#leave it to me to fall for the grieving old guy

[valc0]

baddies

[mychemicalrachel]

Full disclosure, I have not seen the Teen Wolf movie and no I do not plan on it. I have caught a few things through the magic of tumblr and I had some thoughts. So if everything I saw is accurate; Derek has a kid Eli (basically a Stiles replacement since Dylan wasn’t in the movie. Also, nobody knows who his mother is?) and Derek dies, and he leaves his kid to Scott and Allison. Am I right so far? I’ve seen a few posts entertaining the idea of Stiles being Eli’s other dad, fix-its that have him resurrecting/saving Derek in some capacity. And so it got me thinking of my own version of how I would fix this dumpster fire and like,

What if Stiles was not Eli’s dad?

No no no, hear me out, okay?

Derek had Eli with some one night stand or whatever, it’s not important. She’s not in the picture but neither is Stiles. Stiles is just the one that got away, he’s the guy Derek has been pining over for the past fifteen years, and nothing more. Stiles finally got away from the supernatural shitshow and Derek is not going to be the one to drag him back into it just because he has feelings for him.

But Stiles is still the closest thing Derek has ever had to family and it makes sense for Derek to entrust his family with Stiles’ family. So what if he left Eli in the care of John? (hIS NAME IS JOHN, FIGHT ME ON THIS.) And John, he kind of adores the kid, right? Of course when Derek dies (because he does) John takes Eli in just as he promised he would.

But John is getting older. Eli is a handful because he is just like Stiles. John has to tell Stiles eventually what happened and he really could use some help trying to wrangle a grieving teenager, so he calls Stiles.

Stiles is FURIOUS when he finds out what happened. He hasn’t been in contact with Scott for years because he realized what a piece of shit Scott was, but the fact that Scott didn’t even call when everything was happening makes him angry. The fact that they let Derek die?? More than angry. Angry enough to kill somebody. But when he meets Eli, all that anger disappears. Eli, who is this weird mix of Derek and Stiles, who is mourning the loss of his only parent, his only family. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but even after his mom died, he always had his dad. Eli doesn’t have that so Stiles makes it his responsibility to become that figure for him. Not his dad because nobody could replace Derek, but a guardian.

He moves back to town, he bonds with Eli, and in his spare time he maybe starts to explore the possibilities of necromancy. Death in a place like Beacon Hills has never been permanent– Peter and now Allison are proof of that. He doesn’t tell anybody because he doesn’t actually plan on bringing Derek back, it’s just a thought that keeps him from falling apart entirely. During this time, he realizes not only his feelings for Derek, but Derek’s feelings for him. He wishes he could have just a few minutes with Derek, wishes he could go back in time and redo everything. Maybe he would have stayed in Beacon Hills, or he would have asked Derek to leave with him. And time travel, yeah that’s a possibility, too, but time is a fickle bitch and Stiles isn’t willing to gamble with it. What if he messes something up and erases Eli from existence?

In the end, bringing Derek back is kind of an accident.

Years have passed and Eli is healing, Stiles is healing– they even manage to fix the jeep together because symbolism. Stiles is going through some old journals or something of Deaton’s and he finds something that looks kind of promising (something about true love being the one thing more powerful than death or something equally as cheesy) and he’s reading it out loud and it just happens. No fanfare, no sparks, almost like it’s not magic at all. One second, Stiles is alone, and the next, Derek is there– older than the last time Stiles saw him, just as beautiful. There’s some panic because what the fuck, the last thing Derek remembers is the fire and being so sure he was going to die and thinking if only I could see Stiles one more time and now he’s here, standing in front of Stiles– also older than the last time Derek saw him, and just as beautiful. But after the panic, there’s some kissing and some crying and some long awaited love confessions, and by the time they go home, Stiles still isn’t sure exactly what happened, what he did, what the consequences might be, but he’s got his arm around Derek’s waist and the burn of Derek’s stubble on his lips and Derek is alive so nothing else fucking matters.

[see-arcane]

Today’s entry is one of many that really drives home why I can never quite bring myself to get into softer ‘uwu he’s just misunderstood and sexy-liberating’ versions of Dracula. Just. I can’t. I really really can’t.

Up to this point, he’s already had a monstrous moment in bringing the ladies their first on-screen kids meal crying and squirming in its sack. He’s had outright predatory back-to-back moments in imprisoning, coercing, robbing, and getting increasingly threatening and handsy with Jonathan. This, capped with the fact that he plans to kill/drink/gift him to the Undead Girl Gang by the end of June.

‘But what about his, “I too can love,” huh? He’s just loving as best a monster can! He could be tearing everyone around him to ribbons for annoying him, Brides and Jonathan included! Instead he goes out of his way to feed the ladies, albeit gruesomely, and has no retort when they laugh at and insult the lonely old bat. And he isn’t planning to kill Jonathan. He wants to keep him! Sure, it’s a sick version of it, but to him conscripting and collecting Jonathan rather than executing him outright is the height of affection! Surely that’s grounds for some of the more ~romantic~ takes in warped gothic flavor?’

To an extent, yeah. 

But he also just dressed up in Jonathan’s stolen clothes to cover up for the man’s own abduction, imprisonment, and undeadifying, while also increasing the odds of Jonathan already getting mistaken for a vampire, bringing home another child for the ladies to devour, and then ordered a pack of wolves to eat a grieving mother alive for making noise at his gate.

And this? This is just the tip of the iceberg for how downright hellish he gets as the novel progresses. 

Dracula can absolutely be a nuanced character within canon, offshoots, retellings, re-imaginings, and so on. And he should be! He’s a very interesting bastard who’s got so much more going on than a few one-liners and a taste for good cloaks and yummy company. But his actual actions in the book--even the smallest ones--just automatically torpedo 90% of my audience enjoyment when I run into yet another ‘Oh, but he did it all because he was in love!/misunderstood!/depressed!/unfairly maligned by the eeevil human Victorian characters in their journals and newsprint and body count records!’ version of the Count. 

Even sillier takes that try to heroify him for kids like Hotel Transylvania just kind of make my brain trip and fall into a pit of ??? 

‘Look kids, Dracula is really a nice guy and a sweet dad who runs a fun little hotel for his misunderstood Universal Horror monster buddies! Isn’t he neat?’

It leaves me biting my tongue and holding this mental grimace as I think about the sacks full of weeping children, the slaughtered mother, a young man imprisoned for making the mistake of endearing himself so much to a sadistic monster that the latter has decided to keep him as a tortured toy and undead pseudo-slave for eternity, with an entire blood buffet of human cattle still waiting to fill out the rest of the novel with trauma, horror, and death. 

‘Ohhh, but look at Francis’ tragique sweetheart version who stole all his redeeming qualities from Jonathan Harker! Ohhh, but look at the funny silly Adam Sandler cartoon and his new everyman-settling daughter! Ohhh, but look at how #cool and modern-sexyedgy an antihero/villain he is when penned by every projecting director and their grandmother! Lighten up, it’s just a different interpretation!*’

*Of the character whose whole deal is psychological torture, being a predatory creep, casual murder, and worse-than-murder of innocents.

I know it skews me towards being a whiny purist. I know. Let folks have fun. I know. But still, it feels so wrong every time I see someone try to ‘awww, he’s not so bad!’-ify him in new media when. No. He is exactly that bad and probably worse. If he’s not, then that’s not fucking Dracula.

tl;dr: Can people just make some new fun/sexy/antihero vampires instead of stapling Dracula’s name on all of them? Can Dracula just be an interesting villainous monster again?? Please??? (Please save me Renfield 2023 and The Last Voyage of the Demeter, you’re my only ho--)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | May 12th-19th 2024

Had a wonderful long weekend with a friend, what about you guys? Anyone else super nervous about this week's episode? 😅

Complete

all roads lead to eddie diaz by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (S7, BuckTommy, Pre-Buddie | 1,2K | General): eddie and tommy have a revelatory conversation about the buck of it all.

another thing i forced to be a sign by bellabrady (Post-7x07: Ghost of a Second Chance | 2K | Not Rated): Or: Buck finds out about Kim, which leads to him calling Eddie out on the pattern with relationships.

🔥 I hang on every word you say by ColorMeParanoid/ @color-me-paranoid (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): “I couldn’t help but notice how hesitant you’ve been about getting back onto the dating scene despite saying that you’re ready,” Buck said, going for nonchalant and likely missing it by the mile. “I figured a little boost in confidence and a crash course in how to pull off a perfect first date wouldn’t hurt.” Or, the one in which Buck assumes Eddie sucks at dating and decides to do something about it

just release me, i can't take it by actualalligator/ @actualalligator (Post-Lawsuit | 5K | General): After the fight in the grocery store, Buck withdraws the lawsuit and leaves town. Maybe for good.

i'll look after you by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Buck&Chris | 6K | Teen): “You don’t have to kiss it, Mads,” he started telling her around ten years old. Maddie would ruffle his hair and scoff. “Of course I do, punk. How else will it seal the deal?” It was the only comfort he knew. It’s also the only tradition he can pass down to Chris. or: buck and chris building their own set of traditions throughout the years

how forever feels by icesculptures/ @ice-sculptures (Madney Wedding AU, Getting Together | 8K | General): Or: tired of the growing distance between them, Eddie asks Buck to dance at Maddie and Chimney's wedding, healing more than his own heart along the way.

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Not A Firefighter Buck | 22K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

WIP

🔥 some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (Post S7E5 | 2/4 | 11K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 5/6 | 14K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

🔥 stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 5/10 | 39K | Not Rated): Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?

🔥 change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Timeline, Curse/Magic | 11/12 | 26K | Mature): Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 15/? | 126K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

🔥 Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Not A Firefighter Eddie, Sugar Baby Buck | 2/? | 10K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

🔥 Steal My Sunshine by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Altered Memories | 5/9 | 15K | Mature): Memories hazy and unreliable, Eddie Diaz wakes up every morning in a house at the end of a cul de sac, goes to his office job at a petroleum engineering company, and comes home to his wife and son. But something is missing, and the more Eddie begins to put the pieces together, the stranger the predicament he finds himself in. 

Podfic

🔥 [Podfic] maybe i'll be brave enough by then by Silverkat1620/ @silverkat1620 // fic by trippedandfell/ @trippedandfell (Amnesia | 20-30min | Teen): “So,” Eddie starts, taking a long sip. “How long have I had the ring?” Hen chokes on her coffee. “I’m sorry,” she says, eyes wide behind her glasses. “What ring?” or: an amnesia au (with a twist).

🔥 [Podfic] Fire on Fire by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie for extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Quarantine, S4 | 30-45min | Teen): "You’re sleeping with him.” “I’m not—” Eddie rolls his eyes and corrects himself halfway through. “I’m not sleeping with him like that, okay?” Sophia looks at him for a long moment as her gaze turns from teasing to thoughtful. “But you want to be. Right?” [Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.]

🔥 [Podfic] Here, Beneath My Lungs by Itty_Bitty_Blondie for glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (First Kiss | 5K | Teen): “Okay, okay, come on, let’s do this,” Buck says, in a trying-to-be-serious tone that just sets Eddie off again. “Come on, we’re gonna do this right. You need the full Buckley Experience.” “Someone’s confident,” Eddie manages. “I know what I’m good at,” Buck says, and something about the way he says it—grinning and smug with laughter still leaking out of the edges of his smile—makes Eddie go still.

🔥 [podfic] not all of us are heroes (not all of us are brave) by Matriaya // fic by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Getting Together | 45-60min | General): Buck shakes his head and grimaces apologetically at Marisol. "I'm so sorry for interrupting your night," he tells her. "I'm gonna leave you guys to it, but it was nice to see you again." "Nice to see you too," Marisol replies with a smile. "Sorry again," he addresses this one to Eddie. "I didn't think. I just—" "You thought Chris needed you," Eddie says softly, eyes so warm Buck wants to stay here forever. "Don't apologise for that." "Right, well." Buck takes a deep breath to calm his still pounding heart before saluting at Christopher. "Forever at your service, Superman." He backs out of the kitchen in an exaggerated bow, ducking to hide his smile when Christopher's laugh follows him out.

🔥 [podfic] brick by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie // fic by spqr (Post-Coma, S6, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Explicit): The first thing Buck noticed when he walked through the door was the smell of plaster and wet paint. There was a white spot on the wall in the living room, primered but without any color yet, about the size of a man’s fist. Eddie looked sheepish. His knuckles were still bruised, scabbed over but healing. “You were in a coma,” was all he said. “Yeah,” Buck agreed. He knew the feeling.

🔥 [Podfic] I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by MistMarauder/ @mistmarauder for extasiswings/ @extasiswings , letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (S2-3, Friends With Benefits, BDSM | 7-10h | Explicit): When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea. Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right? There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

[therantfairysblog]

Trust

"what?'

The two having a nice tea break after their daily training. Iguro sitting there with him caressing kaburamaru.

"I'm serious, shinazugawa. I feel like, this is it. This whole calmness before a storm, everything is quite unsettling to me. And i think i need to entrusted kaburamaru to someone. I feel like you are really good with animal you know" with his mask hiding his mouth, shinazugawa didn't really captured his expression, but there's really some serene sadness in his voice.

"....well you sure as hell you want me to take care of him as if I'm surely come out alive, what a confident" shinazugawa chuckled.

"Yes I'm sure of it," the seriousness in his tone take him aback. Iguro was always a serious and strict person but he feel that today, he looked like he already make up his mind for something.

"shinazugawa, I'm fine if you want to entrust him to others. Kaburamaru is a good helper, i just don't want him to be lonely" iguro drank his last drop of tea.

"Well...if you said so, plus if i got the mark, I'll probably don't live long anyway,"

Iguro just smiled.

........

He opened up his eyes with the sound of people crying his name. The curse is the one he let out when his dad just simply push him out from death. What a shitty old man.

"shinazugawa sama is waking up! Please checked on him"

He doesn't feel anything. His body hurt like a hell but he feel numb. The final look his brother give him before fading away still stuck in his brain. Perhaps for as long as he live.

His ears hearing the chaos surrounding him. People are dying now huh. Well that shitty demon finally gone so i guess... it's time to pay the price. His eyes grow bigger when one of the kakushi screaming.

"Serpent hashiraa and love hashira over there!!! First aid!!"

"..... I'm so sorry, they both... gone. We late"

"....write their name in the record. Give message to the kasugai crows." The chaos among them keep him awake.

"i see..." shinazugawa mumbling and just like that, he lost another friend, he really didn't know what to feel. Laughing? Crying? His life feel like a joke at that point.

His eyes keep watching the kakushis cleaning up the place, he watch one of them putting a little snake into a box carrier. Kabu...

"Hey you, come here...'

"Shinazugawa sama, yes, please don't force yourself to get up," the kakushi who bring kaburamaru come towards him.

"leave kaburamaru with me... I'll take care of him..."

"...of course, but shinazugawa sama need to be treated first.," the kakushi bring the carrier with kaburamaru in it. Putting it beside him.

"...hey, is there any hashira left ...that kamado guy and his friends...are they okay?" shinazugawa asked silently. Now that's it's over, everything come to his mind. The silent sobbing of the kakushi answering him

"...kamado sama....pulse.... aren't....only Tomioka sama is alive but he is in a bad condition..."

".....i see," his hand reaching out kaburamaru, caressing his little head. The animal looked very distraught. Of course. ' Kabu kun....you are grieving too aren't you...? I'll do my best, you'll not alone..."

"Kaburamaru is my best friend....i hope he'll be happy and live a long life..."

And the world getting dark again. He fall asleep. How he wish this is only a nightmare. How he wish that.

[ponyt4il]

alberto rant

In the midst of a pandemic, major traumatic events, and also being 13 and grieving the loss of childhood, this movie was so incredibly special to me. The first time I watched it I was in my aunts old house, the one my uncle had died in about a week prior.The growing pains were big and large and this movie was a blanket that surrounded me. The movie of an endless summer in italy, all things we couldn’t achieve at that point!! And, my number one favorite character emerged from this movie.

This was all I associated myself with in middle school, i was loud, i was free. Alberto became a character I really attached myself to. I still think he’s one of my favorite characters to this day.

Alberto is loyal, kind, and fearless. Everything a 14 year old is. But he’s also complex. Like how all 14 year olds feel. He’s a fish, and he has some skeletons in his closet. Also has attatchment issues(another 14 year old issue)

I’ve tried desperately to see people talk about him, looking up vidoe essays on youtube, tumblr, any fanfiction site i can get my hands on. It’s all there, but it’s about LUCA. and i could not resent the people in this fandom enough for this. sure , i’ve seen a few theories here and there. but no real good nitty gritty deep dive into a KIDS MOVIE character . yea guys DO BETTER

I’ve seen countless character studies on Luca and how he grows throughout the story. While interesting, it still isn’t alberto to me. And it portrays the exact opposite of what luca is about, in a way, these two push and pull eachother out of dangerous sea for eachother, all simply because they found a friend, all simply because they needed a friend. and didn’t know what else to do with it all. The main pusher is Beto. He always pushes and shoved, luca falls away slowly, but surely. In big gusts does Alberto move. And that’s exactly why I enjoy him too much.

The characterization of this movie is blatant. Every character trait is told in their words, almost like they are made to say it; they hand every shocking truth out for you and leave nothing for the imagination. I see this with all of them. But i see the most in alberto

and it’s not even blantant, tvey created his life and move tn to perfection so that even when he’s not being focused on, you see everything he thinks and feels in an abstract way. He’s watching Luca for half of this show. in a simple story line way, prequsite, rushing action, climax, falling action, aftermath. Hes is a perfect example of simplicity at its finest. He’s just enough, with some waves and a tail to be enough and more.

we know alberto’s motives; to be good, and to be loved. in this order because it’s step one and two for him. We see this mindset emerge in ciao alberto the most, for a parental role. It’s apparent in the movie too, he is un caring, then he clicks, when that love is not retuned, he pulls again. Issues ensue.

This is what makes his character so sad. We see him fall always. And get up in the hands of the ones who pushed him down. Thats love, right? that’s all he knows, more than what he knows. He’s left waiting endlessly. And he’s left fighting endlessly.

In the revile fight scene where Alberto gets beat up, this is a reflection of what he’s feeling. Unwanted, worthless, and Loosing. Luca makes a poor attempt to fight back and it wins, just like how they become friends again. He gets up again. Better and ready to fight. This is the rising action to Alberto’s mind.

The climax is the long awaited betrayal. This betrayal only comes once, but the feeling doenst. When Luca cried sea monster that’s when we fell into Alberto, and not just the snide comments he makes. We’ve seen him fall back from Lucas mind in priority and then we see him fall down to the sea and far from porto rosso. It’s especially sad when the harpoon is thrown. Where he let it happen. HE WOUDLVE LET IT HAPPEN.

There’s a certain blank space in Alberto’s character. That’s his past. The tower scene where it’s revealed his father’s been gone is the intense we feel in this seemingly basic storyline. Left with questions, who is his father? where is his mother? how has he been surviving? What does he feel. The shift on support switches from luca to Alberto fast. And Luca realizes he shouldn’t let friend down so easily.

Alberto’s tower scene is meticulously placed for us to feel more connected to him. And that imagination left to the kid helps you sympathize more, any way you like. He’s one of the best side kicks for this reason. This deep heavy feeling you feel with Alberto as he falls to the bottom of the ocean in lonely grief of loosing. He lost. Again! Fish who called sea monster! We all feel like we’re losing, we all feel like Alberto, tirelessly running for something, someone, anything.

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Propaganda why Evan Hansen is insufferable:

just. oh my god. i cant put it into words. hes horrible im sure the rest of the world can find better ways to explain it than me

he lies to a grieving family about having been their dead son’s best friend. he does a bunch of patently awful things to either keep up this lie or benefit from it. he is portrayed as the good guy oh poor little guy he just has anxiety THE ENTIRE TIME

Lying creep

Lies about having been friends with a suicide victim so he can get in the pants of said victim's sister. The narrative excuses it and gives Evan no consequences for his actions because he's uwu anxious sadboi. What more is there to say? Other than the fact Ben Platt looked far too old to play a teenage boy so the film version is downright disturbing.

Propaganda why Kazuya Kinoshita is insufferable:

Pathetic loser who never grows as a character and drags down the lives of the girls around him because he’s so selfish

Bland boring loser gets a whole bunch of cute girls to actually fall in love with him by being an absolute pissant go away challenge

After his girlfriend dumps him, Kazuya hires a rent-a-girlfriend (basically a sex worker without the actual sex) to accompany him on a date. They have a great time together and go their separate ways. Afterwards when he goes to leave a review, he sees all the other good reviews and gets jealous because she's being hired by other men, and leaves a one-star review out of spite. This is his starting point and he barely gets better, constantly making his personal issues other people's problem.

More propaganda

[twothpaste]

earthbound old man tier list

S Tier: Doctor Andonuts. idc what anyone says, he is a fascinating bewilderful tragic morally dubious rubiks cube of a character, and if i think about him for longer than 10 seconds i get so emo i wanna dye my hair black and run away into the woods. he is also very funny. i would squash him like putty.

A Tier: Wess. mother 3 wouldn't be mother 3 without Wess and i'm not kidding. i love how he is written as both a terrifying abusive father and also a genuinely wise antifa ally, the duality of humanity or whatever. a bunch of his lines still give me chills to this day. especially [ this one ]

Leder as well. absolute fucking real one. imagine taking a vow of silence for the rest of your life to protect your beloved community, none of whom even can remember the sacrifices you've made for them, singlehandedly bearing a lifetime of unfathomable trauma to spare them theirs. he is atlas with the planet earth on his shoulders. yet another character who turns my brains into spaghetti-os.

B Tier: George is one of the most intriguing characters in the series. Boy, I wish Itoi took the time to actually Write him!!! so many questions, so little canon material, but my imagination does drive me a bit to madness with this guy I fear.

C Tier: the fuck do you mean Geldegarde Monotoli was super wicked evil under Giygas' influence, kidnapped Paula, took over Cartoon New York with sheer capitalist ruthlessness - then as soon as you break the Mani Mani statue he's like -tiny bichon frise sneeze- "ouuugghhh goodness gracious i'm so sorry, i don't know what came over me, i am so harmless and frail and made of pudding also" -little pekingese cough- and Paula is like "don't worry ness 👧 he was just a sweet old man all along lol!!!" nvm it's pretty funny actually

Grandpa Alec goes in C Tier too. imo he's well written in chapter 1. his reaction to grief feels really off-kilter in a strangely human & believable way, like?? he is snapping at Lucas and immediately feeling remorse, cracking jokes to try and assure Flint (and himself) everything is ok when it clearly isn't, kooky silly and also unsettling at the same time. i think people forget that he's also a messy clumsy maladjusted grieving dad, just like Flint. but after chapter 1 he kinda falls off, doesn't have much interesting to say or add to the story. i find myself kinda wishing Lucas had a closer relationship to his grandpa implied post-timeskip… oh well.

is Jonel old? his sprite doesn't look ancient but considering his attitude & his adult kids I imagine him to be in his 60's probably. i like that he's a bit of an asshole, and his moment at the prayer sanctuary implies a religious aspect to the village that's super intriguing… iirc he has a line all the way in New Pork where he trash talks Flint for still holding out hope & tryin to find Claus, and it's like?? damn, Jonel, a cunt to the bitter end!! gotta love that.

likewise Mayor Pusher is one of those Tazmily villagers who really highlights how fake & callous some of these people can be. i love the part toward the end of chapter 7 where he blabbers about how much he hates this hick town and he's so eager to leave already, and when he catches Lucas eavesdropping iirc he's rude as ever to him. what a douchebag! no wonder his son is so depressed ❤️

Nippolyte is a benign real one and I like him, even though there's not much to him.

wish Scamp did or said literally anything of note before dying. oh well

D Tier: yeah fuck Mr. Carpainter though. i don't believe for a second he was solely driven to become a cult leader by alien brainwashing alone, dude's gonna be on some MLM shit within a year mark my words

??? Tier: i don't consider Mother 3 Porky an old man, i consider him Very a forever thirteen year old trapped in a sickly grotesque disproportionaltely aging body. but if you do consider him an old man, he's in the stratosphere tier blowing up the moon

[darling-i-read-it]

Sorry

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: mw2 spoilers, spoilers for the new packs and online campaigns and things, (me knowing NOTHING about the military. I just be googling words. I am very sorry if they are wrong! I also didn’t play the online stuff so I had to read on that too. So much work for u philip), the reader leaving price and ghost behind technically, grief, heavy insinuation to smut, VIOLENCE like a lot. Reader kills people and has a mini extensional crisis about it, let me know if I missed anything! 

Author’s Note: me: i’m so normal about him.  Also me: writes a six thousand word fanfiction about my delusions 

Summary: You and Phil had been together when he ‘died’ in the tank. You’ve been grieving him ever since, not knowing he was still out there. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When he was up in the air, sometimes Phil Graves thought about home. He thought about the way the air felt in the south. The heavy humidity of a late night around a fire with family and friends. His childhood home, a two story house with some land. The feeling of flannels over his shoulders, wind against his face when he rode the truck late at night, stupid country songs playing through the radio. He only let himself have these moments briefly. When he was up in the air and everyone was quiet with anticipation. No one wanted to talk about the moments before a descent, the seconds before disaster. 

That was when he let himself think of home. 

He thought of the world he used to call his own. He loved his job and he thought he was doing good with it. But sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened had he stayed back after high school, instead of hoping on the military like it was a moving train. 

Whoever that was, he was gone now. 

Shadow 0-1. Commander. That’s who he was now. That’s who he was always meant to be. That’s who he had been when he betrayed 141’s trust. That’s who he was when he got out of it. That’s who blew up in the tank in South America. That’s who misses you. 

“You good boss?” Phil snapped out of his thoughts. He nodded once. 

“Golden, Sparks. Thinking about dinner when we get back tonight.” 

“You makin barbecue?” 

“I sure am. Got a damn fine steak to cook.” 

“You really oughta have more get-togethers, like old times.” Phil gave his subordinate a thin lipped smile. He fondly remembered the times when he would bring his closer soldiers around, cook for them, listen to shitty music, drink beers. In the back of his eyelids he could see you, handing him the tongs, making a joke about his dad barbeque. He would tease you about children. 

He had stopped having them after the mission where he left some behind. He hadn’t wanted to; the strain in his voice was clear. But he had. 

“Maybe when I’m legally back from the dead,” he countered. Sparks chuckled and Graves stood up. It was far better to be back in the commanding position with his guys, the same ones who would follow him into fire. It distracted him from the rest of it. The house he lost, the home he no longer had. 

He had this. 

-

You brushed your hair out of your face. You messed with the glass in your hand, rolling it around the ring on the wooden table. The ice had melted into the alcohol, making it watery and less effective. It was cold outside, fall finally taking hold. You were wearing a thin jacket that seemed useless. 

This drink was Phil’s regular. You remembered it like the back of your hand, ordering it when he was caught up behind the crowds. It tasted like his lips after a long night out. It was warm, like his breath on your skin. 

“You listinin’?” You lifted your head. You had been staring at your half drank glass. Simon Riley’s eyes met yours. They were objectively beautiful. You would never understand why he kept them mostly covered up. 

“Yeah. Sorry.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought. What were you saying?” 

“I was asking what you thought about Price going back out there so soon.” 

“You of all people know what it’s like to be married to your work.” 

“You aren’t irked he’s going without you?” His accent was thick. It was rare to get him to talk like this but you had known each other so long, it felt ormal now. He seemed unnatural when he clammed up in missions. 

You shook your head. 

“I’ll get back into it,” you told him. You cleared your throat. His eyes narrowed down, staring at you. His long face felt threatening, though you knew better. You stared back at him, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“How many times does Soap have to apologize for you to get over it?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. 

“Stuff it Simon.” 

“I won’t. It’s been a year. We’ve given you your time, we’ve apologized, we’ve been nice and cordial about it. You need to realize who Graves was and that what happened to him was warranted. There’s only so many times we can spell it out for you before we stop babying you.” As he spoke, your head continued to shake. It felt like the words were rattling around in your brain, bouncing off your skull. He was right, you knew that. But the words still stung.  

“You don’t understand,” you protested. He cut you off. 

“I know I don’t. You’ve told me.” You leaned back in your chair, your glass landing with a light clang. “Love,” he muttered, leaning forward. “It’s time.” 

You wished you could be done with it. You wished that his words could will all the pain to subside. You wished you didn’t have to suck it up when Soap followed Phil to the tank and blew it up. You wished you could forget about the moment you held your tongue, knowing that if you spoke up you would be a traitor too. You wished everything was different.

You didn’t want it to hurt anymore. You didn’t want to wake up and think he was next to you, even now. It got better as the time passed but it never fully went away. You knew it was never going to subside completely, always stuck to you like a stain you couldn’t get out. 

“I’m trying,” you promised. “I’m trying.” 

“You need to come to the next one.” Everytime you put on a headset you could hear Soap's words. Graves is KIA. How’s Price? He moved past it with such grace you almost missed it the first time. 

“I’ll try.” 

“You need to do more than that.” You swallowed hard. 

“I know.” -

“I’m glad you’re here.” Price's voice was low but gentle. Careful. Like you were an object that would break if he spoke to you the wrong way. 

“Me too,” you said, nodding. Your voice sounded fake and you knew it. You only agreed to this because you knew you had to. You had Price here and Ghost promised he would do all the heavy lifting. It would be nothing. The men you trusted would have your back when you flew out to enemy territory. “You didn’t have to lobby for me, you know.” You had become a liability the second Graves became a traitor. The already rocky relationship with the Shadows was broken clean in half. You were a problem now. 

“I wanted to. You’re one of my best shooters.” 

“Did Simon tell you to?” 

“He gently nudged me.” He had his helmet on, the strap under his chin. It had been a while since you saw him in uniform. 

“Where are we going again?”

“You should really read the debriefs.” You shrugged. You used to, religiously. You would tell Phil classified information like it was pillow talk. He would give it back to you after coffee in the morning. You cleared your throat. 

“I do. I just trust you more than the papers,” you joked halfheartedly. 

“Don’t worry too much. It’s all scouting, no shooting.” 

“Why’re you bringing me and Ghost then?” 

“I like hanging out with you guys.” You laughed, this time for real. He gestured forward. “Let’s head out.” 

-

You could only see the blocks of land below you in the plane. You wondered who was living in the little houses the size of dots. You wondered if they were happy. You could feel the sweat piling in your uniform. 

“There’s some guns held in a storage facility. They shouldn’t be heavily guarded but will be servilenced,” Price said. He spoke above the noise in the plane, loud and rumbling. “Ghost, you’ll go ahead. I’ll be down there outside the building, watching your six. Y/L/N, you’re up here on guns.” 

“It’s boring up here,” you complained. “Can’t I come with you guys?” 

“We need you on your A game to be on the ground,” Ghost said, coldly. You gave him a look but couldn’t read his expression with the mask. Price was avoiding your eyeline on purpose, you could feel it. It almost felt like a fake mission, something to get you back out there without putting you in real danger. Though you were vaguely insulted, it was nice to know they cared. You tried to shove your feelings aside. 

“Alright,” you said finally. “Fine.” 

“You’re good on guns,” Price said. “An Eagle eye will ensure everyone's safety.” 

“I already said alright Price,” you said as gently as you could manage. The plane started to slow down to a hover. Price stood up, using the railing above to steady himself. 

“You ready?” Simon questioned, coming up behind you as you stood up. You nodded once. Muscle memory would kick in before your panic would. Everything would be fine. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” 

Ghost gave you one last pat on the back before he walked towards the back of the plane. You watched him go, his hand on his side, looped around his belt. Price followed behind. He turned back to look at you, the wind rushing towards the front. You tried to keep your face neutral, professional. Your bones ached with familiarity. This was okay. This would be okay. 

You turned towards the guns. The plane had a designated corner for them, buttons lining the walls. You zoomed in on the house that was holding the guns, turning it to infrared. You sat down at the chair, leaning over it. You didn’t need to put on all your gear to push some buttons but you refrained from complaining. 

“You hear me clear up there?” Ghost’s voice came through your ear piece. 

“Yes sir. Loud and clear.” You could see Ghost’s little figure as he landed. “I’m seeing two hostels outside of the building. On either side of the doors, they both have guns.” “Roger,” Ghost said. You followed his heat signature. Price had also made his way to the ground.

“What’s the house looking like?” he asked. You moved your camera along, narrowing in on the building. You could see men walking. Patrolling. You couldn’t help but wonder how many guns were being held there. The building was larger than Price made it seem. Were they in the heart of the building, with the clump of men? 

“Lots,” you admitted. 

“Give me a ballpark,” Price responded. You could see Ghost down there, taking out the men. He was always quick with it. Sometimes you forgot that the man you shared drinks with was a cold blooded murderer. You would not want to be at the other end of his knife. 

“Ten upstairs. Can’t tell how many downstairs. Probably 20?”

“That’s quite a few people for some guns,” Ghost chimed in. 

“No kidding,” you muttered. “I can see some on the balcony. I’m ready to hit whenever Cap.” 

“Roger,” Price responded. You went to hone in, aiming just in case Ghost needed back up quicker than you could aim.

The plane jerked right, causing you to lose focus. You cursed, shutting one eye to get a clearer view. You painlessly lined it back up. Just as you had it, the plane jerked again. 

“Hey man!” you called to the front. “Steady!”

“You seein this?” the pilot called. You turned back towards the infrared. Ghost hadn’t made it inside yet. You got out of your chair and pushed aside the door to the cockpit. Through the large window you could see another plane making its way towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How could someone know you were here? 

“Enemy plane?” you asked. 

“Not on any paths,” he admitted. “I’m willing to bet.” You quickly pivoted back towards the infrared. 

“Hey boys, we got some company up here.” 

“We need to secure this area,” Price said. His voice had gone rough. Professional now.

“If they’ve got more men, we aren’t securing shit,” you told him. 

“I’m going through the downstairs,” Ghost added. With his voice you could hear gunshots and commotion. You cursed and sat back down. 

“Do I have permission to shoot Price?” 

“Yes,” he responded, quickly. You pushed down on the trigger, taking out the men on the balcony. They fell with ease. You looked back towards the cockpit. The plane was only getting closer. You could hear the pilot trying to contact it, like it was a civilian plane. The menacing figure loomed in the air. 

“How much longer?” you asked. 

“Five minutes,” Ghost responded. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “We don’t have five minutes.” 

“Make five minutes.” You stood back up and went back to the cockpit. You put your hand on the chairs. 

“It’s an AC-130,” the pilot called. “Military.” 

“I’m going down,” you yelled. “Get me down there.” There was little protest from the pilot. You grabbed your gun off the chair. The back hatch lowered. The wind rushed towards you. The air was threatening with how fast it blew. It was like the whole world was going to be sucked into the plane. 

You took a deep breath. Life or death. Your friends would die if you didn’t do something. 

You turned back towards your safe spot in the plane. It looked more dangerous by the second. Each moment you hesitated was a moment wasted. 

You turned back towards the entrance. You grabbed the leftover parachute and buckled it tightly. 

And you jumped. 

There was a moment of sheer panic. You forgot the reason you were in the air, you just knew you were freefalling. You were rushing towards the hard ground, towards the sound of gunfire. Everything felt fake for about ten seconds. 

Then you pulled on the parachute line and drifted towards the ground. 

“What’re you doing down here?!” Ghost said in your ear. You wondered if he could see you through the window. 

“Helping!” you called back. Price was right. You were one of his best shooters, handicapped or not. You rushed forward, shielding yourself with a large rock. You looked down at the gun, the familiar feeling in your hand. You took a deep breath, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready. Then you turned around and started to shoot. 

There was so much going on that it was almost simple. You couldn't focus on one thing so you tried to just breathe. Each shot was a breath. You didn’t think about how that was a person's life. Each shot a family member, a father, a sister. You forgot all of that as you focused on your breathing and your aiming. 

“They’re deploying from the plane!” Price said in your ear. You still had no idea where he had gone. 

“We should call for backup!” you said back. “Gaz’ll be here in twenty minutes!” 

“Soap is closer,” Ghost said. He was in the house. You could tell by the amount of silence around him. He must have cleared the floor. 

“Call someone!” you yelled. Price’s voice started to drone on but you didn’t pay much attention. You moved closer to the house, sticking close to cover. Blood was smearing your clothes now. How many people were here? How many people would come? 

You looked up at the enemy plane. There had been a constant train of people but now they were slowly diminishing. 

You came to a startled stop beside a body that had landed next to cover. You reloaded, your back against the wood, your eyes looking towards the body without thinking. Your head snapped back up but when it registered something familiar, it looked back at the body. 

You kneeled all the way down. Your fingers brushed a Shadows patch, engraved on the lifeless soldiers' clothing. Your head started to blur. You hadn’t seen that symbol in months. Its patchwork was now smeared with blood, likely your doing. You ripped off the soldier's helmet. 

You recognized him. 

Sparks. He had come over for a barbecue. He helped Phil cook. The taste of brisket hit your tongue. The smell of a campfire. 

You scampered onto the ground, almost falling over to get away from him. The sounds of gunfire started to muffle. Your breathing grew ragged. Was someone speaking? You held your gun tightly, like it was the only thing holding you to the ground. Was that Price’s voice? You looked around, the sun suddenly blaring. You should’ve come at night. There were clouds. How dare there be clouds when people were dying? You wanted Simon. You wanted Phil. 

Someone came around your cover. You raised your gun, a fumble really. You raised it to the soldier in front of you, finger on the trigger, fully intending to shoot. The man in front of you had halted completely. His gun stayed on you, capable of killing you easily, but it remained. He had a helmet on. The glare of the sun covered his face. 

Your hands were still shaking. 

Suddenly things felt very quiet. A subtle movement of the soldier revealed a glimpse of his face. A face you knew very well. 

It all flashed in your mind. His morning snoring, the shitty dad jokes, his guttural laughter. The sound of his truck starting. His mom’s phone number. The first thing you bought for your shared apartment. The taste of his lips. The feeling of his hands on your skin. HIs eyes in the moonlight. The feeling that you could never shake when he died. 

He turned and ran. You stood up. You gathered your bearings and followed him, almost slipping on yourself to do so. He couldn’t get very far. People were shooting at you but you had him as a cover. You shoved him down and disarmed him. It usually wouldn’t have been easy to do. Maybe he let it happen. You pulled his collar so you could land behind a discarded car. He struggled against you as you ripped off his helmet completely, disconnecting whatever comm he was using. 

His hands reached forward for yours and he took it off, not even bothering to unbuckle your chin strap. His touch felt like a ghosts. The same calloused hands that promised you the world. Your eyebrows furrowed, recognition in your eyes. You reached forward, not thinking. You cupped his face, your fingers sprawled on his cheek and neck. 

“Phil?” you whispered. He couldn’t hear you over the commotion but he could read your lips. He knew what his name looked like coming from your mouth. 

He didn’t know you were going to be here. If he had, he never would have come. He can’t do this, he can’t blow his cover like this. He had been told maybe Price would make an appearance but you had been out of the field since his death. He was breathing heavily. He couldn’t come near you because he would cave. It was hard enough being without you, checking his phone like you would text him. 

“Y/L/N?! Y/N!” Your comm was going insane. It was on the ground though, forgotten. 

He was alive. Phillip was alive. His face was there and it was moving, all flesh and blood. You never thought you would see him again except in pictures and videos, ones where you had memorized all his movements. 

“Phillip Graves?”

“Yeah baby. Yeah.” His voice was quiet, like he was in disbelief too. You fought the tears rising to your eyes.

“How..how are you here?”

“Long story. “

“I wanna hear it.” 

“Your men are shooting my men right now,” he said, like it was a minor inconvenience. 

You snapped back into reality. Suddenly all the sounds became crystal clear again. Time resumed. You grabbed your comm and put it to your ear. 

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” you said. 

“Come back with me,” Phil said quickly. 

“What?” He grabbed your comm, putting it in his back pocket.. You reached for it like a child, even letting out a gentle unintentional whimper. 

“Come back with me,” he repeated. “Get in my plane.”

“You’re dead. You died in a tank in South America!” 

“You should know MacTavish couldn’t take me out.” He cupped your face with both his hands. You had never felt something so good. “Quickly. Yes or no.” 

He dreaded a no. He knew Shepherd would have you killed or kidnapped. You couldn’t go back to your friends, knowing what you now knew. They could come up with a retaliation before Graves had even gotten on his feet again. 

You had been waiting months for him to come back to you. The answer, despite your morals and your stress, seemed to slip off your tongue easily. 

“Yes. Yes I’ll go with you.” He smiled, a genuine smile, covered in dirt and grime. 

“C’mon baby. Follow me.” He put his comm back in his ear and grabbed your hand. He held it tightly, like you would slip away. “I’m going back up. How’re we lookin?”

“Significant casualties. The shooter on the edge is killing us.”

“I got her,” he responded. He looked back towards you and you both stood up. He nodded towards the plane, which still had the latter hanging down. “The guns?” 

“The house is being defended. We haven’t been able to break through.” 

“We can’t afford to lose those. Do what you have to.” He held your hand tightly, dragging you through the battlefield. You passed those that had died in the rubble. You wondered if you had been the cause. Your head was spinning, looking towards the house. You couldn’t even think yet, things were going so fast. All you knew was Phil and his hand in yours. 

He grabbed your hips, helping you onto the first step of the ladder. 

“I’m comin back up,” he said into his comm. “Someones ahead of me, foreign. Do not shoot. I repeat, do not shoot.” There was a muffled reply. He climbed all the way to the top with you, helping you up onto the plane floor. You pulled yourself up and stood in the middle of the hanger. There was barely anyone left up there. You looked towards the window. 

Price. Simon. 

You had left them. You hadnt’ meant to. You hadn’t even thought for longer than a moment about it. You put your hand flush against the glass, looking down. You wanted them to make it out okay. They would surely think you had died. 

You hadn’t thought this through. 

Your favorite ghost had returned and asked you to go to hell with him. You hadn’t even thought.

“Price. Ghost,” you said, quickly. You turned to Graves, panicked. “Let them go. Don’t hurt them.” 

“I need those guns.” You had heard his work voice before, the slur between charming and serious. At that moment, his voice was all game. He was giving you an order. 

“I need them to live.” 

“They shouldn’t have come.”

“I came.” Phil pursed his lips, chewed the inside of his cheek. He looked towards the pilot and the men still in the plane. Your eyes were back out the front window, seeing the plane you had just come out of. You had just been there, standing in that cockpit. The feeling was eerie, tingling in the back of your neck. “Phil please.” 

Graves thought for a moment. He looked towards you, your pleading puppy dog eyes. He could see you in the morning, when he said goodbye before work. He could see your back in the bathroom mirror, foggy from a shower. Your favorite cereal on his taste buds. The way you had your coffee. 

“We’re losing numbers down here!” a voice came in his ear. He looked back down towards the house. Ghost was taking his men out one by one. Price was likely sneaking behind them, sniping from somewhere. 

But Phil was a proud man. He wasn’t going to let those people die for no reason. 

“Those men are dead down there,” he said, evenly. He approached you. His hand gripped your arm. “They can’t have died for nothing.” 

“Let me call them off. Give me something to call them off,” you pleaded. He groaned in retaliation but gave you your comm back. You put it in your ear.

“I’m getting overwhelmed here!” Ghost exclaimed. 

“Get out of there! Get out of there!” you said, desperately. You turned back to the window. “There’s too many of them. They keep coming.” 

“She’s right,” Price said, voice gruff. “We need an exit. Soap is on his way.”

“To help?” 

“Not enough manpower right now. We have to take this loss.” You could practically hear Ghost’s annoyance. He had done all this and it would’ve been for nothing? He groaned. You stood there, deathly still. “Get to the southside of the building,” Price demanded. “Both of you.” You looked back at Phil, who was staring eagerly. You nodded once. He patted your back, turning back to the pilot. 

“Set up post.” 

-

Some men made their way back up to the plane. Others stayed down below to hold down the fort. The ones you recognized starred as they passed you, sitting in the front seat, just behind Graves. He made no comment on you being there. Didn’t talk on the way back to base. 

He knew he would have to face Shepherd about it. He just happened to figure he would win. Shepherd couldn't do shit with the Shadows until Graves got back. He was useful and he was a good soldier. Breaking this rule would be okay, he was sure of it. 

You followed him onto the tarmac, your body close to him. The plane landed unceremoniously. People gently spoke about their win. Most mourned their losses. No one had managed to get it in their head that you had probably killed their best friend. Most everyone just ogled you in confusion. 

“We’re going back to my room,” he explained. You wanted an explanation. You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream. 

“Okay.” 

He led you through the twisting turns of the facility. You had never been in the Shadows main buildings before. They were high tech and likely dangerous. 

Graves opened the door to his room. It was larger than the others, for being the Commander. He didn’t have to sleep in bunks or share a room when he was on base. He had called you from this room dozens of times. The phone he used had been crushed, unable to receive anything. He missed it. It had all the pictures of the two of you. 

The door clicked shut behind you. You wanted to fight him but in the moment, you could only melt. You wrapped your arms around him and he held onto you for dear life. His touch was fiery and aggressive. He was digging his fingers into your sides, breathing in the scent of your hair. He had missed you so much. More than he had been able to let on. He never wanted to live without you again. 

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered. You hadn’t realized the tears had steadily made their way back until you felt them on your cheeks. Graves had his face buried deep into your neck. “I mourned you.” 

“I know baby,” he muttered against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” 

He was crying. When was the last time you had seen him cry? He sniffled, though he tried to make it subtle. He pulled back, turning away to rub his eyes. You grabbed his shoulders, not letting him. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly. Speaking any louder than a whisper seemed like a crime. 

“Shepherd.” 

“You weren’t in the tank?” He shook his head. You let out a sigh of relief, despite the horrors you had been through over the months you had believed he was in there. He grabbed your hand. 

“I never wanted to leave you,” he promised. His eyes were red, stuffy. He wasn’t sobbing but there were clearly tears forcing their way through his hard exterior. “I did it because I thought it would keep you safe. It would keep you out of the way.” 

“You’ve just been out there?” you asked, voice hinting of betrayal. It broke his heart. 

“Missing you every second of every day.” 

“Did you know where I was?” 

“I wasn’t allowed on missions with you confirmed to be in it. It was supposed to be Price, maybe Ghost, maybe Soap today. It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

“I was a last minute addition.” 

“And thank God for that.” His hands were staying on you, lingering. “Bringing you back was selfish,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t leave you again.” 

“When they told me you were dead,” you started, swallowing your emotions. “I couldn’t eat for a week. Simon had to come force me. I had to pack up all your clothes in the closet, give them to your mother. I had to go to your funeral, the funeral of a federal traitor. I had to see the man who killed you everyday in the hallway,” you spilled. Your voice felt fluid. “I had to..I had to tell Price I was getting better when I wasn’t. I had your drink every time I went to the bar. I haven’t had barbeque in months. I had to go on shitty first dates with people Soap set me up with. I slept in your flannel. I..all my plants died.” 

Phil’s voice was quiet. He was pleading, lips wet. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He tried to grab your hands. Ground you. You let him. You stared at him, breathing heavily, reliving every moment you had without him. “I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t…I can’t do that again.”

“Me neither. Trust me.” You both were still covered in blood and dirt. You could feel the grime between your fingers. You could see the muck on his face, his perfect face. You put your hand on his cheek. 

“Promise me.” 

“I promise. I swear to God,” he whispered. 

And you kissed him. 

And things had never felt so right. 

His lips were frenzied, desperate. He had never tasted something so good in his life. You were all he had been craving, every moment of every day. His hands were practically shaking as he touched you. Long lost was his Commander front. He was just Phil. 

You hadn’t been so desperate for him since you first had him. Your anguish pushed forward onto his skin, holding him as close as you could get him. He tasted like beer and cologne and dirt. 

Phil turned you on your heels so he could sit down on the bed. You straddled him, hands cupping his face, running through his hair. You were both too bulky for this kind of making out. You hadn’t stripped of any gear, still wearing weapons of mass destruction. You pulled away, to verbalize this, but he spoke first. 

“Baby I need you. I need you,” he breathed. He kissed you chastly. “Please don’t stop.”

He used to hold back his pleading. He thought it made him look weak in front of you, unattractive. But he couldn’t do it now, when his defenses had been long shattered. 

“We need to take all this off,” you said. You looked down into his eyes. They were so beautiful and needy that it hurt your chest. You kissed his lips again, as a promise. “We gotta take off the grenades at least.” He chuckled. He had forgotten all about that. You brushed his hair back, out of his face. “Phil,” you muttered. “Philllip Graves,” you mumbled, a borderline moan. He groaned in need. 

“Quickly. Quicker than that.” You laughed. It was the first time you had heard your laugh in months. It was genuine and filled with life. It felt good. You slid off him and started to strip. 

He studied you with such intense eyes it felt like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. 

-

You almost couldn’t fall asleep. You traced his features with your gaze, even with his closed eyes. The scar on his cheek. You traced it lightly with your finger. His hair was still wet from the shower. You had both slipped and slid around the bathroom, limbs remaining intertwined. He had made it a point to always be starring or always be touching. You were his. You would never be anyone else's. 

He had an arm lazily around your side. You had so much to worry about, so much to do. Were you technically behind enemy lines? What would happen when you woke up in the morning?

Phillip groaned and pulled you closer, smushing you against his chest. 

“Woah there cowboy,” you whispered. He smiled, eyes still closed. 

“You remember when you used to take my hat?” he asked fondly. You did. The cowboy hat rule. If you wear his hat, you ride the cowboy. You giggled, nodding against the pillow.

“I do.”

“We should do that again.”

“We can do whatever you want,” you told him. “Whatever you want.” He nodded. 

“Go to sleep. I’ll figure it out in the mornin.” He put his chin on your head. “I got you.” You believed him. 

You hadn’t had such a good sleep since he died, exhaustion over taking your body and forcing you into darkness. 

[dollwrites]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ fem!justice league!reader, ghost!hal ( spectre ), angst, mentions of parallax, mentions of death and grieving and suicidal thoughts/tendencies, violence against reader, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ dancing with your ghost by sasha alex sloan

the coffee was cold and bitter.

but then again: so were you.

you finish the cup and set it on the table in front of you, sighing.

you hadn’t slept since you don’t remember when— at least not real sleep. it wasn’t the same as passing out from exhaustion for fifteen minutes at a time upon a pile of newspaper clippings, only to wake up screaming for Hal.

no, not screaming for him. screaming for him to stop.

you’d wanted to get through to him so badly that you’d put the entire League in peril to do so. you thought that if you could just look into his eyes, you could bring him back to the old Hal. your Hal. instead of this awful Parallax he now claimed to be.

you’d been wrong.

you glance down at your hands as you wiggle life back into your fingers— your knuckles were bloody and bruised; cracked open from too much training and too much vigilante justice. they’d all tried to get you to slow down, but none more than Oliver. Arrow still tracked you, and stepped in when you were going to do something extremely foolish. as much as you fought against him, he refused to let you go.

“They’re getting away!” you remember so vividly screaming it over the sound of thunder crashing and the rain that peppered your face as Arrow pinned you to the rooftop, holding your arms down by the wrists. for as wildly as you fought, his strength outmatched yours.

“Let them go,” he’d barked back, tightening his grip when you’d writhed, “there’s too many of them. You can’t take them down by yourself. You’re not even wearing your gear—“

“Who cares—“

“I care!” Oliver had screamed, pushing you back down when you bucked to get up. you stutter, startled by the break in his voice. you’d known Arrow for as long as you’d been in the Justice League, obviously, but the real bonding had been after Hal’s death. with Barry not around to fall back on, you’d been worried that you’d lean on OlIver until it broke him right along with you, so you’d pulled back. he was a persistent bastard, though, and he never let you get too far. “They’re armed to the teeth. Machine guns. You can’t just punch your way through a militia.They’ll kill you if you go after them alone,” you open your mouth to say something, but when no noise comes out, Queen keeps going, “that may not mean anything to you but it does to me. Hal would never forgive me if I let you do something this reckless.”

you wanted to cry, but your tears had long since dried up. so you choked on the words. “Hal’s dead.”

it hurt Oliver, too, for those words to come out. as you struggled to push them free from your lips, he winced, as if they drove themselves into his heart. “But you’re not.” he countered after a moment of silently pleading with his eyes. he wanted you to feel something so badly, and yet all you felt was guilt that you couldn’t feel anything at all. “Hal was my best friend.” it went without saying that he loved Hal, and so did you, but he uttered the words anyways. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you’re all that I really have left of the guy. I can’t lose you, too. Not after I swore to him I’d keep you safe. When my time comes, I will look him in the eyes and tell him I kept my promise.”

you stare at him, quiet, considering each word carefully. had Hal been himself enough in his dying moments for Ollie to make such a promise, or had Ollie spoken his intentions into the sky after Hal fell? did it really matter?

thinking about that night on the rooftop with Oliver, you reached up to gingerly caress the power ring that hangs from a silver chain around your neck, most of the time hidden by the neckline of your top, but not tonight. the ring rests right against your heart. you hadn’t even known Hal had given it to Oliver until that night, when he’d placed it on your finger. nothing happened, but Arrow said it was because he’d never attempted to charge it. he was too afraid of the power, he didn’t think he could wield it. you felt almost the same way.

John offered to charge it for you, too, but you refused. it wasn’t yours to wield. it was Hal’s. you wouldn’t try to pick up where he left off. you just wanted something of his to remember him.

right now, you get up and stumble over to the window, kicking old coffee cups and fast food wrappers. you really should take better care of yourself, it was what everyone was telling you, but you rarely found the time or energy to eat at all. it didn’t matter to you what it was, it didn’t taste very good, anyways. nothing did. so, whatever was fast and easily accessible usually won out. there’s a slight limp on your right side, as putting too much pressure down when walking would irritate what you expected was a fracture somewhere between your knee and your thigh— due to falling out of a third story window a few days before.

from your viewpoint, you could see most of the city, and you press your palm to the glass. it was a quiet night, which you hated, now. the silence. it was like it taunted you. at the very least, if you were kicking some bad guy ass, you could focus on the sound of his jaw breaking against your hand, or his ribs cracking under your knee. you didn’t have to think. just punch.

but when there was no one to hurt, no one to bring down, you started to collapse into yourself. think about Hal. try to imagine the way he used to smile when he said your name, as if the syllables themselves were enough to make him giddy. you hated yourself for starting to forget what his voice sounded like.

you’d tried, desperately, to hold on to that memory by calling his phone over and over, just to hear his voicemail.

Hey, you’ve reached Hal Jordan. I’m super busy right now, probably doing something really cool like, I don’t know, saving the freakin’ world so I can’t pick up. If you’ve got this number, then you probably know that already. Leave a message, and I’ll try to find some time to get back atcha, ya know, once I’m done with the whole superhero thing.

you’d heard it dozens of times, but it was never enough. and then, finally, the number was disconnected. as if the final shred of him was erased, and all you were left with was memories.

but memories fade, and you feared his would, too.

a battalion of police cars, all lit up, scream down the highway in front of your building, and the sirens pull you from your thoughts of Hal. staring at the direction the flashing lights mesh into, you bite down on your lip.

you shouldn’t go.

you were still healing from the last fight.

“Sorry, Ollie.” you whisper to no one but yourself, as you limp over to your gear across the room. he would have to get tired of chasing you around eventually, trying to be your safety net all the time. he wouldn’t have to tell Hal anything, because you’d decided you’d reunite with him first. you’d explain everything as soon as you were safely in his arms.

you were zipping up your combat boots when you hear his voice, and you freeze. “Let the cops handle this one.”

you stare down at the toes of your boots, worn and mud-covered. you’d stopped keeping your gear as clean as you used to. that’s not all. your feet were not the only two you were looking at. focused on the second set, those heavy, brown boots that you knew so well. they’d been left forgotten by your bedroom door much too often to forget. now, they meet faded denim jeans at the ankle. “H—Hal…?”

you didn’t want to look up, terrified that you would be alone. terrified that you were simply hearing things. seeing things.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he answers, and a familiar sensation of his hand slipping under your chin, fingers curling to tilt your head up, overwhelms you. they’re the same shape as Hal’s, but they’re freezing cold. your lower lip tremors as you force yourself to look up. “I thought it would only confuse you or hurt you. I just really wanted to see you. I’m sorry that I’m selfish that way.”

he was here.

Hal was really here, standing in front of you. he wasn’t clad in his Green Lantern suit, or that horrible Parallax costume. he was standing before you in his jeans, a faded blue button down, and his dad’s brown pilot jacket. the one he always wore.

“Hal.” you could only say his name, because other than that, nothing mattered. you didn’t care why he was there or how it was possible— you only cared that he was. “Hal...” it’s a cry as you fling yourself into his arms, bury your face in his chest. he was solid, because he caught you and wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you close to him. he wasn’t an illusion.

“I miss you,” he whispers into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I miss you holding me like this.”

for the first time in a long time, you feel a lump in your throat, and a tickle against your tear ducts. “You can’t stay.” you mutter. he didn’t have to say it, you knew Hal. the way he squeezed you extra tight when he didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” he admits, pulling back. he presses his cool forehead to yours and urges you to look up at him, “bad things happen when I’m around. I can’t control it. There’s this… thing inside of me, calls itself The Spectre. When I’m here, I hurt people.”

“Here.” you repeat the word, looking up into his eyes. they looked like Hal’s deep, mahogany eyes. you couldn’t imagine anything malicious lurking behind them.

but then again, you’d faced Parallax.

Hal looks around the humblest of apartments, and you can feel the concern radiating from his baritone as he murmurs, “Baby…” his gaze traipses every discarded coffee cup before it falls back on you, and he reaches up, caressing your cheek, “When’s the last time you slept?”

you melt into the caress— you didn’t care how cold it was, and clapped your hand over his to keep it there. “I don’t know,” you admit, sheepish. “I might be asleep right now. Dreaming all of this. You’re probably not even here.”

Hal frowns, and takes a step backwards, grasping both of your hands to urge you to follow, so that he can ease on to the couch. “It’s real,” he assures you. you follow him, scrambling to stay close until he can pull you on to the couch. you fall against him, wrapping your arms around his midsection underneath his jacket. the smell of leather that always greeted you when you hugged him was no longer there. he didn’t smell like anything. “Hard to explain, but real. I’m a… a ghost, I guess.”

“You’re cold.” you pout; you were trying to cuddle into him, but now matter how deep you burrowed against his chest, how fervently you tried to rub your warmth into his body, he wasn’t retaining any of it. it was like cuddling a block of ice— not your personal heater that Hal used to be.

“I’m sorry.”

you knew the apology was for more than just your shivering. you could feel the tips of his icy fingers as they trail along your spine, they stop to brush against a rough patch of scar tissue along the small of your back underneath your top. you remember, so vividly, the look on his face when Parallax had driven a construct blade through your belly. the force behind it had swept you off your feet and hoisted you into the air, where your blood dribbled from the corners of your mouth and rained down against his wicked, toothy grin.

what were you supposed to say? ‘It’s okay’? ‘No worries’? you opt for nothing at all, and press the side of your face against the expanse of his chest. maybe part of you hoped you’d hear the subtle thumping of a heart, and you could make sure he knows how much of a jackass he was for playing this awful, awful practical joke on you. but no such luck.

whatever was inside of Hal’s chest wasn’t beating. it was almost as if he were completely hollow.

for several moments, you lay there in silence, letting him hold you. he kisses the crown of your head every now and then, but mostly stays still, too. finally, as your eyelids start to feel heavy, you grip his jacket tighter, fighting your own drowsiness.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it’s okay to go to sleep.”

“No,” it was almost hard to whimper back in response. “Because I know you won’t be here when I wake up.”

he’s quiet, and you know that you’re right.

“I’m drowning, Hal.” you admit with a sniffle. it’d been the first time you had conjured tears in months. “I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it.” you dig your chin into his chest and look at him, but he’s staring far away, guilt plastered over his features. “Please don’t leave me again.” you swallow again, around the thick lump in your throat as your tears cascade over the apples of your cheeks, “If you love me, you’ll stay here. Help me. Please. Make it stop hurting so goddamn much—“

you’re silenced as a swift thumb swipes the tears from one cheek, and he looks down at you. his countenance is mournful; apologetic. “I wish you were smiling.” he whispers. you wonder if he’s unable to cry in this state. if he were still alive, would he sob with you? you felt that he might. instead, the air around the two of you felt heavy with sadness and regret. “Coming here had been a mistake I was willing to make because I would get to see you smile again, but I can only see how much pain I’ve caused.”

“Please,” you whimper, even as he purses his lips to gingerly soothe your crying, “I need you here with me. Just s—stay, I won’t tell anyone.” bargaining desperately, you grasp at his hand again. you didn’t care about the Spectre, you just wanted Hal.

“I wish that I could, but I’ve hurt you enough.” he laments, “And the pain that I’ve caused, I can’t make it go away for you.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

a sorrowful smile etched his tiers into a pathetic excuse for a smile. “Of course you can.” you were shaking your head no even as he speaks, as if refusing to hear him out. “But you have to ease up,” he flips his hand over to hold yours, gently running his thumb over your busted knuckles, “stop trying to get yourself killed, stop being reckless. I want you to heal.”

you look away, humiliated, and consider jerking your hand from his, but you don’t. you stare at the wall, wishing your tears would dry up again.

“You have to take care of yourself,” he continues, kissing each, battered digit, “there’s still so many people that need you.”

and what about the people that need you? what about me? the questions are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t ask them.

“Promise me, baby. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

you really don’t want to.

you want to hold your own well-being hostage so he’s no choice but to stay, but when you look back into his eyes, you crumble.

they’re so desolate.

“I promise.” you croak weakly, and he pulls you back against him. you crash against his chest and cry there, your tears leaving no wet patch on his shirt. it was bizarre, but you didn’t stop to ponder it. “What will happen when I fall asleep?” you ask. truth be told, you were tuckered out from crying and the lingering insomnia. you didn’t want to hear him say he’d leave, but you didn’t want him to lie, either.

damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

“I’ll have to go.” he answers honestly, but you don’t want to fight any longer. it hurts too much knowing that you’ll lose no matter what. “But I’ll hold you until the Spectre forces me to leave.”

you close your eyes, and grip his shirt in tightly balled fists. you were falling into unconsciousness, even though you wanted to stay awake with him.

“It’s okay.” he croons.

but it wasn’t. there was still too much to say that you’d not been able to. too many times to kiss him, and you would never have the chance to again. “Just…” your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, your voice thick with impending sleep that was well overdue. you knew that you’d hurt in the morning, but you could fight it no longer. “Say it… please… Hal…”

“I love you.”

[teddywrites0]

Can’t Catch Me Now (c.b)

Now playing: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo.

summary: he sees your face in every place, haunted by the memories of your separation. what happens when you cross paths again? ex!beomgyu fem!reader, exes to lovers?

warnings: cursing, mentions of therapy, angst with happy ending, mentions of nightmares.

word count: 4.0k

a/n: i fear i will never stop writing stuff based on songs.

“beomgyu? beomgyu?” he jumped awake, scooting backward until his back hit the headboard, eyes wide, he looked bewildered. “you were shouting in your sleep again.” yeonjun said, voice laced with concern. he moved to sit on the edge of beomgyu’s bed, “was it about her?” beomgyu’s pounding heart began to settle, he nodded. “are you sorry?” it sounded like her voice. beomgyu looked at him, tears welling in his eyes, “w-what?” — “i said are you okay?” his knuckles were turning white from the force he was gripping his sheets, “yeah, yeah i’ll be alright.” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than his concerned roommate. “you should go to your classes today.. it’s been months.” yeonjun said, looking about the room. it was a mess, clothes everywhere, empty wrappers on the nightstand, old photographs spread all over his desk. “the guys miss you, and i don’t want you to lose your degree over some girl.” beomgyu furrowed his brows, “some girl?” he questioned. “n-no i didn’t mean it like that listen.. just come today and if you can’t handle it you don’t have to go monday.” beomgyu nodded. “it’s not like she’ll be there.” he muttered.

beomgyu pulled his hood over his head, hanging it low as he put his headphones in. yeonjun had offered to drive him, but he decided he’d walk. he passed by buildings, avoiding the sight of them, avoiding the memories. he reached the part of the route where it was all rural, nothing but grass and trees and the autumn leaves that crunched below his feet. only then did he pick his head up, trying to take in the beauty of the fall morning. then he saw you standing by a tree, looking right at him. his heart quickened, panic setting in, until you disappeared in thin air, reminding him that it’s just apart of the grieving process. but isn’t it unfair to grieve someone who’s still alive? he still found courage to walk into class, resting his head on the desk. whispers and stares came from everyone in the lecture hall. he payed no attention drowning it out with the music that was blasting way too loud in his ears. there was a light tap to his shoulder, it was yeonjun. he took out the ear buds, stuffing them into his pocket. “everyone’s staring.” he said flatly. “they’re gonna stare, the most notorious couple broke up, and you haven’t been here in three months.” beomgyu rolled his eyes, leaning over to fish his notebook out of his bag. “i saw her again.” he whispered, yeonjun sighed, “your therapist said it’s normal to have visions when you’re grieving.” beomgyu balled his fists, “don’t say grieving she’s not dead.” — “she might as well be.” a girl interrupted, giggling with her friends. “yunjin don’t you have better things do to? like i don’t know.. sleep with half of the soccer team?” beomgyu snapped. her friends went silent, most covering their mouths with their hands. “excuse me?” she shouted, standing up. “yunjin sit down, okay everyone! let’s continue our lesson on..” the professor interrupted, and that was when beomgyu tuned out every voice, zoning out until everyone was already packing their bags and heading out of the class. “c’mon let’s go you have econ, im walking you.” yeonjun said.

you stepped out onto the terminal, searching for a familiar face. you gripped your luggage in one hand, guitar case in the other. then you spotted her, your best friend, the one person you weren’t afraid of seeing in your return. she ran to you, opening her arms as she pushed herself into you, wrapping them around you. “chae.” you said in relief. “y/n.” she pulled away cupping your cheeks in her hands. “you haven’t changed.” she said tears pooling into her eyes. “it’s been three months not three years.” you said chuckling, holding back your own tears. “well it felt like three years.” she said wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “besides, my hair is a bit a longer.” you joked. she scoffed, “you really haven’t changed.” she led you to the airport cafe, carrying your suitcase for you. “just an iced chai please.” you ordered, chaewon side-eyeing you in confusion. the two of you settled into a booth, “no flat white?” you shook your head laughing slightly. “no i don’t drink coffee anymore.” she furrowed her eyebrows, “is that like an american thing?” she asked. you giggled, “no it’s just.. apparently it stunts your growth.” she smiled, “i’m glad america didn’t change you.” you pursed your lips into an awkward smile. you took a sip of your drink, suddenly feeling the urge to ask, “how is he?” she looked down, “i don’t know, he hasn’t been to school since.. since you left.” — “oh.”

you gazed out the window, passing by the familiar buildings. “your room is still the same, i didn’t let anyone touch anything.” chaewon said, bringing you back from your thoughts. “that’s good. how’s miso?” the girl behind the wheel giggled, “your child is fine, she slept outside your door every night.” you smiled, “poor girl.” she laughed, and before you knew it you were turning into your apartment complex. you trudged up the steps, the two of you struggling to carry everything. once you finally made it into the apartment, the familiar scent of your favorite fall candle hit your nose. “miso!” you said excitedly, setting down your guitar case to greet the cat that was pawing at your leg. she mewled, leaning into every pet. “i missed you.” you cooed. you stood back up, helping chaewon carry your things into your bedroom. your finger tips glided across the spines of the books on your shelf, everything was still the same. “so you’re going back monday right?” she asked leaning against the door frame. “yeah, this weekend i want to let loose a bit you know? do something fun.” her eyes brightened, “well that’s good news because..” she said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her tote bag. “what’s this?” you asked as she handed it to you. “i spoke to that guy, kai i think his name was? anyways, he wants you to perform at his dads bar. he said your sound is perfect for the aesthetic or whatever that means.” you unfolded the paper, a hand written invitation signed ‘huening kai’. “so like a hipster bar?” she giggled, “that’s what i said, but he looked offended..” the both of you burst into laughter. “yeah i guess i’ll do it, do you have his number or does he communicate strictly through carrier pigeon?” more laughter followed.

“guys wait up!” kai called after beomgyu and yeonjun. “hey what’s up?” yeonjun asked. “saturday- well i guess technically tomorrow, my dad has some local performers playing. you should come!” beomgyu immediately shook his head, “i just barely got through my first day back. i seriously can’t handle getting wasted right now.” they reached yeonjun’s car, “then don’t drink! listen.. i want you to have fun. if you haven’t been at school these past few months, i can imagine you haven’t been anywhere else either.” beomgyu’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “i think he’s right. if you feel overwhelmed we’ll just do what your therapist said..” — “okay fine i’ll go,” he said raising his voice, he then leaned over to whisper to yeonjun, “and don’t talk about that shit in front of other people.” kai stood there awkwardly, “i should go, see you guys tomorrow!” beomgyu opened the passenger door, slamming it after he got in. yeonjun shook his head, opening the drivers side and settling in. “therapy isn’t something to be ashamed of beomgyu.” he turned the key into the ignition. “maybe i should be ashamed of it, it’s my fault i’m there in the first place.” he mumbled. “yeah well you’re not gonna get better if you don’t apply yourself.” the drive home felt slow, like time was paused. they were reaching a green light when he saw you again, “stop the car. yeonjun stop the fucking car!” yeonjun hit the breaks, annoyed drivers honking behind them. just like that.. you were gone. “beomgyu what the fuck? someone could’ve hit us!” yeonjun continued to drive, many people cutting in front of them honking their horns. beomgyu sat there, eyes wide, mouth agape.

when they got to their shared apartment beomgyu rushed to the couch, curling up into the corner, and he began to cry; he began to sob. “hey.. hey what is it?” yeonjun knelt in front of him. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry you have to deal with this, with me.” yeonjun shook his head “beomgyu..” — “no yeonjun! i’m burdening you! i don’t want to take you down with me!” yeonjun pulled himself up, sitting beside beomgyu, pulling him to his chest. “you’re not a burden. you’re my best friend, and you’re hurting and it’s okay to be hurt.” beomgyu sobbed into his chest, “i shouldn’t have said those things to her.. i can’t- i can’t escape her, but at the same time i want to chase after her. she’s everywhere, but she’s not really there.” yeonjun rubbed his hand over beomgyu’s back, “it’s gonna be alright. go lay down okay? you probably need rest, im sure it was stressful to go back today.” beomgyu rubbed his eyes, heading to his bedroom. he laid down, hugging his pillow to his chest. “i’m not the selfish one beomgyu, you are! this is important to me! this is a big opportunity!” he scoffed, “you’ve had offers here! you really think moving to another continent will be any different?” you shook your head, “this just proves it to me..” —“proves what to you y/n? proves what?” you balled your fists, holding back tears. “that if you loved me you’d support me!” the sound of glass shattering echoed in the room, “shit- y/n i’m sorry.” you bent down, picking up the pieces of your bedside lamp. you stood up slowly. “get the fuck out!” — “no no i’m not leaving! i’m not leaving.” yeonjun shook him awake, “it’s just a bad dream.” beomgyu held his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. “what time is it?” he asked. yeonjun checked his phone, “five thirty, let’s order some take out yeah?” beomgyu nodded, feeling lightheaded from his short nap.

“i texted kai, im playing at seven tomorrow.” you said as you set chaewon’s takeout box in front of her. “that’s awesome, you have a song picked yet?” you nodded, pulling your own takeout out. “that program really helped me, i learned a lot.” she smiled, “as if you could get any better.” you shook your head chuckling, “there’s always room to get better, to learn more.” you ate mostly in silence, you liked that about your friendship, you were always comfortable in each others silence. “y/n?” you looked up, “yeah?” she cleared her throat, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay, i know you miss him.” you sighed, “it’s just- he scared me that day you know? i worried that if i stayed even after that, it could’ve gotten worse.” chaewon nodded, reaching to hold your hand across the table. “i get that, i spoke to yeonjun before you landed this morning, he’s um.. he’s not doing very well.” you looked down, “he doesn’t know i’m back?” she shook her head. “if he wouldn’t have gotten so angry, if he would’ve listened, he would’ve known.” she rubbed the back of your hand with her thumb, “i know, but guys are stupid. i know you loved each other.” you sighed, picking up your takeout box to throw it away. “i still do.” when chaewon said she didn’t touch your room, she really meant it. your bedside lamp remained shattered on the floor. you groaned, flopping down onto your bed face first. ‘i’ll clean it in the morning’ you thought. before you knew it you were asleep, twitching occasionally. “how is she?” yeonjun asked. chaewon held the phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she wiped down the counters. “she’s good.. physically. i just called to let you know she’s here, im sure she wouldn’t mind seeing you.” she heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “i would love to, but beomgyu’s still super messed up about it. i don’t want him to find out i saw her without telling him. i mean if he would’ve let her explain we wouldn’t be here right now.” chaewon grabbed the phone moving it to her other ear as she disposed of the paper towel. “would you like to talk to her at least?” she asked. “that’d be nice.” she knocked on your door gently, “y/n?” you woke up slowly, “come in.” she entered, phone still up to her ear. “i’m sorry to wake you, yeonjun’s on the phone.” you felt your heart beat quicken as you took the phone from her. “hello?” — “hey y/n.” you smiled softly, “does he know you called?” you asked voice slightly trembling. “no he’s uh, he’s asleep right now. that’s all he’s really been doing lately.” you took in a shaky breath, trying to hold the flow of tears you’ve held back for three months, “i don’t want him to be hurt.” the truth is in the beginning, you did want him to be hurt. you thought he deserved it, but hearing how he’s been after asking everyone strictly not to update you while you were away, you really didn’t want him to be hurt. “i know y/n, he’d hate for me to tell you this but he’s been seeing a therapist. i thought it would help him considering his history with nightmares when his parents split.” hearing he was in therapy made you feel slightly better, maybe he can get better without you.

“i’ll see you monday, bye.” yeonjun hung up the phone, he didn’t want to keep the fact that you were back from beomgyu; but he’ll know when you return to school monday. unless he sees you sooner than that. beomgyu didn’t have a nightmare that night, he woke up feeling decent. which was saying something because everyday since you left he woke up with chest pain, curtesy of his broken heart. it was saturday, and he was dreading going to kai’s fathers bar later that night. he didn’t want to socialize, he wanted to do what he did every night, look at old pictures and stare at the ceiling until he fell asleep. he barely touched his phone, never talked to anyone but yeonjun. he didn’t even play video games. “hey i’m gonna run to the grocery store wanna come with?” yeonjun asked, peaking his head into beomgyu’s room. “sure.” he pulled the same hoodie he always wore over his head, it was yours, one that you had left at his apartment. he thought it might be good to go with yeonjun, he didn’t have that bad of a day at school so maybe this was a step forward. that was until they arrived, and he saw a familiar silhouette. “chaewon?” she turned around after placing a box of cereal into her cart. “b-beomgyu? hi!” she greeted. she looked him up and down, noticing his weak state. “i was at school yesterday.. must’ve missed you.” she smiled awkwardly, “oh i uh didn’t go, i had to help a friend.” his eyes scanned the items in her cart, all of your favorite snacks and drinks. “how is she? is america treating her well?” he asked, trying to keep calm. “she’s good.” she said seemingly uncomfortable. yeonjun put his hand on beomgyu’s shoulder reassuringly. “well i have to checkout now, it was nice seeing you!” she said before rushing toward the checkout. “that was weird.” beomgyu muttered.

beomgyu looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the belt on his jeans. “apologize.” he heard your voice, looking in the reflection he saw you sitting on the foot of his bed. he turned around quickly, but you weren’t there. he shook his head, grabbing his phone before heading into the living room. “you ready?” yeonjun asked, getting up from the couch. he nodded, heading to the front door. kai greeted them at the entrance, leading them inside. it was nice, dim lighting, main bar near the entrance, tables and booths in front of the bar, and a small stage. it was packed, filled with locals, and people in suits. beomgyu assumed they were scouters, there to see who they could scoop from that stage and give a big name. he scoffed. the last time someone he knew was scouted his life went downhill, he lost you. “you guys can take a seat at the bar, im going to greet everyone, thank them for coming, and then i’ll sit with you for the performances.” kai said before heading into the seating area. “this place is nice.” yeonjun said, trying to brighten beomgyu’s spirits. “i guess.” yeonjun shook his head, then called over the bartender, “two waters please..” beomgyu interrupted, “one water and a jack and coke.” the bartender nodded. “dude if you drink it’ll make you feel worse.” beomgyu chuckled, “well at least you’re my designated driver.” the drinks arrived shortly along with kai. “so what do you think of the place?” he asked sitting on the other side of yeonjun. “it’s not as under ground as i thought it would be, i mean there’s scouters everywhere.” beomgyu scowled. “if it makes you feel any better they weren’t invited, they just kind of show up.” kai reasoned.

you were a bit jittery back stage, avoiding looking at the crowd. “you’ll be fine y/n, you’re so talented im sure you’ll get a standing ovation.” chaewon joked, trying to calm your nerves. kai had greeted you at your early arrival, you saw how many seats there were, making you all the more nervous. you were set to be the third to perform. “everyone! get ready, im going to do a little intro and then you’ll perform in the given order!” kai’s dad spoke to you and the other performers. he walked through the curtain, “good evening everyone! i’m sure you’re all excited, we have a bunch of talented performers ahead of us!” you heard him greet the audience, reality setting in. the first performer went up, then the second, and before you knew it, it was your turn. the audience clapped upon your arrival, you sat in the stool in front of the microphone, guitar in your lap. the spotlights were so bright you could barely see past the tables in front of the stage, the bar was out of your sight. beomgyu and yeonjun were lost in kai’s rambling, they hadn’t even payed attention to the last two performers. you began to strum at your guitar as the audience’s claps silenced. you closed your eyes and began to sing.

there’s blood on the side of the mountain.

there’s writing all over the wall.

shadows of us are still dancing.

in every room and every hall.

beomgyu heard your voice, thinking it was in his head until yeonjun muttered, “oh shit.” he turned around and sure enough, there you were. the same black guitar, with the same blue strap.

there’s snow fallin over the city.

you thought that it would wash away.

the bitter taste of my fury.

and all of the messes you made.

beomgyu couldn’t move, all he could do was watch. he couldn’t react.

yeah you think that you got away.

but i’m in the trees, i’m in the breeze.

my footsteps on the ground.

you’ll see my face in every place, but you can’t catch me now.

“you set this up didnt you?” yeonjun asked kai bitterly, “n-no i mean yes but maybe they could talk?” kai said nervously. “are you serious kai?” yeonjun scoffed. beomgyu didn’t hear their bickering. he was too engrossed in your voice, in the lyrics. why were you here? you finished the song, the audience was silent for a few seconds before people began to stand up, clapping, and whistling. you smiled, scanning the audience until you thought you saw him. you squinted, and sure enough when you could see past the spotlight, he was sitting at the bar. shock painted over his face. your heart dropped to your stomach and you rushed behind the curtain. “y/n what’s wrong?” chaewon said as you dropped your guitar. “beomgyu.. he’s here i saw him at the bar.” you said picking up your guitar and putting it in its case. “we have to get out of here i don’t want to see him.” she nodded helping you through the backstage door that led to a hallway. she linked her arm with yours before you got to another door. you opened it and surely enough it led to the front of the bar, where beomgyu was. “shit.” you whispered rushing past the bar and out of the building, it was pouring rain. “we shouldn’t have walked here.” you said before you and chaewon began to run in the direction of your apartment. beomgyu got up, he didn’t know what came over him, but he needed to talk to you. “beomgyu don’t..” yeonjun started, holding onto his arm, beomgyu shook him off, “i need to see her.” he ran out of the bar, you and chaewon were barely visible ahead of him. yeonjun and kai weren’t short off, “beomgyu come back inside!” kai yelled, “no i’m going to talk to her!” the rain had soaked them, clothes sticking to their bodies. beomgyu lost sight of you, but he knew where your apartment was. he began to run, yeonjun and kai trailing behind him.

you reached your complex, drenched. before you could enter the lobby, “y/n!” you turned around to see a soaked beomgyu. the rain seemingly began to pour harder. yeonjun and kai rounded the corner, stopping to catch their breath. you stared at each other, mascara running down your face from a mixture of rain and tears. “why- how are you here?” yeonjun stepped toward him, “get the fuck back!” beomgyu yelled. yeonjun walked backward. “why do you care?” you shouted, gripping the handle of your guitar case. “i thought you moved to america to be some big shot!” you scoffed, “go home beomgyu.” — “no.” you stepped farther away, “go fucking home!” he stepped closer, “no not until you let me apologize!” your tears fell harder, “you called me selfish, you threw my lamp,” you stepped closer, pointer finger digging into his chest, “and i did feel selfish for a while but you know what? you’re the selfish one!” you shouted, pushing him by his chest. “i know okay? i didn’t want you to fucking leave me! i didnt want to do long distance!” chaewon came up behind you grabbing ahold of your hand, attempting to pull you toward the building. “y/n let’s go.” you went to leave, “fuck.. i love you!” you turned back around, “if you loved me you would’ve listened to me!” you stepped closer to him again, dropping your guitar case on the pavement. “i did listen to you!” you chuckled sourly, “if you listened, like really listened beomgyu, you would’ve let me explain..” — “explain what?” you grew angrier, “if you wouldn’t have snapped i would’ve been able to explain that it was a three month program! i wasn’t moving to america for fucking forever!” his eyes twitched slightly, tears finally escaping after the adrenaline held them back. “i- i’m sorry.” he said quietly. “i’m really, truly sorry.” you don’t know what you were thinking, you reached your arms behind his neck, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. you pulled away, shocked expressions shared between the two of you. “if i forgive you-“ you started, he interrupted, “it’s gonna be hard, it’s gonna be really, really hard, but i’m willing to go through it because i want to be with you.” your arms loosened, hands now resting on the back of his neck. “do you want to come inside?”

[rip-us-xoxo]

Requiem- Fred Weasley x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 12, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

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Warnings- Fred’s dead 😭 and it pulls at your heartstrings A LOT. Also swearing, but that’s to be expected at this point

Based off of “Requiem” from Dear Evan Hansen

________________

Italics= flashback

________________

Why should I play this game of pretend?

Remembering through a secondhand sorrow?

Such a great son and wonderful friend

Oh, don’t the tears just pour

There you sat, listening to all of the speeches at Fred Weasley’s funeral.

First from his mother, then his father, all of his siblings, a few friends, including you, and then finally, his twin, George.

Everyone was sobbing their eyes out, but you? You sat there, eyes fixated at the ground except when you gave your speech, but you still were looking down at your black shoes for most of it.

You didn’t want to cry, not after what Fred did to you. But the sadness was still there.

I could curl up and hide in my room

There in my bed, still sobbing tomorrow

I could give in to all of the gloom

But tell me, tell me what for

After the reception ended, you couldn’t handle it anymore. All of the confusing emotions were too much for you.

So, you left while everyone was going to go and eat without saying goodbye.

Once you got home, you slammed the front door shut and stood against the door crying. “Why am I crying?” you thought, “He broke up with me all those years ago.”.

You wiped the tears that kept spilling from your eyes and stood up, going to the bathroom to compose yourself.

After a few moments of crying there was a knock, “Um, Miss Y/l/n?” you heard from outside the door. “Shit,” you whispered and opened the door.

“Hi Sophie, here, let me give you your money. Thank you for watching him again,” you said with a small smile and handed her some money before she smiled and mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ before leaving.

When you looked back at the mirror, hot tears were still pouring from your face. “Stop crying, goddammit!” you screamed at yourself and hit the bathroom counter.

Why should I have a heavy heart?

Why should I start to break in pieces?

Why should I go and fall apart for you?

You then heard crying come from your room. “Dammit, I woke him up,” you groaned and wiped your eyes once more before heading down the hall.

When you entered the room, you immediately went to tend to your son, Theodore.

“Shh, Theo, it’s alright. Mommy’s here,” you cooed and picked him up from his tiny bed. It broke your heart to hear him cry, he was the most important thing to you.

He was 3 years old and the best thing that had ever happened to you, but no one else knew about him except your family members and Sophie, the babysitter. After he calmed down, you kissed his fiery red hair and placed him back onto his bed.

“Your father could have had so much. But no. He had to leave and go start his joke shop,” you sighed sadly with a hint of anger. “Why should I care that he’s dead? He left us, not the other way around.”.

“Mommy,” he babbled and made grabby hands toward you. “Oh alright, come on little guy,” you giggled and jumped onto your bed with him. He snuggled into your chest and began sucking on his thumb.

Why should I play the grieving girl and lie

Saying that I miss you

And that my world has gone dark without your light?

I will sing no requiem tonight

“Fred Weasley was a great friend and I miss him everyday”. That was one of the lines from your speech that you gave at his funeral.

You didn’t miss him at all, but to appease everyone and to not cause drama, you said you did.

Your world didn’t need Fred Weasley as your light, you had everything you needed snuggled in your arms.

I gave you the world, you threw it away

Leaving these broken pieces behind you

Everything wasted, nothing to say

So I can sing no requiem

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but we can’t be together anymore,” Fred told you, not meeting your eyes. 

“W-Wait what?” you asked, tearing up. “This isn’t funny Fred,” you tried laughing, “it’s just a sick joke.”. 

When he didn’t meet your eyes, you knew he was serious. “W-Why?” you asked, starting to cry. 

“I just think it’s what’s best.”.

That was all he told you in the corridors one starry night in your 7th year. The next day he left school, not speaking a word to you.

You were broken by the words he did speak though, he gave no explanation, he just left.

4 years. 4 years you two had been together and he just left.

But the one thing you wish you could’ve told him was that you were pregnant with his child.

“Maybe things could’ve been different,” you whispered, a single tear running down your face.

I hear your voice, I feel you near

Within these words, I finally find you

And now that I know that you are still here

I will sing no requiem tonight

You tried to sleep but your brain was filled with too many thoughts. You looked down at your son after another failed attempt at sleep and realized just how much he looked like Fred. Red hair, brown eyes, Theo had it all.

Fred’s memory will live through the shop and his family members, but for you, it was little Theo who reminded you of him, it gave you an odd sort of peace that Fred was still with you in a way.

You started to cry thinking of all the happy memories while looking down at your son, oh how you wished Fred could be there with you and your son.

Why should I have a heavy heart?

Why should I say I’ll keep you with me?

Why should I go and fall apart for you?

You then thought back to when Theo would cry for hours as a baby and nothing would calm him down, or how you worked 2 jobs to be able to provide for you and your son. Fred wasn’t there for any of it, he wasn’t there to help at all.

“Get it together,” you whispered to yourself and tried to fall asleep once more.

Why should I play the grieving girl and lie

Saying that I miss you and that my world has gone dark without your light?

I will sing no requiem

Tonight

You groaned when sleep, once again, wouldn’t consume you.

You sat up, being careful not to crush your son, and reached into your nightstand. You pulled out a newspaper with a picture of Fred and George in front of their joke shop smiling, it was opening day and they looked so proud.

You smiled slightly, but anger soon consumed you.

“Why am I crying over him, for Godric’s sake!” you said angrily and threw the newspaper beside you.

‘Cause when the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep

No one lights a candle to remember

No, no one mourns at all

When they lay them down to sleep

“I hate you!” you screamed as you ripped up all of the pictures you had of Fred. “You were a horrible person!” “You left me! You left Theo without a dad!” “You didn’t even say anything, you just went and risked your life and died!”. These were all things you screamed as you ripped up all of the pictures you had of Fred.

“I hate you!” you sobbed and ripped up the picture of you two at the Yule Ball before throwing the pieces at the wall.

So, don’t tell me that I didn’t have it right

Don’t tell me that it wasn’t black and white

“You had no excuse to leave me! Everyone told me that I should forgive you because you were a good person, but you were not a good person, you left me!” you screamed.

After all you put me through

Don’t say it wasn’t true

That you were not the monster

That I knew

“You left me! I was pregnant and it was the most painful experience of my life and you didn’t help me though any of it!” you sobbed while looking at a picture of you and Fred after a quidditch match.

“There was never any good in you, you were just pure evil!”.

'Cause I cannot play the grieving girl and lie

Saying that I miss you And that my world has gone dark

The last words made you sob to the point where you couldn’t breathe.

“I. Hate-!” you stopped screaming when you came across a photo. It was you and Fred hugging on a Gryffindor common room couch.

That was the day you found out you were pregnant and you were scared out of your mind.

“Love, are you alright?” Fred asked and sat down on the couch in the Gryffindor common room next to you. “

Hm? Oh yeah, just tired I guess,” you mumbled, not daring to look into his eyes. 

“Oh come on, Y/n, we’ve been dating for 4 years. Just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” he cooed and engulfed you in a hug while stroking your hair and giving you a long kiss on the forehead. 

The flashing of a camera made both of your eyes go wide. “

Aw look at the love birds!” George teased and sat the camera on the table, waiting for it to process. 

“Oh sod off George,” Fred groaned and gave you another kiss on the forehead.

You sobbed and came back to reality, Theo was crying. You quickly got off of the floor and sat next to him, bringing him into your lap.

“I’m so sorry Theo, mommy didn’t mean to scare you,” you cried and hugged him tightly.

I will sing no requiem

I will sing no requiem

I will sing no requiem tonight

“Come on, let’s go to sleep,” you told Theo while glaring at the ripped up pictures on the floor, “I have better things to do than cry over a stupid man who broke my heart years ago. I’m done crying over him. I’m over him.”.

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh

Theo ended up not being able to fall asleep and neither could you. Fred Weasley was all you were thinking about. No matter how hard you tried, he was still taking over your brain.

“Come on, Theo,” you huffed and got him dressed in a little jacket to accommodate for the coldness of the night before walking out of your house and walking to the graveyard where Fred had been buried.

You needed to see him one last time before you never thought about him again.

You looked down at the gravestone “Fred Weasley, beloved brother, son, and friend,” you read quietly to yourself, starting to cry once more. You sat down and leaned up against the gravestone before making Theo cuddle into your front.

“I miss you everyday Fred,” you cried and hugged Theo tightly while rubbing the ground Fred was buried under, “I still love you, no matter how many times I try to say I hate you.”.

Little did you know, Fred was sitting next to you, his arms were wrapped around you and their son. “Y/n, I wish I could go back and fix everything, I wish I could’ve been there for you and our son, I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly, resting his head on your shoulder.

After a few minutes of you crying, you stood up, much to Fred’s dismay and looked down and Fred’s gravestone where Fred was also coincidently sitting, “This is it, Fred, I need to move on, I’ll always love you, I hope you know that. But this is goodbye,” you said sadly, “for now,” you said in barely a whisper before turning around and walking back to your house.

Although you knew that you were never going to see him again and for years to come you would say that you were over Fred, you knew that you would never be over him and that you would sing a silent requiem every night for Fred because he was, and will always, be the love of your life.

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

xoxo

[galaxyofhair]

Grieving Shaun | Fallout 4

From the perspective of Nate

====

The moment the Institute relayed me back to Vault 111, I collapsed on the ground. Whoever I was just a moment before was gone, drained like dirty water leaking out the bottom of the carton. I don't know how long I sat, amoungst the silent, dead trees and the skeletons of the people who never made it into the vault. For once, I could feel their bony eye sockets staring at me as I passed by, the ghost I had just seen haunted me far more effectively.

I eventually got up, and just… kept wandering. I walked through Vault 111, and tried to imagine living in there with Nora and Shaun. Was there a future in which our whole community lived down here? Or perhaps we'd all have woken up together, taken over the overseer's apartment and used the whole vault like a personal, underground mansion. Seeing Nora's body, frozen in her… her sarcophagus, that thought faded quickly.

Emerging in the dead of night, I walked back to our---to my house in Sanctuary Hills. The door squeaked when I open it, leaves keep falling through the missing windows no matter how many I sweep out. I fumble through my powerless hovel into Shaun's old room. Sitting on the floor, I can't help but imagine Shaun being here now. I never touch this space because I thought I'd be raising Shaun in it. This room, with its open window and battered crib, are the ruins of my life. Would Shaun even care? This isn't his house. To him, it's just some place that I live, in the middle of nowhere. I life he's probably glad to have never lived.

I could have gone back to the railroad---they're the ones that got me in after all. Perhaps it was time to report to the Brotherhood, but that notion was becoming less and less enticing every time I met them. No… No, they'd both put me right to work---as a double agent, no less, working against my own son.

I wandered south again, and ended up in Diamond City. I passed by the newly christened Mercer Safehouse, the guy they've got there didn't even see me. No know knew I was back yet, I felt like the spirit of myself, passing through the cracks in the brick walls like mist. Walking into Piper's house, I could hear her upstairs clacking away on a console with her signature 'raptor-fingers' typing style.

"Nat? Get back out there, Nat! Folks around here will steal the paper if no ones' around!" She called down as I sat on her couch and tried to light a cigarette.

My sweaty fingers fumbled about the lighter, and in a brief moment of panic I gripped it tighter---only for it to slip out of my hands entirely and clatter onto the floor. I felt my heart break again, water rising high into the air, threatening to overtake me. My hands came up to my face to hold back the tears there were already streaming, dripping onto the floor.

"Blue?" Said Piper, her voice surprisingly close by. She knelt down and took the cigarette out of my hands and laid it aside, "Blue, what happened?"

"He's alive…" I said, my voice broken, "He's alive… but he's sixty…! I missed his whole life, I missed everything!"

"Oh my God, Blue, I---" Piper pulled me in, and held me tightly, "I'm so sorry. Blue, I'm so sorry."

Whatever dam of denial, or veil of silence had held me together until then finally broke.

"It's all gone! Everything is gone!" I cried. It didn't make perfect sense, but it didn't need to. More than just sobbing into Piper's arms, I despaired in the biblical sense, the way the ancients must have meant it when they wrote their laments for fallen cities.

When it was done, I told Piper everything---how I'd hijacked the Institute's teleporter, how the boy I'd seen in Kellogg's memories was a synth child, how Shaun was now the leader of the Institute and the blueprint for modern synths. I asked her not to write about any of this---at least not yet.

That night I stayed in her house, on the couch. Piper offered to walk me back to Sanctuary, but for once I said no. I needed just a little more time. I went back to the only thing that was truly a guarantee of this life, my God-given right as a waster---scavenging. I stuck around Concord for a few days. I picked through through the ruins there for food, interesting baubles, old clothes. I gave a lot of raiders and super mutants the 'don't fuck with me and I won't fuck with you' stare as I passed by their abodes---and gave them bullets when the staring didn't work. I found tiny, cozy little holes to sleep in, and stayed up late reading magazines and comic, trying to remember the old world. I imagined reading them to Shaun, giving him the first of many old man talks about how it was back in my day. I played a lot of Red Menace, and listened to the holotape that Nora had given to Codsworth the day before Armageddon.

On the third or fourth day---I lost track---I spotted someone walking on the road in east Cambridge wearing an Institute jumper.

"Hey there, stranger!" He said to me. His voice betrayed his wariness and nervousness around me, perhaps that was for the best. Still annoying to deal with, the worst part of the wasteland was sitting in tense little standoffs with every random person you encountered.

"How's it going?" I responded.

"Do you know the way to Bunker Hill?" He asked. He was definitely a synth, recently escaped and looking to connect with the Railroad. I'd just met Patriot about a week earlier, kid worked fast.

I pointed southeast, "Follow the road some more, it's across the bridge. Look for the tall monument."

"Thanks, partner!" Said the escapee. He immediately started walking passed me toward's Bunker Hill.

I sighed heavily, "Shit---Hey!" I called, stopping him, "Take this."

I had just pulled a nice suit out of an old department store a few blocks down, and had been thinking about wearing it---maybe going full crazy and pretending I was at a fancy dinner. I was undecided on the latter bit. Pulling the suit out of my bag and handing it to him I said, "Get out of that jumper. If anyone else sees you in it, they're liable to kill you. Don't get caught out here after dark."

He grabbed the suit and unfolded it partway before looking up at me again, "Thank you! You're a lifesaver!"

"Yeah, whatever. Hope you make it..."

We parted ways, and I went and sat down at an abandoned diner. I had a meal, maybe the last meal I was going to have in my 'return to childhood' phase. When I was done, I picked up my rifle, and started walking south towards the Old North Church. It was time to return to the fold, there was work to be done.

[jioohyo]

SISTER, MY SISTER. + AVATAR: BLOOD SISTER

synopsis. the hundredth visit to saeyla weighs heavily on all, including the lost utuvom. still, mēing refuses to save herself, saeyla preached the final plea to her: keep your eyes open. hopefully.

jioohyo note. short and easy chapter to make things clear!! no 5000+ words to kill your brain cells- i have to save the best for last 🤷🏾‍♀️ idk if anyone wants to be in the taglist for the next chapter but lmk if you guys want to be apart of itt!

genre & warnings. straight up angst, mentions of the dead.

Days were completed to play hard, it was almost like a battle for Mēing. The soft rustle of the tree's leaves seemed to echo her sorrow, as if the forest itself mourned the loss of her dear sister. Saeyla.

"Will this work?" The Utuvom pore over to the young sage warrior, Neytiri. It was clear that she was prudent. "I won't answer that question no more. You can't question the Great Mother's creation, ma' sista." In that firm response, Mēing inhaled so deeply for her lungs to be tightened from the building up grief in her soul.

The queue being present to bond, it reached out to clasped with the glowing, fiber-optic-like tendrils, the tree's whispers grew louder, a gentle hum filling the air. Mēing wasn't on a drug nevertheless she felt so high, so free, the twitch of her pointy ears gave a visual aid of her soul being in glee.

The truth couldn't be just an illusion, could it? Yet, despite receiving answers time and again, Mēing's fear persisted. She had a habit of ignoring the truth, refusing to listen, even when it stared at her straight in the face.

The boundaries between herself and mother nature began to blur. She seated herself in the pulse of the forest, its rhythms and rhymes, its joys and sorrows. The tree's wisdom flows into her like a flowing stream of pure water, carrying the knowledge and memories of the people. The tree is gentle, guiding her, comforting her, and empowering her. It was time to keep her eyes wide open.

So strange yet a selcouth presence materialized before Mēing. The companion that comforted had been vanished, the vision has begun, the only relief is to see the past tsakïrem in a glowing foliage while innocently soaking her hand into the moonlit river.

That was when their glowing lime eyes met, a gaze of relief and profound connection. The Utuvom's eyes swelled up with tears, brimming with emotion, yet not a drop fell onto her cheek. "Ma' sister," she whispered, her voice trembling. She embraced the spirit, and it felt like a warm embrace enveloping her soul, a sense of homecoming and long-awaited reunion.

As they held each other, the forest around them seemed to come alive, again. The irenic trees leaning in as if to witness the tender moment.

The Utuvom felt like the same old youth again, just needing her sister's guide once more. The spirit's gentle whisper echoed in her mind, "Sister, I am home," and the Utuvom knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

With their hands still clasped together, they gently lowered themselves onto the soft moss covering the ground. Meing's voice was laced with remorse as she confessed, "Saeyla, I feel the guilt, it's still there. I never dreamt myself to be alone."

Saeyla's sigh was a gentle whisper of frustration, her words falling on deaf ears. It was as if a veil of ignorance shrouded Mēing's mind, refusing to let the truth penetrate.

"Mēing, why do you keep tearing your soul apart? Do you not feel my presence with you?" Saeyla's thoughts were laced with concern, but Mēing's only response was a defeated bowing of her head, her naivety still evident in her interactions with her older sister.

"I will always be with you, no matter what darkness you may face."

"You're not. You don't learn with me anymore, you don't help me harvest and laugh at the stupid mistakes I made. It's just... I don't understand." Meing clenched her jaw, her soul now being in presence of frustration. She was still grieving.

Saeyla just stared in a blank expression seeing the Utuvom still struggle for answers. She just brought her in an embrace, allowing her for the last time to cut out the nonsense. "It's like a cycle, Mēing... Being fleshly there, doesn't mean I am not with you anymore."

She continued, "Our bond goes beyond home. I will always be with you, in the mind, in the people, in your heart."

The embrace has ended with both souls being doleful, Saeyla stood up along with Mēing, her hands lifting her up to her feet. Interlocked hands once more, "My days are over now and it's your time to rise." Saeyla stated, and she looked staid.

"You are divine since birth, you are the chosen of the Great Mother. Show them all."

With all that being said, every negatively was put down to ashes, to be put down below Mēing's feet. In the blink of an eye, a glimmer of Saeyla's soul began to uprise, hitting Mēing's soul back to reality.

This was now the beginning the wake up call, Saeyla's preaches were over and it was time for Mēing to show her people who she truly is.

Just then, Neytiri appeared by a single touch on her shoulder, "Well?" her gentle voice woke Mēing in the small trance. The forest floor, illuminated by the soft glow of the tree, seemed to come alive, as if the spirit of the natural world comforted Meing's grieving heart.

"She's everywhere."

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED! layout . . . © jioohyo. please do not republish nor translate my content, thank you!

[whataboutsimple]

G here and honestly, thank you so much. I’m glad you like my ramblings about Gabriel and honestly, having someone to talk about these sort of things really makes me happy and I’m glad people love my ideas and drabbles and that it make others happy and intrigued too. I also really appreciate you not tagging me, I’m still not ready to go out of anonymity. Anyways, I unfortunately haven’t started writing yet because I’ve been busy with a lot of stuff and there’s things I need to do but here’s something to add a bit more lore in Ore siblings, enjoy:

“Thank you so much for saving us sir, we would have been dead were it not for you!” The person bowed profusely and thankfully to which Gabriel chuckled and shook his head in response, “It’s truly not a problem, I am simply grateful that I was here to help.”

“I gotta admit, this place is crazy!” Another person exclaimed excitedly as the group distributed keys to each other, “You said it’s called a trial chamber?”

“Yes, it is a large dungeon with unique mob spawners and loot.” Gabriel explained, inserting his key into the a vault. “And once the room is clear of mobs, you are granted a trial key to open these vaults.”

“Amazing, you must have went through a buncha these kinds of trial chambers!” The first person grinned and Gabriel could only give a sentimental smile in response, “I suppose you could say that…”

“Guys! Check out this sick smithing template!” Someone else who climbed up to a different vault exclaimed as they held up their reward, their smile as bright and excited as—

“Dion! Dion Dion Dion look at this!” The copper haired girl shouted ecstatically, grinning ear to ear as she waves down from the platform she was standing on.

“Cooper, do be careful not to fall.” Another voice cuts in, smooth, clear and soothing, almost echoing across the trial chamber.

“I know Quartzy I’m not gonna do that!” Cooper rolled her eyes as she gets down from the platform the ominous vault was on before rushing towards her older siblings, her arms outstretched to show a music disc in hand, “But check this out! I found this disc in the ominous vault, it looks different than the other disc we found in the pot even though it is made of the same material and quite similar in appearance as opposed to the music disc we received in a standard vault, therefore this disc is perhaps even older than the previous two and could be an original-“

“Now wait for us Cooper, we wouldn’t want to trigger another trial.” Dion laughed fondly as he gently grabs Cooper from walking away from them into a random corridor. Quartz giggles as well, sauntering up to the two before suggesting, “How about we resurface back? We can listen to the music disc there and see if it is similar to the one we discovered earlier and compare them in detail.”

Cooper’s eyes lit up like the sun, her grin somehow becoming brighter. “Oh yeah good point! C’mon Di! Discovery doesn’t wait!”

“Alright Cooper, let’s go.”

“Cooper?” The sudden voice snapped Gabriel out of his memory, shaking his head before gathering his thoughts and eventually settling on an answer, “Ah, do not mind me. I am just, reminded of someone…”

As Gabriel looks back at the excited group he was helping through this trail chamber, a part of his heart ached.

Cooper, Quartz… All his siblings…

Even after all these years, he still grieves.

Totally understand the anonymity part, no need to thank me!! Happy that you received positive emotions from the little show!<3

Poor old man, how many people had he lost? Angst will never leave him, not in this blog at least.

I already love chaotic Cooper! Sweet girl.

Quartz seems like a chill guy, love him too.

[liviavanrouge]

Small Visit

Lilia: *Carries a small box, his face expressionless*

Livia: Papa?

Lilia: *Looks back* Livia, you're up early, how come?

Livia: *Walks over, looking curious* I heard your footsteps

Lilia: *Chuckles* You go back to bed, I'm going out for a little while....

Livia: *Watches him go curiously* Papa?

~~~~~

Lilia: *Carefully removes growing moss and vines, raking up old leaves* Sorry for not visiting for a while...

Lilia: *Opens the box and sets down a few white roses* I've been busy, I bet you can tell...

Lilia: *Smiles at the gravestone* You would've smacked this apprentice of yours had I not visited....right Ameki...

Livia: *Peeks out from behind the tree*

Lilia: Wanna hear how he passed, Little Bat?

Livia: *Flinches in surprise then shuffles over* Is that okay?

Lilia: *Looks at her, smiling* Yeah...

Livia: Then how....

Lilia: I was Ameki's apprentice....I wouldn't be standing now if it wasn't for him

-----

Lilia(112): *Trembles, covered in wounds, glaring at the intruders*

Assassin A: Let's kill the kid and get going

Assassin C: Got it, let me cut his tongue out first though

???: *Roars, running over*

Ameki: *Tackles the lead assassin down, slamming them neck first into the ground* TRASH ASSASSIN!!!!

Lilia: *Stares at his mentor alarmed*

Ameki: *Raises his claw, snarling at the assassin* RUN LILIA!!! WARN EVERYONE!!

Lilia: Ameki-

Ameki: *Looks at Lilia and grins* You better get out of here kid, make sure to tell your own kids about my heroic sacrifice....

Ameki: *Laughs, smiling at Lilia* You're gonna kick ass one day kiddo! Make me proud and go warn everyone!!

Lilia: *Stares then turns and runs away*

Ameki: *Turns to the assassin's, blood seeping through his clothes* Hah....I've been wounded since the last battle, but I wasn't about to let you guys take that kids life

Ameki: *Coughs up blood, his vision blurring* ...that kid.....needs to grow up and settle down one day with his own lover and kids

Ameki: *Lunges at the assassin, falling into the water* IF I GOTTA DIE FOR THAT TO HAPPEN!! SO BE IT!!

Assassin C: *Leaps into Ameki's back, bringing him down*

Ameki: *Snarls, slashing the assassin's neck, then turning to the next his vision blurring* BRING IT TRASH!!!

~~~~

Lilia: *Runs back, his eyes wide* Ameki?

Nilo: *Looks around then perks up* OVER HERE!

Mayhem: *Runs to the figure alarmed* AMEKI!!

Ameki: *Smiles laying motionless on his side, his eyes dull*

Nilo: *Trembles then closes Ameki's eyes, looking away* It's been five minutes

Mayhem: YOU!!! *Turns to Lilia and raises his hand*

Nilo: Mayhem! Don't touch him...

Mayhem: HE CAUSED THIS!!

Nilo: Ameki..has always cherished and favored Lilia, they were like father and son, if anything Ameki died for Lilia to live on

Nilo: *Walks over to Lilia* Don't let his sacrifice for you be in vain, young one

Silvia: Go ahead and grieve sweetheart before we take him back

Lilia: *Looks down, then walks over and sits by Ameki trembling*

Ambert: *Walks over and sits beside Lilia*

Cobra: *Sits on Lilia's right*

Duke: *Tents his wing over them, his ears flattened back*

Revern: *Stands behind Lilia, placing a hand on his shoulder*

Meleanor: *Stands beside Revern, keeping quiet*

Lilia: I'll train hard...and make Ameki proud...

-----

Lilia: *Smiles slightly*

Livia: *Stares then reaches over, growing a few white roses* Thanks for helping Papa, Mister Ameki

Lilia: *Chuckles* He would've loved you, Livia, he's always been fond of playful kids

Livia: *Smiles at him*

Lilia: *Stands up, dusting his pants off* Let's head back, alright?

Livia: *Stands up and pats grass off her dress* Okay!

Lilia: *Chuckles, Livia bounding ahead of him" Hey, careful!

Livia: Alright!!

Ameki(Spirit): *Lays on a tree branch, smiling* Good job kiddo....good job..

@anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @writing-heiress