried to hate her, I just can’t. She’s just way too nice and way too pretty. If I were Suho, she’d totally be the girl I fight for.

I mean,

Who would fall for a broken hearted fragile souled me? 

Anyone would choose the perfectly sculpted vase instead of the broken shattered into pieces one.

It was tiring. Physically and mentally. Studying and brainstorming took a lot in me. And so there I was, with my friends, hanging out in the cafeteria. Every once in a while, I took a sip of my chocolate milk, while staring into the distance. Not one of us saying anything, enjoying the silence, knowing every each one of us are spent from all of the studies, knowing very well, we only have one mandatory extra class left. Which by the way, is hell.

Suddenly, something caught Nana’s attention. I saw her eyes widened at the sight. Her strangeness caught my attention as well. “What?” I asked, curiosity peaking in.

“He’s here! Suho’s here!” she said, eyes still set on him.

I don’t need to look back. I heard Baekhyun, Suho’s friend, voice booming throughout the cafeteria. His loudness was the one that caught my attention, enough for me to look back.

Honestly speaking, I’m not even in the mood to have Suho in my line of vision. I’m too tired of everything. Tired of my study, tired of my feels. Tired of seeing him, feel my heart blooming, only to shatter at the reminisce that he will never be… mine, or even look my way.

“Oh? He’s not alone?” Nana added.

My curiosity got the best of me. I look back again. Saw him and Baekhyun were sitting with two girls at the opposite seats of them. Seems like they were in deep conversation.

“Lucky for you, they are within my hearing range” Nana said as she winked at me.

I keep looking at Nana expectantly. Hoping for… something. Anything really. God damnit, I don’t even know what exactly I’m hoping for the outcome.

I saw it. I saw the light disappear from her face, how her expression darkened. 

“What?” I asked, trying to keep it casual, like as if I’m expecting nothing. 

Nana turned her head at me. Her eyes seems saying something that I know the meaning of, but won’t accept it. “Seems like he’s getting matchmade” she said.

I sighed. I try not to let it show that it’s slowly killing me inside. That I’m broken. I feel so stupid for being like this. I know what I’m going into, yet I’m still hurt. This feel so unfair.

“I don’t care, I’m too busy” I lied. Well, not really. I really am busy. Being in senior year and have to work on the school’s biggest event as a division chief is not an easy job. To make things worse, I have personal feeling that I hate to admit but getting in the way of my priorities.

I feel my throat tightens. The familiar burning sensation around my eyes. I feel like I’m going to broke down. But, I’m just not one to broke down in front of my eyes.

“y/n?, are you okay?” Nana asked.

I gulped. Knowing fully well I can’t lie at the fact I’m on the verge of tears. I know. I know they see the tears Im holding in. I don’t know which one hurts more anymore, the burn in my eyes, or the burn in my heart.

“I-I’m too stressed out” I excused as I choked on my words. I know I should’ve let them know the truth. To hell with, they probably know the truth, and I’m hella grateful they decided not to act on it.

I quickly packed my bag and get up from my seat. I feel like I’d just lose my cool and sanity if I keep staying there. I can feel Nana following me afterward.

Things getting more and more confusing. I swear I’ve never felt so conflicted in my whole life. And… it’s very suffocating. Because honestly talking, I don’t know who got the answer, even if I do, I don’t have the courage to ask for it.

It’s so confusing. I rather have him be clear of his liking towards other girls, than having me hoping and getting confused by the signs he’s giving.

I can’t even put it into words. I want to say so badly that he might took even the littlest amount of interest in me, but who am I to say? Among Anna and the girl who I heard getting matchmade with him, I could be the silliest and ugliest choice out there.

I keep getting my hopes up only to feel like a over-confident bitch afterward. Only to have my insecurities eating me up alive afterwards.

It was at a meeting. A meeting which suddenly having him and his friends interrupted at. No one minds though, since it’s not a formal or official meeting.

I was busy on my laptop, doing the works for school event, making sure of sponsors and tenants, keeping things in check. When suddenly I felt his presence right in front of me. I looked up from my laptop, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposedly in shift?” I asked him.

Suho chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Oh sweet y/n, give me a break won’t you? It’s hot out there” he said with a pout.

I chuckled and shook my head. “Well, just don’t distract me, I’m busy” I said as I continue to do my work.

Suddenly, his hand grab the screen of my laptop and turn it towards him.

I yelped in surprise. “Suho I swear to god!” I said. “Don’t ruin my work!” I warned.

He looked up at me. Suddenly a dangerous grin appeared on his face. My eyes widened. “Don’t stare at me like that” I said to him.

Slowly, he put his fingers on top of the keyboard. I panicked. My hands reaching out to his. At the same time, his finger click randomly on the keyboard.

“Suho!” I yelled as I retracted his hands from my keyboard.

He laughed. He laughed at me who was in panicked. I can’t help but laughed along with him. 

I stare back at my job, sighing in relief that he didn’t actually ruined anything. I stared back at him. I saw him raising an eyebrow and smile at me. I, of course smile back. No one can’t resist his angelic smile, can they?

Suddenly Chanyeol, another Suho’s friend, come at me, showing me something on his phone. “y/n? Isn’t this Linda’s ex?” he asked as he showed Linda’s ex boyfriend’s instagram page.

Linda is Chanyeol’s girlfriend, who happened to be my friend since elementary school. To put matter worse, her ex was also my… best friend… well at least until something happened.

“Yeah… He used to be my bestfriend” I said. “Why? Anything peek your interest?” I said with a smirk. I stare a bit at Suho and I saw him getting interested at our conversation.

“Well, I don’t think you should worry about him though, you’re way better than him, he’s an asshole” I added.

“Asshole? Why?” Chanyeol asked.

I sighed. I… don’t want to go back into those memories. I don’t mind telling him, it’s just… the memory is just disgusted me.

“He… sexualized me once, of course after he broke up with Linda” I said, in a much quieter voice.

Suho’s eyes shoot up at me. I looked back at him. I saw emotions in his eyes, I can’t exactly pinpoint what it is, but I could have sworn anger was one of them.

“It’s- it’s probably not much, but anyway he said things, sexual things, about me, and it makes me uncomfortable” I said, trying not to worry anyone.

Suddenly Suho got up from his seat. Shouts of curses flying through his mouth. “What the fuck?” he said, keep repeating it. He went out of the room for a moment to cool down with Chanyeol following behind him.

His reaction was really unexpected. What was that? Why did it anger him so much? So many questions popped up in my mind, but before I can dwell on it, Chanyeol and Suho entered the room again. What Chanyeol said next was just… he said it loud enough for me to hear, whether he’s aware or not.

“Suho, now you know how it feels when people you love is being disturbed!” Chanyeol said.

I gulped. What was that supposed to mean?… “Love”?… I really don’t even want to think about it. I quickly dive myself into my work again, not wanting to overthink it.

But I can’t help it. What Chanyeol said keep being replayed, over and over again, in my mind.

It was 8pm. I was all alone in my room. Still with my laptop on. Multitasking, going back and forth between my duty as a student and as a chief of division. The class group chat keep sending notification. As my brain getting more tired, I can’t help but check it out. Apparently a questionnaire about our end of year student trip was posted and everyone was discussing about it.

I checked the choices of place, and can’t help but wonder about it, not knowing which one to choose.

I don’t even know where I got the courage, but I found myself typing a message to Suho, asking him about his choice.

[y/n], 20:05: Did you see the questionnaire?

[y/n], 20:05: What are you gonna choose?

As soon as I pressed send, I quickly regretting my choice. It was stupid. Now he’ll probably see me as desperate. The ring of my phone made me sighed in relief.

[Suho], 20:06: I don’t know

[Suho], 20:06: Jeju probably?

[Suho], 20:06: Which one do you want y/n?

His replies make me excited beyond belief. I can’t help but let the smile making its way into my face.

[y/n], 20:07: Oh, I don’t know

[y/n], 20:07: I never went to either Busan or Jeju

[Suho], 20:07: Really?!

[Suho], 20:08: You know what y/n?

[Suho], 20:08: Let’s just go to your house!

[y/n], 20:08: Oh? You’re right, it’s so comfortable here in my house

[Suho], 20:09: Never mind that, let’s just escape

[Suho], 20:09: To Bali

[Suho], 20:09: Just the two of us

I swear my heart stopped. I really need him to stop playing with my heart like this. My heart stopped yet beating 12 times its normal race at the same time. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as they warmed up.

[y/n], 20:10: Good idea, Let’s go! 

I typed in as I put my phone on the desk and rushing to bed. Can’t handling all of the emotions.

It was the festival of the school event. The peak of the event itself. Every staff were busy. But we found time to rest and enjoy the performances by the singers we invited between the hectic works.

I found myself at the back of the audience area. Leaning to the side of an air conditioner. Feeling spent, but singing along to the song the singers sang. 

I stand up more straightly, fixing my posture. And then I realized Suho was the one who leaned on the front side of the air conditioner. It was so hot, and I need some air to cool with, but I also didn’t want to disturb his little rest, knowing his job is more difficult than mine, more exposed to the bright sun outside.

I carefully reach my hand towards the front of the air conditioner, behind his neck, not wanting to disturb him. When suddenly, he turned his head at me and stares. I stared back, not knowing what to say. My hand continue its journey anyway. 

He looked back ahead. What caught me off guard was he suddenly made a move to nuzzle the hand that was behind him. In shock, I quickly retreat my hand. “What are you doing?” I asked in shock.

He didn’t say anything but closing his eyes and leaning back into the air conditioner. I sighed and attempt to do the thing I was doing again.

And, again.

He snuggled into it. 

My heart. My heart is beating way too fast. This time, I didn’t retreated it back. Perhaps I’m liking this too much, but I didn’t care. If this is the only time he would ever do this, then I’d let him do it as long as he wants.

Finally, after all of the hectic schedule ended, it was time for us in senior years to get ready for the upcoming exams. Even if it means… Going to school during weekends.

It was Saturday. To put matter worse, it was my birthday. I can’t wait to get it over with to be honest, and go into that dinner my family has planned as my birthday coincidentally is two days apart with my parents’ anniversary.

To put matter even worse for my heart, Suho was being put into the same class as me.

I’m just glad Nana was also in the same class at me. 

But it seems like the earth and its fate hate me. Nana was sick that day. Leaving the seat next to me empty. And… now here I found myself seating beside Suho.

Stupid heart, stop beating so fast, he might hear it.

It was fun though. He and I keep making jokes here and there. And honestly? It didn’t help me from moving on from him like I planned to.

It was during math. Where I found him shivering. I stare him up and down. “I thought you bring a jacket?” I asked.

“Yeah, Minseok borrowed it though” he said.

“Tough luck” I said as I laughed lightly.

Suddenly, he grabbed a hold of my hand. My head quickly shoot up. 

“Holy shit, your hand is so warm y/n” he said as he tightened the hold.

My cheeks. I swear they are madly blushing. My heart feels like it’s about to explode. Please stop for the sake of my well being. 

“H-huh? Is it warm?” I asked nervously.

“Yeah! It is! you are so warm!” he said as he suddenly intertwined our hand.

My thoughts are everywhere. I can’t control my emotion anymore. I’m liking, no, I’m loving this beyond everything.

I don’t even know where my confidence come from, but I suddenly found the courage to put my other hand on top of his. “Here, let me warm you up” I said cheekily to him

“You know what? That feels so right” he said as he turned his head at me, and giving me his soft angelic smile.

Dear god, this is just too much for me. I don’t want to fall for him even deeper than I already am.

Months passed.

Season changed.

And so does whatever it is I had with Suho.

I thought we were getting better.

I thought we had something

I thought we were getting closer

But I was wrong

And my earlier insecurities and suspicion keep getting close to right.

Suddenly, slowly but surely, Suho avoided me.

For no reason.

I keep trying to search for an answer. Keep trying to found where it’s all gone wrong. But nothing came up.

Perhaps it’s just me. Perhaps It’s just me and my boring self. Me and my boring desperate self. Perhaps it’s just him getting tired of me.

Each day, I keep seeing him and Anna together. Building a relationship closer than ever.

Each day, I feel like he keeps getting further and further out of my reach.

Each day, I saw them together, laughing and all. I see nothing but pure happiness.

I loathe myself for wanting to be in Anna’s place.

I hate myself for letting myself fall for him so deep, now I don’t know how to get out.

Of course. I should’ve known earlier. 

What he had for me, will never be as strong as what he had for Anna.

What he had for me, was a mere interest, nothing much. It was me who overthink it. It was me who think we had more than what we had.

Who am I kidding? I am nothing compare to her.

And it’s killing me every day that I could never be her no matter how much I try.

I thought, that perhaps I have a chance on owning his heart. But who am I kidding? I’m just a broken hearted fragile souled person with too many flaws.

It’s killing me, that I’m willingly gave him my heart, knowing I’ll just get another jab and stab at the end.

It’’s killing me, that no one, perhaps, will love me, as much and as genuinely as I love the,

It’s killing me, that at the end of the day, I will always be at the hurting end.

[alamanyar]

marti and nico are both soft, we all know that.

this one is for nico though.♡

i want to talk about nico’s softness for once. it has touched me tremendously. while he’s full of energy and ideas, he carries this emotional strength inside of him that i find inspiring.

there are  characters i love and admire for their badassness, for their   confidence, and for their determination. and when i see softness under   all these attributes, you can bet your ass that i won’t shut up about   it. especially, when softness is ultimately the prominent attribute a character is made of. sometimes i think softness is underrated, when in  reality, it’s one of the most badass attributes in the world (in my humble opinion).

it starts right from the beginning. first look at  nico and he just stands there talking to some guy outside of school and then greeting sana. sure, we see him from afar through marti's eyes,  but he looks like the softest bean, ever smiling while talking. nico has the most genuine smile. that’s how we meet him.

his first words to marti though? “why did you stop?” and that look.  you can see he’s flustered, because he’s talking to this boy he already is so keen on!! (my headcanon is that he didn’t stare back at marti outside of school (i guess he didn’t see him. who knows) nor during the   radio meeting, cause nico wears his heart on his sleeve, alright? just   re-watch niccolò [for instance]. marti is oblivious sometimes).  anyway. during the whole talk he’s happy, so soft, like he’s begging  for attention in the most adorable way: being cute with the boy who got his  attention immediately. and then they talk on the terrace where he  hopes they can be alone for a while and they are, and nico asks  questions, carefully checks out marti. he glances at marti every now  and then even when emma arrives and he’s all flustered again when they  sit in silence, the three of them. head down, head up *look* *blushes*  head down again. touching his hands nervously, tapping his feet to an  imaginary beat.

when he sees marti on the bus, he stands up at once. ‘wahh, there’s this cute boy again i can’t stop thinking about. quick, talk to him. be suave.’ and he is, but he’s also shy. alas.

of course he’ll help out marti and “lend” him some weed.

he  draws skulls, but also giraffes and i see softness there, too. he crafts his own things. little experiments. he has brushes and drawing utensils all over his room. there's an ukulele on his shelf. and just outside of his room, there's a piano waiting for him. i imagine him playing the softest tunes (some celtic music?) even when he's upset. maybe. but what stands out is that he’s artsy. his room looks soft, too.  light yellow curtains, pastel-ish walls and wooden furniture.

he  cooks carbonara for them and it’s a disaster, but hey, he’s already so soft for   marti, he’s gotta try, alright? and when he tells marti he put honey in the pasta while he was on his phone... well, even though he's obviously  jealous here, he's soft. his little shake of the head? a puppy who was  denied attention.

he’s soft when he touches his lip after he gives the headphones back. hey babe, seems like the guys don’t know what’s up. it’s okay. i���m saving your ass with a white lie, no biggie. call me maybe?

during  sylvia’s party he’s hurting on the couch when marti and emma leave to  dance. re-watch the scene and look how soft he still is while hurting!!  nervously playing with his fingers again, looking defeated. it hurts  me. because after he lashed out (at emma and said some dumb stuff to marti), he tries to gather himself on the couch. he’s introverted, but he tries, okay!!

the infamous pinky touch, yeah. of course. he gazes at marti softly after his joke while marti starts gazing at the night sky. and then he extends his pinky. his ringfinger trembles. have   mercy. and when marti looks at him, nico looks at their hands, as if to  say: this is real, alright? i’m gonna make a move right now, you   can’t stop me. but i’m also asking for permission with this gesture, okay??? he wears an earnest look on his face when he moves in. marti smiles and then, nico smiles, too. soft boyfriends in the making.

“why not? we can go together if you want?” (...) “okAy?“ “okay.” “OKAY!!”

well,  during the talk with the girls on halloween, nico is moping. softly. he’s also hurting after maddalena berates him on the drinking. but when  the girls are gone, he’s back on his soft ass, pointing out that his   and marti’s glasses are in the same position. nope, i didn’t make that   up.

[while i never like it when people ditch people (or try to   kiss ‘em) in order to go for someone else, i have forgiven nico. i have forgiven them both. nico was already so soft for marti and when i look at the outcome of this/their story, when i look at how things  turned out, i’m certain it was inevitable. and because i am soft for their   love, i am able to forgive them.]

let’s carry on.

i find   nico’s suggestion to go to his place and take his bike for a ride   soft?? excuse me, what a wonderful idea! and while they’re driving he   looks content. bless. i’m thinking he really loves his bike. (does he   take his bike for a ride on a regular basis?) when they arrive at their location, he takes his time to park it thoroughly, i mean.

his "undress, or you won’t have a chance at beating me" it’s soft. especially the way he says “undress.” his voice is like an octave higher, but it’s not shrill. it’s calm and steady.

he’s soft when he’s challenging marti “ah-ah”

he’s soft when he starts tickling marti underwater, never losing his smile.

he’s soft when he keeps his promise that he won’t touch marti this time and then instantly grasps marti’s head when he’s being kissed.

he’s   soft when they lose themselves in their kiss and he holds marti’s   ellbow and then supports him when he pushes for the surface.

when they wake up in his bed, he’s gazing at marti, embracing him carefully like he’s fragile goods. waking him up with a sweet kiss. nuzzling his nose. bringing them breakfast. tracing a coffe heart on his arm.   goddamn.

and when we witness his vulnerability, it’s so palpable. he lets us see. he lets marti see. he’s open and soft and i just want   to wrap him in a blanket and give him a hot beverage, telling him   everything’s okay. it’s okay being soft, it’s okay being vulnerable.   here, have a cookie, too. take care of yourself, you soft, soft soul.

he's  so very soft, because he hangs up a red thread of fate for marti to   follow. he already left, but he makes sure that marti will wake up with a smile at least, leaving him little notes to read. he tells marti how cute he  looked sleeping. ufff. he tells marti to have breakfast. he wants to  take care of marti even though he can't be there with him when he wakes  up.

he nervously plays with his hands (again) when marti arrives  for their secret meeting. i love that detail, but it also makes me  sad. i think he’s soft when he notices marti’s upset that he didn’t  text earlier and he tries to make it up. he reaches out with caution,  touches him on the shoulder, showing his affection while saying sorry.

“i want to be with you. don’t you want to be with me?” he whispers, especially the question. goosebumps. he’s so gentle here. and brave. because his display of vulnerability   is out in the open. he wants to go all in, even if that could mean to   be rejected. nico fears rejection.

something that touched me deeply is when he realizes  what marti’s words could possibly mean. he doesn’t get angry. no, he just continues listening and even though a part of him shatters into tiny pieces right there in the school bathroom of the second floor, he doesn’t let it show. he smiles at marti and goes in for a kiss. a good-bye kiss if you want. look at his eyes and tell me you didn’t feel   his pain. his eyes say so much in this scene, it fucks me up. i have trouble breathing watching it. eff you, rocco. this scene belongs to you  entirely.

and then they leave the bathroom giggling and he  kisses marti’s neck. even though marti hurt him to the bone with his  words, he doesn’t want to leave (him) in anger.

he’s soft when  he meets marti after his recording for the radio. he pretends  everything’s alright, but we all know it isnt. marti can’t see it, but  we can. nico makes a joke, tries to get his attention, tries to  apologize, tries to make him see how much he misses him. i’m very  sorry, okay? please believe me!? we could go up to the terrace again  some time. maybe i'm brave enough to explain myself. but marti’s  wrapped up in his own hurt (understandable) and he doesn’t see. nico  tries so hard to reach out, but it just wouldn’t work.

he’s a  soft soul when he hides a strip cartoon on post-its (how long did he  work on that?) in nico’s backpack, asking him to hold on for him, look  out for him, because he’s trying to figure it all out. he’s a soft soul  when he hides the antidote in marti’s dictionary, telling him that he  misses him. “davvero.” and that he understands that he’s not easy to handle, but that he’s working on it. just wait for me a little longer, please?, he asks him and hopes that marti will hear him after he didn’t see how sorry he was at the radio. maybe words will get through to him.

he’s  soft when he takes marti’s words to heart and works on figuring out   how to talk to him. how to get to him. cause marti’s in bracciano. he’s all soft when he’s standing in front of him when they finally reunite. he smiles shyly and looks down at his feet.

while he’s set on   making marti understand how real this all is for him as well, and   basically ravishes him, he’s also soft, cause he’s a man on a mission.   he drove to bracciano, because that’s where marti was and he had to see him. he had to make him see. just that.

[still, because i bet the words marti uttered in the bathroom of the shool building lingered in his mind].

he’s  soft when they wake up the next morning and it’s marti asleep on his   chest. he’s soft when he tries to make him understand that it isn’t easy  to leave a relationship like he has/had with maddalena. that he wants   to figure out by himself what he feels and duh, isn’t it obvious, amore mio? you know what i feel, don’t play hard to get. but it’s okay,   i’ll serenade you anyway. i sing to you while planting little kisses on  your lips and face, and grazing my thumbs over your cheeks. i’m  holding you like this, because you mean so much to me and i don’t want  to lose you again. do you understand?

he feels sorry that  the boys haven't had a comfortable night while him and marti where  sharing a bed. so of course he proposes to take them out for breakfast.  it's the least he can do.

he’s soft when he’s thrilled that  marti’s about to meet his mom. he’s soft when he apoligizes later,  because that didn’t go so well. he’s soft when he asks for him to wait  outside of school so  they can walk in together. he covers marti's eyes  and asks him "who am i?" he'd love a kiss, but marti's not  ready for pda. that's okay though, he'll wait. he’s soft even when he’s hyper  and wants to escape the real world. after all, he wants to escape  together with martino. only with him.

he’s soft when he kisses  him on the cheek when they take a selfie on the train. he happily  shares little kisses and smiles here and there in the streets of milano  and on the balcony of their rented apartement. he’s cheeky, but also  soft when he steals a kiss from marti in front of the red neon light.  and he’s so very soft when he kisses marti’s heart. when they're  standing with naked torsi in front of each other, he kisses marti's  heart. just like that. he's soft when he shows marti his utter happiness during the red scene of love. always smiling, breathing him in. he  gently asks marti if he can take that last piece of sushi. and right before he runs off into the cold night, he looks at marti with this broken look, but he says “it’s only you and me.“ he always thinks about marti. even in a moment like that.

he’s  soft because it probably took him hours to draw a giraffe on his   mobile phone from the last century. he softly tells marti that his   heart isn’t the one betraying his feelings. it’s his brain. he tries to make marti understand that, even though he must have felt ashamed.   he’s soft, because he still keeps reaching out to him.

he softly   underlines this statement by telling him that he’s on the terrace where they more or less met and that he’s thinking of him. that he’s fallen   in love with him, but that he doubts that marti will believe him. he’s   so very open and soft and brave in that moment. he really is. and he   stays there for what? yes, he stays there for hours thinking about   marti. because he knows he’s in one of those shining lights he can see   from up there. i imagine that makes him a bit less sad.

and when   marti finally understands and reaches the terrace, he does not hide his vulnerability. it’s not as if he is able to. nico can’t quite grasp   that marti really came for him. but marti’s answers with his own piece   of softness and so he lets himself fall into his embrace.

he’s vulnerable when he struggles with marti’s devotion to make him feel better.  he’s brave when he lets marti in and he lets himself be soft with him  even though he’s not feeling well. he would never turn down marti's  kisses on the nose. because he's soft for marti and marti deserves soft  kisses on the nose, too.

he’s soft when he asks how marti’s exams went. his exhaustion doesn’t stop him from thinking about marti’s life.

he’s  soft in his braveness. he will kiss marti good-bye. he doesn’t care where. he doesn’t care who could see. all he wants his a good-bye kiss and a promise to talk later.

he’s soft when he comes up with an idea how to help the boys. he’s soft when he tells luchì that he could still be the first one to talk to sofi. he gazes at marti when the boys  leave the kitchen. heart eyes at its finest.

he’s soft when he tells marti that his mother wants to meet him again. that she’s sorry. maybe that’s even a metaphor for him still being sorry for everything he’s put marti through, so he thinks. he cautiously checks if marti’s sure “si?” you’ll come over tomorrow to meet my mom? you sure?

he gives the softest panettone flavoured kisses. they both do.

he’s soft for marti taking care of him. it’s all in his eyes. in his body language.

he softly admits defeat when marti tells him he’ll flush down the weed. because marti knows it’s not good for him. and in the end, he appreciates   it.

he fell hard for marti when they talked in the radio booth  for the first time, separated by glass. and now, that they both got rid  of that barrier together, he falls even harder for marti with every  day, because marti wants to be with him no matter what (happend in the  past).

so, imagine, if nico hadn’t be soft on so many occasions.  imagine. would marti x nico have overcome their misunderstandings,  their [own] barriers? would they be together now?

nico could have  just let marti go after they talked in the school bathroom. but he was  already so far gone for marti, he held on to the hope that marti didn’t  really mean what he said. if nico just showed him how much he cared  for him and that his mental illness didn’t hinder his love for him,  that it was all real for him, one day marti could love him, too, no?

who  would have blamed him, if nico hadn’t tried again with marti after this?  but he did. for deep inside of him, there lingers a softness that asks  him to try again. with marti. with life in general. he could give up so  easily, and maybe he thought about dismissing his emotions and turning  cold in the process, but he tries and tries and tries. nico doesn’t  give up, he always tries again. it touched me deeply.

season two  was about martino, and i have so much love for his character in my  heart, i could write endless essays about it. but nico? if marti is  soft, so is he. it was all there in the open for us to see. it was in  the little moments and details, in the silly moments and in the ‘grand  gestures.’ nico’s softness was visible, but it was so very palpabale,  too; i swear i could feel it in my own bones when i followed him on  screen. and i’m so incredibly glad, that in spite of all those  struggles, i could witness him grow bit by bit, reaching acceptance  step by step.

so, in conclusion:

being soft is not a  weakness, on the contrary, it’s brave being soft. it's brave being  gentle and open. and it's brave trying to continue being soft even when  things look bad. especially then.

nico embodies that to the bone. and for that he has my ♡

i  wish there were more people in the world who also carry softness in their heart besides their strength like nico. perhaps i haven’t paid enough attention in the last months. i know those people are out there.  they have always been existing. and they will continue to. i know that.  so perhaps this hasn’t been a wake-up call on a personal level, but  more of a reminder. i can say this now with conviction after seaosn two   ended, i know i needed it. it evoked a lot of memories, feelings, and   well, hopes. i have seen a little bit of nico in myself. i hope i can rediscover my own softness. and i hope i can be as brave as nico one day, as brave as all the nicos in the world. i see you. even more clearly now and you all have my ♡ truly

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 9: Clarke (III)

There’s something up with Raven.

A major something.

A something that Clarke can’t seem, for the life of her, to pinpoint, but yet still knows it’s there. Bubbling just beneath the surface of her best friend’s nonchalant smirk and unwavering air of cool confidence.

Raven will never flat out admit it. No. Clarke knows better. She will have to be the one to ask. And then ask again… And again… And possibly a few more times after that. That’s how it works with Raven. Clarke has to be the one to poke and prod until almost the point of utter exhaustion before Raven will even consider revealing any of her cards.

Clarke first learned this about her best friend back when they were in fifth grade and Raven had started showing up to school with an array of peculiar injuries. First, it was the three-inch gash above her left eyebrow. The one that Raven had said she had gotten from falling off of her BMX bike while riding to school. And then it was the black eye. Another spontaneous injury from not paying attention. But that was the first clue for Clarke. Raven always paid attention… Always.

So Clarke asked the question. The one that none of the adults around them seemed to want to ask.

Was everything ok?

And Raven swore it was. Again and again. Even went as far as stopped talking to Clarke for well over a week, when Clarke wouldn’t let it go.

But, then one day, Raven didn’t show up to school and Clarke knew that the question needed to be asked again. One more time. And she was determined not to give up until Raven, her very best friend on the face of the earth, gave her the real answer.

Clarke hadn’t been prepared, though, to handle the truth behind the answer. The cold harsh truth that not everyone had parents that loved and cared for them. That protected them and tucked them in at night in the comforts of a warm bed and a comfy house. That some people were handed the short end of the stick when it came to the life they were born into. A life where they were simply an afterthought -- if a thought at all-- and survival meant learning how to fend for oneself at too early of an age.

That day had resulted in an impromptu trip to the hospital where Clarke had held Raven’s hand as her mom re-set Raven’s broken and stitched her up in more places than Clarke wanted to count. And also an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Clarke would always ask, regardless of how hard the question might be. And Raven would let her.

Clarke had meant to pull Raven aside before they had left Lexa’s house but there had just hadn't been a good moment to do so. No, not between getting ready for the party and Lexa…

Okay. Maybe there had been one too many moments with Lexa. But, then again, is there ever enough? No. Not for Clarke. Lexa is nothing short of oxygen for her. Clarke needs her presence-- her touch-- to breathe.

“How the hell can someone so tiny take up so much room? Move over,” Anya says giving Octavia an extra hard nudge in the shoulder.

“Fuck off, Woods,” Octavia fires back, throwing an elbow of her own. “And I’m not tiny.”

“Whatever you say, baby Blake.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder at the human sandwich that is Raven, Octavia, and Anya in the backseat of Lexa’s Range Rover and can’t help but let out a chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it. “You guys better quit it or Lexa’s gonna turn this car around.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Anya muttered under her breath and gives Octavia another shove.

Octavia once again goes to retaliate, but Raven stops her before she can make contact with Anya.

“Here,” Raven unbuckles her seat belt and shifts her body, making room for Octavia. “Lean up against me.”

Octavia moves towards Raven, re-positioning herself right into Raven’s lap as she does. Raven instinctually wraps her arms around Octavia’s waist and silently signaling to Octavia to relax. The space between them melts away to the point where it is almost indecipherable when Raven ends and Octavia begins.

“Thanks, Rae,” Octavia says in a voice barely above a whisper and Raven gives a simple nod in response.

Clarke watches the entire exchange transpire through the rearview mirror and can’t help but take note of it all. The words. The looks. Even the light but telling touches. It’s all entirely familiar… Too familiar.

It’s the same underlying electricity that flows between Clarke and Lexa whenever they are in each other’s presence.

It’s love.

Raven is in love with Octavia.

And it’s a more than strong possibility that it isn’t the unrequited type of love.

Suddenly Clarke is hit with the overwhelming urge to ask the question again. And as soon as humanly possible… Even if she isn’t fully ready to hear the answer.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Hey, Rae?” Clarke calls out to the taller latina as the group piles out of Lexa’s car twenty minutes later and onto the sidewalk in front of Murphy’s house. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” Raven replies, holding back from following Anya, Octavia, and Lexa.

“Clarke?” Lexa pauses as well at the odd request.

“It’s fine, baby. Go. I’ll catch up with you inside.” Clarke motions for Lexa to keep on walking and then turns her attention back to Raven.

“What’s going on, Griff?”

“Are you…” Clarke trails off as a surprise wave of nerves crashes down upon her. She runs her hands through her wild mane of blond curls and attempts to hide the growing sense of internal doubt with a smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Clarke--”

“No. I mean it, Rae. This is me… asking you… if you’re okay.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of them as the sounds of the house party in the near distance fills the surrounding night air. Clarke searches to grab hold of Raven’s eyes, trying her best to project nothing but reassurance that whatever it is, that it’ll be okay. It always is.

That’s been the deal since the start.

“I don’t know.”

The words punch through the night, grabbing hold of Clarke’s full attention. “Is it Finn?”

Raven lets out a harsh laugh and Clarke suddenly catch a glimpse of fear hiding deep within Raven’s chocolate brown eyes.

“You two broke up?”

“Something like that.”

“Did he…” Clarke trails off, realizing that the question isn’t the right one she needed to be asking as soon as the words start to leave her mouth.

“No. But that would’ve been easier.” Raven runs her hands over her ponytail, trying her best to mask her emotions bubbling up from beneath the surface of her cool and confident exterior. But it’s too late. Clarke can see the truth. It’s itching to break free from Raven’s lips.

She just needs to ask the right question. One that Raven can’t dance around.

“This isn’t about Finn, is it?”

Raven doesn’t respond. She can’t. Every ounce of energy she has is going towards keeping her walls from crumbling.

“Rae, is there something—“

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice cuts through the steady ambient party sounds, stopping Clarke mid-question. “You coming?”

Clarke’s eyes dart back towards the house and spot Lexa’s silhouette lingering in the doorway. “Yeah, baby. One minute.”

As soon as Clarke looks back, she knows that she missed the moment. The hint of raw emotions is now nowhere to be found on Raven’s face. It’s been magically replaced with her trademark smirk and a devilish glint in her eyes.

“We’ll talk later, Griff. Promise.”

“Okay,” Clarke replies giving Raven a reassuring smile in return. “Later.”

“Good. Now c'mon. We’ve got a date with Murphy’s beer pong table.” Raven throws her arm around Clarke’s shoulder and, without another moment’s hesitation, steers the two of them towards the house. Clarke willing gives in but can't help shake the nagging feeling churning in the depths of her stomach that it's a mistake.

The question needs to be asked… And soon. Before the answer is forced out at the worst possible time.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Jesus. What kinda drugs do they have me on?” Anya blurts out as Clarke and Lexa make their way into the hospital room.

“Hi,” Clarke says quietly, trying her best to force a smile onto her face, but it doesn’t fully reach her eyes.

It's bad…  

Beyond bad…

The kind of bad that suddenly detonates like a grenade, blowing any semblance of normality to shreds and leaving all those in its wake left to somehow piece together the tattered remains.

It’s the same exact bad that ripped her dad, Jake, away without any warning whatsoever.

One minute Clarke had been struggling to get through her freshman year Bio midterm and the next, she was flying down the 405, desperate to get across town to the hospital -- her mother’s hospital -- where her dad had been taken. But it hadn’t mattered in the long run. Jake had never made it to the hospital. Instead, he had died on the way there, in the back of an ambulance, having not been able to be resuscitated after suffering from a massive heart attack while mowing the lawn.

Octavia had been home at the time and had the unfortunate luck of not only finding Jake but also having to be there in the ambulance when the paramedics all but formally called time of death.

They had never really talked about it much beyond that day in the hospital when Abby delivered the devastating news to both Clarke and Bellamy. Then again, Clarke never really talked about anything related to Jake after that day. Not to Octavia… nor Abby… or even Bell.

Instead, Clarke simply packed up the shattered remains of her already broken heart and buried them deep down inside, in a place where no one could tamper with them again.

No. Clarke intimately knows this kind of bad first hand and all the potential damage it will bring to anyone it touches.

“Hey, Ahn.” Lexa’s voice cracks on the tail end of her sister’s name, sounding unusually fragile and scared.

Clarke instinctively reached out and gently places her hand on the small of Lexa’s back and instantly feels the nerves radiating off of her. She knows she shouldn't do it. That even though it's a simple gesture, it's still yet another step across the line… The line that Clarke swore that, up until this point, she would never consider crossing.

But, old habits die hard… Especially habits that happen to involve the only person that Clarke has ever truly loved.

“I’m hallucinating, right? You two can’t be here… In the same room… together?” Anya rambles on, ever so slightly slurring her words thank in part to the cocktail of painkillers coursing through her veins.

“No. We’re really here,” Clarke responds.

“Shit. Rae’s so not gonna…” Anya trails off as a twisted look of sudden horror spreads across her face. “Raven… Oh god, Raven… Where is she? We were in the ambulance and… and… Oh god, please tell me she’s okay. She’s gotta be okay. She has to be…”

“Wait. Raven was in the car with you?” Clarke asks in stunned disbelief.

“Yeah. We were on our way to meet Lexa for brunch. Her and I. We were fighting and… Oh god… She… She…” But the rest of Anya’s sentence is lost in a series of gut-wrenching sobs as the recent memories crash down upon her. She struggles to catch her breath, causing Lexa to immediately snap out of her own thoughts and rush to her aide.

“Lexa, I--”

“Go, Clarke,” Lexa cuts Clarke off as she ever so carefully rubs gently circles on Anya’s back. “Go find Raven. We’ll be okay.”

Clarke gives a nod, unable to find her words, and then takes off out of the hospital room. She races down the semi-crowded corridor, barely cognizant of her surrounds as her mind hones in one thing and one thing only… Raven.

Fuck. Raven.

Of course Raven had been in the car with Anya. They’ve been together for the better half of the last four years and living together for well over two.

That’s why Raven hadn't been in the waiting room when they had shown up to the hospital.

Clarke mentally kicks herself in the ass for not coming to the realization sooner. Sure, the chaos of Lexa physical presence is partially to blame for her lack of coherent thoughts but she knows that it isn't the only reason.

Clarke's relationship with Raven has been complicated for years now. Ever since the brutal aftermath of Murphy's party.

Clarke had sworn that things wouldn't change. That whatever had gone down between Raven and Octavia, was between them and wouldn't affect their friendship.

But of course, it had.

How could it not?

Raven had taken advantage of her little sister… Or at least that had been the general rumor.

It was yet another question that Clarke had never asked.

“Clarke?” One of the nurses calls out, snapping Clarke out of her thoughts. She slows down her pace and as a young dirty blonde woman in salmon colored scrubs approaches from the opposite direction.

“Hey, Harper.”

“Thought that was you. What are you doing here? Thought you were off until Thursday?”

“I am but my friends… Do you know which room the second patient from the car crash is in?” Clarke asks, trying not to dive too much into the details. She knows better. Harper always means well, but the girl loves to talk and there’s the strong risk that offering up too much information will only lead to a full-blown conversation, which Clarke doesn’t have the time nor the patience for. Not now.

“You mean the DUI that was brought in an hour ago?” Harper responds. “One of them was just moved to room 315.”

The word DUI catch hold of Clarke’s attention for the briefest of seconds, throwing her slightly off-guard. Part of her craves to know more. To ask the question that’s bubbling up from the depths of her subconsciousness, but this isn’t the right time. So instead, Clarke tucks that piece of information away for safekeeping.

“What about the other? Female. In her 20s. Latina--”

“Oh her… Yeah, she was just taken up to ICU. Really rough shape. Coded a few times on her way here… She’s a friend of yours?”

Clarke gives a simple nod in response as she bites back the hint of tears starts to form in her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Ah. That makes so much now.”

“What does?” Clarke asks, trying to follow along.

“There was this person who showed up in the ER, who refused to leave the girl’s side. Wasn’t in the accident or anything, but seemed to know the girl. Gave everyone a shit ton of attitude when they tried to get them to leave and said that their mom was head surgery here. They even forced their way into ICU--”

“O…” The name leaves Clarke’s lip like a reflex. “That’s my little sister.”

“Knew it! Zoe so owes me twenty,” Harper exclaims with a gleeful smile. “Is she single?”

“What?” Clarke questions.

“Your sister? Is she single? Not asking for me, but Zoe’s totally interested if she is.”

“I… I don’t…”

“She’s queer, right? I mean no one looks like that and doesn’t at least fall somewhere on the rainbow spectrum,” Harper follows up, completely oblivious to Clarke’s present state. “I thought maybe non-binary too, but you just said sister, so I’m guessing--”

“Harper,” Clarke interrupts. “What room?”

“Huh?”

“My friend. What room in ICU?”

“Oh. Think it’s 12,” Harper replies.

“Thanks.” Clarke doesn’t wait for a response. She takes off once again down the hallway as a new set of questions invade her already cluttered thoughts.

Octavia’s with Raven? But Octavia can’t stand Raven. At least not since…

The two can barely tolerate being in the same room together, let alone…

Queer.

Is that it? Why wouldn’t have Octavia said something? After all these years. Clarke has never given her a reason not to feel like she couldn’t…

Non-binary.

That’s the word Harper used.

Again, why wouldn’t she…

Is that even the right pronoun?

And where does Raven fit into this? Or has Raven… Has Raven known all along? Is that why--

“Shit,” Clarke exhales with a heavy breath of air as she comes to a sudden halt in front of the door window of room 12. She instantly spots Octa…

No.

O.

O sits in the corner of the room, knees tucked underneath their chin and arms wrapped tightly around them, slightly rocking back and forth. Their eyes locked in on one thing and one thing only… Raven.

Clarke stands there, simply watching her younger sibling through the doorway, unable to move as a tsunami of guilt-laced clarity crashes down upon her.

She’s been asking the right question all along…

But just not to the right person.

[whichwitchami]

Month of Spreads 2 Day 10

Give Me Clarity Spread

I have a feeling this spread is going to be highly personal. I asked for it though, with the specific situation I wanted clarity on. 

My signifier is the Queen of Cups. She represents me, someone who has gone through her share of darkness, who has trusted herself to get through, and who now uses that knowledge to give others guidance and advice. I’ve been through a lot lately, and what I need clarity on is if I’m ready to move forward, or if I need to sit back and rest a bit longer. 

1. The situation from my point of view. Four of Pentacles 

As a four, and as a pentacle, this is a card of intense stability. Everything is tightly controlled, there is no room for error. Error equals pain, regrets, being vulnerable. In this card, the natural flow of the universe is dampened, by trying too tightly to control it, we create stagnation.

It’s been 6 months since the break up. I’m trying to move away from it in my daily life and my readings, but the truth is its still affecting me. Not necessarily in a ‘woe is me’ pain/ pity type thing like it was at first. I’ve worked hard on healing, but I’ve been spending a lot of time on self growth and self love. These are good things to focus on, but if I stay here my life will become stagnant. While pentacles usually represent money, I see this card representing my heart, my trust. I’ve kept it so close to the chest, tight in a box, scared to let the universe flow naturally because the fragile pieces might shatter once again if I do. 

Putting this in the context with the Queen of Cups, I’ve definitely built a lot of walls. My trust is fragile, I know exactly where and why that happened. I need to change my mentality though, away from the thoughts of someone who is broken, to someone who is healing. I can’t move forward if I keep seeing myself as damaged. Sure, the cracks may never fully repair, but if I am to move on, I need to focus on where I am strong, and not on the ‘what ifs’ of whether or not everything will shatter again. 

2. The situation from an outside point of view. The Sun

The ‘core meaning’ for this card according to the book is: Clarity that brings joy. I find that a bit funny considering this is a spread about clarity. 

Put simply the Sun represents happiness for the sake of happiness. It’s not a complex card. It’s being happy and enjoying life. 

I don’t really know what this means. Am I happy? I do think living on my own and the self-care I’ve been working on is doing me good. I’ve seen myself grow leaps and bounds since this relationship ended. I’m taking the lessons I wanted to learn and the ones I didn’t want to learn and am letting them shape me into something new, something stronger. 

At the same time, this is the situation from an outside view. Does that mean I appear happy when I’m really not? Is this a ‘fake it till you make it’ situation? Am I faking it but haven’t quite made it? Or is it the opposite, where I’m ready but I’m not seeing it myself? Others see me as happy and ready to move forward, but my doubts are holding me back?

With the Queen of Cups, someone who has been through her fair share, who knows that you can rebuild...I think it leans towards me being happy on the outside, but not necessarily that I’m faking it, just that all things have to balance. If I am to move forward, I need to feel the happiness as it comes, remember to enjoy it, but also remember the things that hurt me, that built the walls in the first place, so that history doesn’t repeat itself. 

So, from an outside perspective, I think this means that the situation shows that balance, that I am happy and ready to take on something new, but also that its going to take time. There may be setbacks, may be moments of unnecessary caution, but ultimately I’m happy. 

3. Outright facts or dominant energies that are present. The Tower

We all know what the Tower means, we all dread seeing this chaos, destruction, instability come up in our readings. The outright fact of the matter is that this break up was devastating to me. Not only was it as sudden and as out of the blue as the Tower might suggest, but it was as painful, earth shattering, and reality shattering, as the card indicates. I was a wreck after the break up. This guy did everything he could (intentionally or not) to exploit every insecurity I had in the relationship, from the fear of his best friend being more important than me, to the fear that I had placed my trust in the wrong person. In the end, it wasn’t the fact that he turned to her, or the fact that his mental health was unstable, that hurt me most, it was the fact that he KNEW from the moment we met how important trust was to me, and he still chose to lie, to betray that trust. More than anything what hurt was that once again, my trust was in pieces on the floor. That’s the facts of the break up. 

Pairing it with the Queen of Cups makes the most sense in this reading, since the Tower in this situation, the break up, is what got me where I am. Fighting through insecurities, through mistrust, through pain, all caused by “the Break up” plus other instances of having my trust betrayed in the past is what got me here. I’ve been scared to move forward because I’m afraid of facing another Tower. Another heartbreak, another complete destruction of the now even more fragile trust I have. Whomever I date next is gonna have to be real patient. I don’t expect them to fix my trust for me, but they’ll have to deal with every instance of me doubting them while I work through my own insecurities. The Queen is a reminder of how far I have come though, how I can use what I’ve been through to navigate the energy of the Tower to handle things better next time. 

4.  Hidden truths or obstacles. The High Priestess

The Priestess symbolizes truth, wisdom, and understanding, but a kind of knowing that just is. There’s no receipts, there’s no proof, nothing concrete for you to point to and say “this is why I know I’ll be able to move forward.” Instead its a truth in the heart, the soul of who you are, that just feels right. Only experience can tell us what we need to know. Not what we want to know, but what we need to know. 

“Something that can only be understood through experience” 

This card is telling me the truth that I need to hear, but don’t want to hear. The only way I’ll know if I’m ready to move forward, is if I put myself out there. Take the risk of another Tower. There is no switch that flips and proves I’m ready.  Only experience will tell. So I have to put myself out there, be vulnerable, and see how I react if and when I get hurt again, or something tests my ability to trust. 

The Queen of Cups tells me I’m better equipped to recognize potential danger. I’ve lived through it once, I’ll recognize it now, and if need be I’ll live through it again. Whether or not that means I’m truly ready to have those boundaries tested, can only be known through having them pushed and seeing how I react. 

5. What I ultimately need to know or understand. Page of Swords 

The Page of Swords represents someone who is prepared, but not exactly patient. A bit reckless, they wanna take things and run with it, but they’re confident it’ll work out well, and everything is planned out, even if it seems spontaneous or careless. Every step of the way with a Page of Swords will require explanation, questioning everything, and analysis of the situation. 

“Someone who is ready to try something new in relation to ideas, systems, or communication.” 

I think this represents who I am going to be, the reality of who I am moving forward. Deep down I am the Queen of Pentacles, but to repair my wounds and get back there, I have to go through the Page of Swords. Going into a new relationship, if and when that occurs, I will question everything. I will hate myself for it because I don’t want to be the one with trust issue, but until those issues are challenged and proved wrong, I won’t heal. Healing comes from hesitantly trusting, questioning the trust, and seeing that the other person is being truthful and not trying to break my heart. It’ll be a slow, painful process, but the Page of Swords is here to help me along the way, to remind me that communication no matter how blunt or tactless, is key. If I go into a situation with distrust, I need to clearly explain why, and that I am healing through this. 

6. How I should proceed. Three of Wands 

This is a card of anticipation, of adjusting vision, thoughts, feelings, actively doing what you can while you wait. This card IS the law of attraction. This tells me that my efforts to heal as much as I can, to love myself first, and to care for myself are paying off. I’ve healed as much as I can on my own. Now is the time to keep fine tuning and working on myself, while putting out to the universe that I am ready, that I realize things will be tough, but I’ve already put in so much effort, and I’m not gonna stop now, so bring me what you can. I know it’ll be a journey of its own, but I’m ready to take that step. 

7. Ish. Wrapping it all up. 

there’s a lot happening up there, but the bottom line is I am ready to move forward. I know that being ready means vulnerability, opening myself up to the possibility of realizing that I’m not actually ready, but I won’t know until I take the risk, until I try. I can’t finish healing until I put myself out there. So bring it on Universe, bring me something to help me move forward. I’ll be here waiting, continuing to work on myself until the time is right. 

[ritzyishkabibble-archived]

On the chapter when Nathaniel confronted Fitzgerald and said Margaret's condition was all his fault, what did he actually feel at the time? Remorse? Wounded pride?

@anon wishes to make a deposit // let’s slip into something more comfortable...like a coma

[ I apologize--I got really excited about answering this, anon, and while trying to give you as much as a detailed answer I could, I sort of...went all over the place because I’m crazy about character analysis, and Fitzgerald is all sorts of complex for someone like me who acts the complete opposite of him. So I’m sorry if this seems...insane. I hope I still managed to answer the question to your satisfaction, though! ]

            [ $ FRANCIS SCOTT KEY FITZGERALD $ ]

To be honest, darling anon, I have a feeling that it’s a little bit of both, perhaps more so on the wounded pride side of things. While I am certain Fitzgerald definitely has some remorse for the way things turned out, I am definitely not going to deny the fact that he is primarily a very vain and prideful character.

When Margaret went into her condition, Fitzgerald didn’t seem all that concerned for her. In fact, he seemed almost...eerily complacent about it. His movements are aloof, his facial expressions are relaxed--everything about Fitzgerald seems pretty typically...Fitz. In my opinion, he is an incredibly emotionally distant person. His arrogance, his social status, and just the way he acts in general...Fitz doesn’t make himself really personable, does he? He’s not a highly empathetic guy--it’s just not in his best interests. After all, what does he care if you’re poor, sick, starving, etc.? As long as you have something he wants, it doesn’t matter the condition that it’s in, he’s going to get it. 

However, seeing as how Fitzgerald was paying for sustaining Margaret’s comatose body which is probably not cheap, he does in fact care to some small degree. He’s just not emotionally receptive.

While I’m not 100% sure about Margaret, I do think Fitzgerald cares for his subordinates in general--he tends to treat all his subordinates fairly well, actually. So well, in fact, he pays them ridiculous amounts of money as their payrolls and bought Lucy braces (braces aren’t cheap--you think an orphan can afford those?), so it’s probably safe to assume that Fitzgerald is capable of not being totally heartless.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he took pride in how well he treats his subordinates. Perhaps Fitzgerald thought he was being the best boss there was; Fitzgerald does tend to aggrandize himself more so than other characters. With an ego like that, he probably succumbs to the illusion of confidence a lot. While we’ve certainly seen our fair share of egotistical characters, Fitzgerald doesn’t seem to be bound by the same practicality, I think, like Chuuya and Akutagawa. He’s always come across as someone who proclaims himself to be much bigger than he actually is as opposed to being confident in what he is already to me (there’s a difference in how those type of people carry themselves--Fitzgerald actively goes out of his way to make himself better than everyone else as opposed to doing so naturally. When we see him in a much more...comfortable...setting, where he doesn’t have to act so much, in Chapter 45, he’s still outgoing and confident, but it’s not so inflated and we get to see some of his more natural inclinations. Its’s just, to me, those are telltale signs of someone being put into a situation they aren’t comfortable in and wanting to prove themselves, but I digress!).

The point is, Fitzgerald tends to think of himself much better than he actually is.

When Margaret went into the coma, he was probably under the impression that he was doing good or doing right by helping her out--that this incident was never his fault--for he was the boss and the boss doesn’t make mistakes. It must certainly be the subordinate’s fault for failure, not him! All he was doing was paying them to pay off a family debt; it’s not his fault that they signed up for a job they couldn’t be able to fulfill.

Because of his ego, Fitzgerald didn’t initially see that critical failure on his part, that it would be traced back to him. So when Nathaniel, a highly respectable subordinate (judging by their relations throughout this chapter and how Fitzgerald took Nathaniel’s words, it was probably safe to assume they respected each other to a certain degree prior), begins pointing out the Fitzgerald wasn’t a good boss and that Margaret’s coma was all his doing, not hers, it completely shattered his illusion of confidence. Fitzgerald could emotionally detach himself from the situation by making himself a non-proponent chess piece, but Nathaniel pointed out that, if he hadn’t moved a certain way, Margaret would still be on the board and, with that revealed, Fitzgerald couldn’t be a non-proponent chess piece anymore.

In such a case, Fitzgerald’s uses emotional detachment as a way to keep the blame from off of him and to help shield his fragile ego (it’s big but it’s definitely fragile), but the instant that someone sees just how involved Fitzgerald truly is, his ego is suddenly vulnerable to all forms of attacks.

Have you ever received a piece of criticism for something that you were really proud of before, something that you thought was awesome or great and, even if the criticism was constructive, you simply didn’t want to accept it because your piece of work was perfect just the way it was?

That’s sort of how I feel Fitzgerald took what Nathaniel said to him.

Now, I’m guilty of this just as well--I’m trying to improve upon it, I swear--but when you sometimes receive criticism you’re not especially happy for getting, you can tend to not only lash out, but justify yourself in terms of their criticisms.

Is that not what Fitzgerald did soon after?

He went storming up to Alcott, demanding the one strategy that would effectively wipe out all of Yokohama, on the pretense that he was keeping his subordinates safe. When Alcott tried to warn him otherwise as well, he...he pretty much physically threatened to throw a snowglobe at her in the midst of what I believe is a case of...

a temper tantrum.

Not only did he lash out unnecessarily, but Fitzgerald tried to justify his actions for an otherwise heinous set of crimes. All because Nathaniel managed to make Fitzgerald feel like he’s not as great as he proclaims himself to be...ie wounded pride.

Don’t get me wrong: Fitzgerald probably does feel remorse for having let down his subordinates, which might’ve fueled the fire...but his reactions soon after and his general flaws as a character tend to make me believe it probably had something to do with his ego more-so than Margaret herself.

Not to mention too...Fitzgerald tends to objectify his subordinates, which might also cater to his tendency for emotional detachment and general aloofness to keep his pride from taking a hit way too hard to the balls, so with that being said, I wouldn’t put it past him to have such a mindset when making the decisions.