#nothing too tragic had happened and i thought i was safe

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

[ponderingmoonlight]

oooo sanemi request - idea - you're training to be a new haishra and are very very very very nice to everyone, queue tragic af backstory and you believe in kindness IDK ok, cruelty made sure you kept your heart soft, but when you are FIGHTING there is nothing but darkness what happens when that trance doesn't leave you for a while & to snap out of it only sanemi is enough?

It's the tiniest bit different from what you requested, but I hope you like it anyway! Also, thank you so much for your cover suggestions 🤍

Sanemi Shinazugawa pulling you out of your trance with his own methods

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: What a kind and tender soul you are, loved by everyone around you. Until you get into a fight. Until the only person who is able to pull you back to reality is the wind hashira coming to safe you.

Warnings: average sanemi language, fluff fluff fluff, some spelling errors since I wasn't able to finish proofreading

„Me telling him? Are you actually insane? You’re the one Kocho-san sent”

“But you came with me. You go tell him!”

“Ain’t no way!”

“Telling me what?”

Their blood freezes in their veins instantly. Over and over, the wind hashira made it all too clear that they aren’t allowed to let you alone. Never. Not on a mission, not when there’s a high risk of you losing yourself. Because once you’re gone, there’s only one person who’s able to pull you back into reality.

“Well…(y/n)-sama…She…”

They don’t even have to finish this sentence for Sanemi to know exactly what’s going on. Are you okay? Are you facing some strong demons at the moment? His heart overfills with rage and anxiety to the point where he can’t take it anymore.

“Didn’t I tell you fools every single fucking time to look out of her? Useless brats. Show me where she is”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

It takes all his inner strength to not slam them into a tree nearby. Those fucking jerks had one job. That’s why he always insists on coming with you, because what if you lose yourself again with no way out but him? What if he’s too far away to drag you into safety in time?

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“Please don’t worry about me all the time, Sanemi. I can’t stand the thought of you being distressed because of me.”

Yeah, to hell with your angelic voice and your kind eyes. Fuck your gorgeous appearance, your uniform that makes you look like an angel walking on earth. You, a true sweetheart who is loved by everyone without any exceptions. And him, who built a wall around his heart only you were able to overcome.

But when you fight against demons, that tender self of yours vanishes into thin air. The second death and fright surround you, you turn into a serial killer who doesn’t show any mercy. Especially towards demons, but when a human comes into your way…

Sanemi picks up his pace in an instant. He can’t allow something like that to happen, he can’t stand that look of deep sorrow written on your face the second you realized what you’ve done in your trance. He just has to make sure this fight ends on time, that he’s able to pull you back into reality like he always does.

He and only him. Not even Shinobu is able to reach your mind when you lose yourself. In fact, no one but Sanemi is. Why on earth him? Out of all people you could trust this much, you somehow chose him. Oh, he definitely doesn’t deserve any of the feelings you hold for him, he doesn’t deserve you even looking his way. After all, everyone sees nothing but a menace in him with even his little brother fearing him to the core.

“(y/n)…s-sama?”

His blood freezes in an instant. There you stand with your arm buried in the chest of the demon lying to your feet and your eyes gleaming bloody red. How long did you fight already? How long has this been going on without him knowing?

“Get away from here before she rips your heads off”, the bars behind him.

You don’t speak, furious orbs now fixated on Sanemi. In the split of a second you dash towards him, ready to slice his throat open with your bare fingernails. Just in time he manages to get a hold of your wrist and push you into the ground, his whole bodyweight now lying on top of you.

“(y/n)”, he mutters softly.

A violent scream escapes your lips, limbs desperately fighting to get away from him. Oh, how much Sanemi hates to see you in that state. Shinobu was never able to find out why you turned into this when facing danger. Despite your tender and warm personality, despite your remarkable sword skills and technique, you lose control over your own mind and body when the situation around you gets too heated.

None of that matters now. Sanemi grabs your body from behind and pulls you into his lap while placing gentle kisses on your neck.

“It’s fine, (y/n). Just come back to me. Those demon are gone, got it?”

The shell of your body still fights for freedom, still doesn’t accept to be held by him.

“Come back, (y/n). I’m here. Everything’s fine.”

Is that…Sanemi talking to you? Your vision is foggy, eyes roaming around what looks like a dark forest. Your whole body is covered in ice cold sweat, your heart hammers so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute.

It happened again.

“Sanemi”, you breathe his name into the night while allowing yourself to collapse against his chest.

You lost yourself again. Did you hurt someone? Why were you here? How-

“Don’t worry, you’re alright.”

“And the-“

“No one got hurt”, he reassures you in an instant.

“I…lost again”, you mumble defeated.

You’re able to control every single fiber in your body, can wield a sword so delicately that Ubayishiki-sama even chose you to join the circle of pillars. But still, you lose yourself when facing a heated fight.

“Don’t worry too much, nothing happened and I was home”, Sanemi mutters into your hair.

“Thank you for coming. And…for everything else. I’m sorry for making such a mess over and over. You must-”

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear you putting yourself down again, (y/n). You’re good, okay? I don’t mind looking after you at all, to be honest.”

You don’t know what came over you. Is it the anger, the frustration over your own disability? You can’t help but swing around, arms wrapped around Sanemi’s larger frame while you allow your head to rest against his steady heartbeat.

“It’s just so frustrating. From one second to the other, I lose the power over my own body. If it wasn’t for you, who know what I’d do to innocent people around. I’m a weapon, Sanemi. To even be considered a hashira-“

“Stop talking nonsense”, he interrupts you gently, his hand pulling your chin up to force you to look at him.

“You’re wiping the floor with our asses in training. Most of us hashira can’t stand a chance against you. You are pure and kind, loved by everyone. We don’t give a single shit about that happening from time to time. And like I said, I’m always here to pull you back into reality.”

“You’re my greatest treasure, Sanemi”, you mutter.

Tears immediately shoot in your eyes, take away that gorgeous sight in front of you. Truth is, you love Sanemi Shinazugawa with all your heart. Since he first barked at you, since you sat underneath a tree the whole night and talked about all the things both of you been through, since he put you out of your episode for the first time. Oh, how much you adore that man.

“Don’t talk nonsense, (y/n). I’m worse than everyone else.”

His heart stings violently when nothing but the truth leaves his mouth. He doesn’t deserve your praise, let alone your glossy orbs staring up at him. Fuck, he shouldn’t even put his arms around you like that. Not when you’re an angel while he’s a no one. Not when you could have anybody else, a man who deserves your kind words, to see your lovely figure every morning after waking up.

“I don’t care about others. You’re the one that I love, Sanemi. Because you make me feel good about myself, because you bring me back to reality when I can’t return on my own. You’re rough, you’re suborn and you can be kind of mean-“

“Only because some of these jerks deserve it”, he grumbles.

“But apart from that, you are a kind and loving man. I can’t help but search for you in a crowd of people, I am forced to ask myself every time what you’d do in my place. You’re constantly on my mind. Your words, your skills, your voice. Just…you. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Stop making fun of me…”

Fuck, he can feel his face heating up in an instant. This can’t be true, right? Why would a girl like you fall for someone like him? Maybe you’re still a little dizzy and can’t understand the meaning of your words, maybe-

“I’d never make fun of you.”

And then your lips meet his. So unexpectedly that his widen eyes stare at your soft features in utter disbelief, so innocently that he can’t help but wonder if he’s dreaming. You, kissing him?

“You’re gonna regret this when you’re clear again, (y/n)”, Sanemi mumbles against your lips.

“Look into my eyes. I am clear, Sanemi. In fact, I’ve never been clearer in my entire life. I love you.”

You kiss him. Over and over, your soft lips brush against yours while he can’t help but wrap his arms around you in a desperate attempt to keep you this close. His heart pounds so loud that you’re definitely able to her it, his fingertips get lost in your hair.

“I love you too, (y/n). Fuck, I love you so much”, he finally replies.

“I’m so lucky for having you.”

“You, lucky to have me? Hell, I’m the luckiest guy on earth”, Sanemi grumbles with his hand gently caressing your cheek.

This is real. Not a cruel trick his spooky brain plays on him, not one of the dreams that keep him up all night wanting more. No, your head really rests against his chest, you really have your arms wrapped around his body still, you really kissed him.

“No wonder it took you so long to come back, Shinazugawa. I didn’t know you were busy with (y/n).”

Sanemi’s heart drops to the floor, both of your head darting towards the direction of that painfully familiar voice in an instant.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, he barks at Obanai in distress.

“Everyone was worried about (y/n) so I came to check”, Obanai replies dryly.

“Oh, thank you so much for looking out for me! But don’t worry, I am fine!”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“GET LOST OR I’LL KILL YOU!”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[patronsaintofelsewhere]

Thoughts on Angel Crowley & Healing from Trauma

(Minor Good Omens S2 Spoilers)

As someone who’s endured my own Trauma and dealt with the resulting PTSD, watching Crowley’s journey from a joyful, silly, and entirely innocent angel to a withdrawn, lonely, hyper-vigilant demon as a result of the Fall both shattered my heart and confronted me with the fact of myself, and I’d like to talk about it. 

When you* experience Trauma, you experience an existential disorientation and a profound sense of grief over the world you thought you knew–one where you were safe and nothing bad had ever happened to you. “Innocence died screaming,” and all that.

You're also therefore mourning the loss of who you were, and struggling to make sense of who you are now. Which is why this conversation is so gut-wrenching:

“I know you.” “You do not know me.” “I knew the angel you were.” “The angel you knew is not me.” 

This dialogue admittedly still makes my eyes swim. It’s reminiscent of the many conversations I’ve had with people close to me who knew me Before and After. Not only are you grieving the loss of your own innocence, so are those around you, and it feels like you’re wearing their loved one’s face like a mask.

And then underneath the grief, there’s a river of–what you’ll later discover is misplaced–guilt. They want you to be who you were. Fuck, you also want to be who you were -- to not have experienced what you did -- but you can’t.

And when they catch a glimpse of something that reminds them of Before-You -- because it's not like that you has just up and vanished, you've just changed -- they say things like, “I feel like I have you back!” Like the After-You is a consolation prize, something to be tolerated while they wait for the Before-You to return.

It’s not malicious. They love you. They want you to be happy. But it just serves as a reminder of your loss and suddenly you’re acutely aware of how alone you are with the Thing that hurt you.

After trauma, you’re lonely and you're afraid. But those emotions make you feel quite naked, because both of those things would require you to depend on other people to feel better and, at this point, the thought of doing that is far too scary, so to the world, you’re angry. Thus begins the cyclical self-fulfilling prophecy.

And that cycle goes a bit like this: People see the mistrust and the bitterness and the volatility (the shield that keeps people at an arm's length and helps you feel safe). They don't see the profound sustained fear underneath, the desperate need to feel seen and accepted. And so people pull away.

And that real or perceived abandonment feeds the monster that’s taken up permanent residence in your ribcage and screams at all hours that you’re not worthy of love, that you’re irreparably broken, and you’ll always be alone. And you pull away from the people that love you. And the cycle repeats. And you start to believe all of the bad things about yourself that the monster tells you.

Being confronted with a character who you adore and who you also relate to closely is bittersweet in that it’s both immensely painful, but also offers you an opportunity to interrupt that cycle, to explore a different -- perhaps more forgiving -- lens through which to view yourself. To practice self-compassion by proxy, if you will. After all, we tend to extend far greater empathy and forgiveness to others than we do to ourselves.

Angel Crowley, "who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty,” (joycrispy) reminded me a lot of “Angel T,” or rather myself before Trauma.

And Crowley's story is tragic. I was heartbroken and angry for him; I felt the depth of the betrayal he experienced at the hands of someone he loved who he'd believed loved him; I found myself wanting to protect him, to comfort him. Crowley did not deserve what happened to him.

And, over a decade later, I realized that I’d finally accepted that I’d been an innocent, just like Crowley had, and I didn't deserve what happened to me, either.

And -- if you find yourself relating to this post -- neither did you.

Once we can tell ourselves that and actually believe it, we can start to lower the shield. We can allow people closer, including ourselves. We can bring the parts of ourselves we may have hidden away back to the surface. We can soften again. We can truly start to heal.

Crowley, at his core, remains the same. He is still kind, deeply loving, playful, silly, and – against all odds – hopeful. But his trauma has changed him; his innocence is gone.

He struggles to trust others; fears abandonment; engages in unhealthy coping mechanisms; finds it easier to prioritize and tend to Aziraphale's needs and desires than his own; and has difficulty expressing his emotions.

But he also gained an abundance of empathy, a deep love for humanity, and a strong sense of justice.

We adore Crowley exactly as he is now; we don't wish for him to be who he was before the Fall. And neither does Aziraphale.

In kind, we won’t be who we were — nor should we try to be — but we can be something new, a different version of ourselves that is equally good, equally worthy, and equally deserving of love. 

After over a decade, I think my Trauma wound has mostly healed, as much as Trauma wounds can, anyway; it’s a dull ache rather than an acute pain. Yet Crowley's story assuaged that remaining hurt like a salve I hadn’t realized I needed.

So thank you to @neil-gaiman for giving us such a beautiful story, and to David Tennant, Michael Sheen, and the rest of the cast and crew who bring the characters we love to life on screen.

Good Omens truly is a gift. May it continue to inspire us to offer kindness and love to ourselves and one another. 🖤

* I am aware that I say “you” when I should use the singular first-person “I,” but I still struggle with this when talking about my own trauma. So I’m using “you” and you, reader, will deal with it x

[americaswritings]

Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part II

Warnings: I haven't read the book (yet), Coriolanus thoughts, mentions of poverty, mentions of violence

Summary: Coriolanus thought he would never see you again after you won the Games and he got banished to the districts. But when he does, he is left to question whether or not he can imagine a life with(out) you.

Words: around 2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: You all asked for it so here it is: Part 2! Thank you so much for all the love on the first one. It truly blew me away!! I really hope you like this part just as much. I tried to capture Coriolanus inner conflict here. Also there will be a third and final part! :)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Masterlist

He hadn't thought he would ever see you again. Not after the gamemaster had sent for him once the games were over and he had found the evidence against him placed on a table.

Evidence that he had helped you, although the rules forbid it.

He had known. There was no denying that and it was below his dignity to pretend so. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do except stare at that evidence and wonder if it had been worth it.

If you had been worth it. Ruining his life.

As he had watched you crumble under his painfilled screams in the arena he had been sure to have ruined yours, but now he figured it might have been mutual.

It was what happened in the games, was a part of it. Only he had never been one and there was a sick feeling inside of him as he thought of how he had been used, had used you, had used resources to save you despite the knowledge that it crossed a line.

It was easy to watch the games and all the ways they manipulated people. Turned children into killers and brought out the deepest, darkest parts of humans. How they got manipulated in turn, by the gamemakers and the capitol. Even their mentors. And sometimes how they manipulated the public and the capitol in an act of quiet revolution.

It was oddly fascinating in a way, to see through those lies and perceptions and untangle them. Like they were all pieces on a chess board and he just had to watch them push each other around, taking out one by one.

But to find out that he had been a part of it too, that he had been played made him feel like just another pawn.

But you had won. Even if he would pay the price for it now, he had gotten you through the games. It filled him with pride and a little...relief to know that he had kept his promise.

He hated not knowing if you were safe now, but at least he had held his word. If something happened to you now, it wasn't on him.

But then why was there no comfort in that thought?

Why did there seem to be no comfort ever again, with you gone and his life torn to shreds. All his hopes and dreams crushed within one night.

Had it been worth it?

It didn't matter if he had done it for the scholarship or to save you. But then why did he suddenly feel filled with doubts?

All his life there had only been two colours: black and white. There was no grey, because he firmly believed in wright or wrong. He thought it pathetic when people weeped over the games and how tragic they were, yet found the uttermost entertainment in them.

The games served a purpose and they promised him one of his own, a university career, so he served them. It didn’t matter what he thought about it.

But now he seemed captured in between those two opposites. He knew rationally that it had been wrong to manipulate your chances so you could win. And he saw now where it had gotten him.

But wouldn't he do the same again?

Being with you, gazing into your eyes and wishing you were by his side was wrong. You came from two different worlds and the odds were against you. But then how had he turned into this man, thinking about a woman, letting his feelings guide his decisions and cloud his judgement?

And it went beyond the grey.

When you had stepped into his life you had introduced colours to it he had never seen before.

Red, not the university red, but the colours of your lips, the blood driping down your arms.

Blue, not the lifeless district blue, but the dress you had worn when you had sang during your interview and he haid laid in a hospital bed, mesmerized by your every word and sound.

Brown, the colour of dirt and poverty, but seemed to exist in uncountable shades on you.

And now that had all been ripped from him, just because he had played smarter than the other students.

His days as a peacekeeper were as dull and lonely as he had expected. He kept his gaze narrow, his weapon close and he didn't let his mind wander.

Because then he would mourn all he had lost and it would turn to anger. Fury. A turmoil of emotion he didn't know how to handle.

Sometimes he wondered if his life had only existed in polarity before and you had shown him spectra and ranges he had never learned to balance.

And it made him mad. At you. Because how dare you show him what love and lust felt like, how light it made him feel and how there seemed nothing else to exist in his thoughts anymore, only to rip it all away and show him the other side of it. The loss and the grief, the uncertanity and fear. The lacking.

Sometimes he wondered if he was going mad. Here he was damned to a life in the districts, a simple life, despite knowing he had been born for big things. It was in the name. Snow lands on top.

He pretended to be numb and hollow on the outside, but inside of him raged a storm of emotions that broke him bit by bit. Soon there would be not much left of his pride. To his sanity.

He had convinced himself he wasn't thinking about you anymore.

That his dreams of you were just evidence of his growing madness. And that the hopelessness he felt when he persuaded himself you were likely somewhere far away and not thinking of him anymore didn't exist.

But all the lies he had build opon came crashing down when he caught a glance of that blue, that red and brown and he knew. Knew without a doubt.

His hand was locked around your wrist before he could think about the movement and he dragged you away and into a dark alley, his big hand clasped over your mouth to swallow your screams and his body trapping yours against the wall.

His gaze flickered around to make sure no one saw you, then he allowed himself to look at you.

Your eyes were wide open, staring at him in a mixture of shock, fear and disbelief. Carefully he lowered his hand, his hand tangling in your hair. He had always wanted to do that.

But he didn't step away. He needed to make sure this was real, that you were real. “You're here."

You swallowed, eyes flickering over his face and then the uniform. You frowned, then carefully touched his head. "Your hair- it's gone."

"Not completely."

"It's short." You smiled and he felt his lips curve into one as well, all previous anger swallowed by the reality that you were here. That he hadn't lost everything. He had you know.

"Why are you here? Why are you one of them?" He ignored the way your tone changed and you practically spit out the word. "They found out how I helped you. It was against the rules."

He couldn't keep to himself any longer, not after he had fantasised about you for so long and his hand travelled over your neck, your jaw, cupped your cheek.

Finally, you were his.

He would have leaned down and kissed you, but the look in your eyes stopped him. "I thought you were hurt. I- I thought you were dead!"

Tears were shimmering in the soft light that the moon cast over your face and he caught them and wiped them away with his thumb when they spilled over your cheeks.

"It wasn't my voice in the arena. They used the birds to-" "I know that!" You let out a breath. "But everything they said- you said that to me. Word by word."

He waited silently for you to continue. "But then the screams-" "They weren't real", he tried to soothe you, but you shook your head. "But if everything else was, then...", you trailled of, but he knew what you thought anyway.

"They manipulated you. That's why they used my real words against you, to convince you that it was really me, my voice, so that you would believe everything."

"So they didn't-" You looked at him with so much fear that he almost smiled. "They didn't do anything to me. I sat there watching like I did the whole time."

"But then...how they did to it? And how did they listen to us all this time?"

He knew what you were really asking. Had he known? Had he known about it, but never thought it important enough to mention or worse had he intentionally not told you, because of his own motifs?

Shaking his head slightly he let out a sigh. "I don't know", he admittted. "How do they do anyting?"

You looked at him a second longer before nodding, deciding that you would trust him.

His hand ran down your arms now and he noted in satisfaction that you shivered under the touch. He was sure it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Where were you? After you won?"

After he had yelled at the game master to let you out. Many times.

"Here and there." You shrugged, but he wanted to know more. Needed to know more.

“That's not enough."

Would it ever be? Now that he was in the district and you were here too. Was that enough?

It wasn't the big house, the uniform and status. It wasn't Tigris smile. And it wasn't power.

It was just you and him, a whole lot of dirt, hunger and sickness. Lacking. Was that a life he could settle for?

Until now this had only been a station in his life. He would get back to the capitol and claim what belonged to him or else he would not see a future for himself.

But now things were different.

"I didn‘t know where to go. I thought after the games my life would be different, but I am still here and everything's the same except that I'm a killer.“

You closed your eyes and an expression of pain crossed your face. He let out a breath as he tried to soothe away the frown. "Don't say that." "But it's true." You looked at him with loathing in your eyes.

"You gave me the tools to kill and I used them. We’re both guilty."

"So? Everyone is. It's what needed to be done." He didn't get your fuss. All that mattered was you and him and you had gotten that.

"I would still make the same choices." "You would?" He nodded. "You matter more than them."

You frowned, heaviness in your eyes. "I don't." "To me you do."

It was true. He didn't know much, didn't understand these new feelings, but this one thing he could promise you was the truth.

Closing your eyes you leaned your foreheads against each other's, finding a glimmer of peace in each others presence. "To me you do too."

It was barely above a whisper, but he opened his eyes to search yours. For a moment you were locked in each other's gazes, but even though it felt like it in this moment, you would never have all the time in the world.

Cupping your cheek a final time Coriolanus closed the distance between you.

Your lips were dry and tasted a little like salt where the tears had touched them, but he savoured the feeling. Your body was trapped between the wall and his and he wanted to explore every part of it, make you completely and utterly his.

The kiss was all shades and ranges of colour he didn‘t know existed and he only knew he wanted more of it. It was addicting, this new feeling that only you seemed to hold the key to.

When you broke apart a sad smile hung on your lips. Before he could ask you about it you cast your eyes down. "They are talking about us. In the capitol. When they used your voice and I...fell for it- they made it into a whole story."

He closed his eyes. He had considered that possibility, yet he hated how he felt the control slipping from him. He had always contained an image and now he felt like other people were deciding it.

"They will forget about it." "They won't. You know it. I can't ever go back."

When he opened his eyes again he saw shock and understanding in yours. "But you...want to go back", you concluded and he didn't deny it. It had always been the scholarship for him, the way up.

He was a Snow, born into greatness. It was his duty to claim what should have been his all along.

You ducked away and took a step to the side, bringing a distance between your bodies he hated.

"This is not my life." You knew that, didn‘t you? Or had you expected him to give up everything for what…love? This feeling of lightness and colour and sweetness?

Even if it gave him a flicker of lust and the power he yearned for, it was not the same.

Because even if your love was strong enough, it would never exist without hunger, worry and a job below his worth. And he was tired, so tired of living like that.

That was why he had taken on the mentorship in the first place. Why he had even gone to such lengths to get the public to pay attention to you and then to save you.

For a different life. A better one. A life in the district was far from it.

Your eyes flickered around as you took in your own district. The one he had spent his last money on just for the possibility to see you again.

And you were standing right in front of him, yet you seemed even farer away now than you had in the arena.

"But it's mine."

Silence settled between you as both of you considered the meaning of your words.

"So all of this...for nothing? You say all these things to me, that you won't let me die and that I'm different and then you break the rules to save me only for what?!"

You shook your head furiously. Desperately. "So you can go back to the capitol and pretend this never happened?!"

He should have felt outrage, but for the first time since he had been sent to the gamemaster and learned his fate he felt numb inside.

"No."

You stared at him in bewilderment, your face a portrayal of the storm of emotion he had felt trapped inside of him for so long. "I would never pretend", he took a stride towards you.

“You changed me. And I think I changed you."

His hands found your face again and to his own surprise you let it happen. "We belong with each other."

You stared at him, a deep sadness in your eyes as you silently shook your head.

"Only not in this world", you whispered, ducking away from his touch and disappearing into the shadows without another word.

He stood there, staring at the spot you had vaished, a part of him leaving with you.

Part 3

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PERMANENT

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[vanilladove]

hiii hello vani<3 may i request smt angsty with dazai and reader in which he’s acting neglectful/unfaithful as a partner and you just deal with it? but you don’t hate him or anything you’re just really sad about it hehe tysm ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

☾⋆.ೃ࿔* ghostin

gif creds fybugoustraydogs | divider creds benkeibear

₊ ⊹☁ pairing: dazai x gn!reader

₊ ⊹☁ genre: angst :,)

₊ ⊹☁ content warnings: distant/neglectful relationships; canon mentions of double suicide bc dazai lol...i couldn't bring myself to write a cheating dazai i'm sorry T~T inspired by ghostin + better off by ariana grande!

₊ ⊹☁ word count: 1.9k

You shivered under the cold sheets when your alarm had woken you up. The space next to you was empty, your lover nowhere to be found.

It had been like this for months now, but it was nothing new due to the nature of his job. Dazai always became distant right before handling a new enemy for the Armed Detective Agency. He only disclosed vague details to you, explaining that withdrawing himself was a way to protect you since he didn’t want enemies knowing about you. Before leaving, he’d muttered something about keeping you away from “the demon”.

But you had to admit, the feeling of being 'safe' from a far away, unknown enemy didn't compare to being wrapped in your lover's arms, the soft kisses on your forehead, gently running your hands through his brown fluffy hair, and whispering sweet nothings to eachother. You missed his corny jokes and the nights you two would have together after drinking too much sake, giggling on the floor and watching the stars on your open balcony—Dazai always pointing out the constellations and telling you the stories and lore behind each one.

He had been staying at a secret location far from your shared apartment, so the sheets didn’t smell like his musky, warm cologne anymore. The space felt ghostly now, and hanging out with your friends barely helped. Stirring a sugar cube and cream into your morning coffee, the things they said repeated in your head.

“Just break up with him..."

"You don’t deserve someone who ignores you—especially if he puts work above you…”

"He's definitely cheating on you with all the travel he's always away on..."

Your friends didn’t understand though. They didn’t understand the depth of your relationship or how Dazai loved you. He was a reserved man; he didn't let anyone into his heart, always putting on a flamboyant front to mask his true self. Even becoming his partner and finally moving in with him was a feat in itself and was something he'd hesitantly accepted. You knew he had a traumatic upbringing and that the ones he cared for eventually left his life, often in a tragic way; the last thing his broken heart could take was losing you.

Which was why you put up with the cold sheets in the morning, the single serving meals, and all the sad movie nights alone—because deep down, you knew he cared about you. Your lonely conscious couldn't handle any other explanation.

You tiredly shaped the triangular onigiri filled with snow crab and placed it in the wooden bento box, along with some tamagoyaki and salad, savoring the momentary heat in your hands. It was Dazai's favorite lunch—something you used to pack for him everyday. You forcibly dragged yourself out of bed to make it for him after receiving a text—from an unknown number, of course—that he was stopping by the apartment to grab something. You knew it was futile waking up early; it wouldn't stop him from leaving with no explanation, from not being targeted by the port mafia, the hunting dogs, or "the demon". How silly and lovesick you were.

Closing the lid, you put the dishes in the sink and placed a piece of bread into the toaster, staring intently as you waited for it to finish, which seemed like forever. You took a sip from your mug, cringing when the lukewarm liquid touched your tongue. Shit, your coffee had gone cold. That never happened when he was still there.

The lock clicking snapped you out of your somber thoughts, and you turned your head around to face the self-inviting visitor. Gaze softening, you admired the tall man in front of you, wrapped in a tan trench coat, which you instinctively slipped off from behind him, his tense shoulders relaxing under your fingertips as you draped the coat on a nearby chair. Wordlessly, you both exchanged melancholic glances before Dazai made the first move, stepping forward to close the space between you two. His slender fingers slowly came up to caress your face, the foreign touch making your cheeks heat up. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and placed a soft kiss on your cold lips, "Hi, bella."

Forcing yourself to open your lids again and not overindulge in the much needed contact, you smiled at your lover, but it didn't quite connect back to your eyes, "Welcome hom—errr—back...You needed something from here, right?" You replied, choosing your words carefully so he couldn't hear your evident desperation.

Dazai blinked carefully, "Yeah, a flash drive. It's in one of the kitchen cabinets. Is it fine if I look around for a bit?" You nodded, looking down at the tiled floor and smiling at nothing. Dazai was always like that, hiding important things in the most impractical places as a precaution. As he fished through the cabinet, he turned his head briefly to look down at the abandoned mug sitting on the counter, "Is that for me?"

You wiped the nostalgic grin off your face, reaching for your coffee, which you'd made in Dazai's usual mug, "A-Ah, no. It's mine, sorry," Dazai raised an eyebrow at you, "I made it earlier this morning, but it's cold now. I'll make you some more." You offered, trying to brush off his suspicions and the strange looks he was giving you.

He sighed, stroking your hair lightly, "It's fine, darling, brew yourself a new cup, and I'll drink this one." He gave you one last reassuring pat before picking up the mug and slipping away into your shared room to look for something else, giving you no time to protest. What seemed like a sweet gesture really had a double meaning: I'm not staying long enough for a new batch of coffee, so I'll just take the cold cup.

A pit formed in your stomach as you dumped out the used coffee filter and reached for a new one. Your vision started to blur, stopping you before you could open the lid of the coffee grounds. Wet drops falling on the back of your hands made you realize you were crying. Instinctively, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth and block any sobs from Dazai, who was still next door in your bedroom.

Stop it.

You tried to coerce yourself, but you couldn't help it. The despair was too agonizing; to have the one you needed most close to you but not being able to tell them to stay, to hold you, especially since you knew how precious you were to him—if you asked, he'd drop everything to stay the night with you. Everyone at the ADA was aware of that, which was why they'd sat you down and conveyed that you couldn't dote too much on Dazai. You understood that and had stayed by his side anyways, knowing that being with him sometimes was better than never. Even if it broke your heart in the process. Even if it meant crying silently in the kitchen while your lover was in the next room, oblivious to the tears wetting your sleeves.

Deep down, you wished he would notice the pain you were in. You wished he would text and call you more or at least take you out to dinner and do special things when he'd finally come back, but he always resumed your daily routines almost like he'd never left. It made your heart ache, feeling like he disregarded his long leaves and their effects on you. You sniffled quietly and quickly wiped your tears away upon hearing rustling from the bedroom doorway signaling that Dazai was almost done grabbing what he needed.

Inhaling deeply, you breathed in and out slowly to calm your frantic heart and turned to the side to face the counter as your partner walked back into the kitchen.

"Found what you were looking for?" You asked, trying to cover your face with your hair and sneakily wipe away any residual tears.

Dazai swiftly passed by you, going towards the chair to slip his trench coat back on and grab the lunch you'd made him. "Yeah, I found it. Thanks for the bento and coffee by the wa—" Your eyes widened as he trailed off mid-sentence, all of a sudden feeling his presence next to you. He bent down to peer over at your face, evidently still swollen and a bit red from crying.

He rotated your body towards him and pushed the stay hairs from your face, intently observing your features. "Bella, have you been crying?" He stroked your cheeks delicately, "And your eyebags are so dark...have you been getting enough sleep?" He looked genuinely worried, peering into your eyes for any sort of insights, but it was too hard to maintain eye contact with him.

"I'm fine...I—" You muttered, words trapped in your throat.

Tell him you miss him. That you don't want him to leave you again.

No, don't! Let him walk out as usual. Your sadness isn't worth letting a countless number of innocent people get harmed or killed.

Thoughts conflicting and wearing your tired soul out, you only mustered a weak smile, placing your cold hands on top of Dazai's. "If I died now, would you still die with me?"

"What?"

"You promised we'd commit a double suicide together. Would you still—" Dazai's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his warmth and comforting scent making tears fall again, not knowing the next time he would be back. You cursed yourself internally for breaking down in front of him, but you couldn't hold your emotions in any longer. He only held you silently, running his hands through your hair as you sobbed into his chest. You felt lightheaded, crying for several minutes, the only condoling things being the scent of Dazai's cologne and the way he held you to remind you he was still with you.

You looked up from his chest, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes, which were swirling with uncertainty. A pained expression was on his face, no doubt from your actions. "I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry..." He lifted your face up to kiss your lips gently and kiss away your salty tears before pulling you back into his chest. "I was selfish to think you wouldn't be hurt by me always being away. I tried to turn a blind eye to focus on work, but..." He exhaled shakily, "...somehow I always hurt the people closest to me...even the one I love the most."

Dazai squeezed you tighter in his arms, "I love you, and I know we'll get past this, darling. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, please don't think of resorting to that." He cradled your face, forcing you to look up at his broken eyes.

This was the power you had over him. Prison, criminals, and even the mafia couldn't break him anymore, but your tears could melt his gaudy, confident facade instantaneously and bring him to his knees. Exactly what everyone warned you about.

You nodded slowly, the last of your cry session being wiped away by Dazai's thumbs. You hugged him back, listening as his rampant heartbeat went back to normal, staring off to the side.

"Listen, bella, I'm going to be gone for a few months. I suspect I'm going to be arrested and sent to a high-security prison...probably somewhere overseas. We won't—we won't be together for a while." You heaved, holding your breath, "But," He turned your head to face him, "I'm going to stay here for a couple of days until then. Is that okay?"

Before you could think, you crashed your lips on his, and Dazai only happily kissed back, smiling, grateful to have cheered up his love again.

"Y-Yeah, that's fine. I love you, Osamu." You sniffled back. He could stay forever if he wanted to, but you'd take a few days.

"I love you, too, bella. I always will, even when I'm not with you. Enough for the both of us."

[amongemeraldclouds]

Mattheo’s Gamble

Anguished by your tragic passing in the Second Wizarding War, Mattheo makes a bet with the Grim Reaper to get you back (features different AUs)

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Official entry for @thatdammchickennugget's Hogmarch challenge, prompt 3.

Author's note: Steering off the prompt a bit as I have no idea how to write sports so here's another 'game' I thought of. I usually prefer writing full fics but this idea is so complex, enjoy this bite sized version instead.

✿ Masterlist | 677 words

♡ They had no right to take you away from him, Mattheo seethes as he strides into the Grim Reaper's lair.

♡ He had sacrificed way too much in the war only to lose what's most important to him in the end.

♡ Mattheo pleads his case, the Grim Reaper has to revive you. You are meant to be together in every single lifetime, losing you in this one is a mistake. It was never meant to happen.

♡ Mattheo doesn't actually know if it's true, but he is desperate.

♡ The Grim Reaper agrees to his request, if he wins a wager. He and Mattheo will visit three different lifetimes to test his theory. If proven correct that you always end up together across different lives, Grim Reaper is ready to correct the mistake and revive you fully, as if you never left at all.

♡ But if Mattheo is wrong, he would have to spend a hundred years in damnation. Mattheo believes he has nothing left to lose so he agrees to the wager with no hesitation.

Ancient Egypt AU

⛺︎ In the first lifetime Mattheo and the Grim Reaper visit, you are the pharaoh's daughter, beloved by all people.

⛺︎ Mattheo is the high court magician, highly favored by your father.

⛺︎ You and Mattheo grew up together and eventually become lovers. Your father would not approve if he found out so you keep it a secret.

⛺︎ Meanwhile, your father is arranging a strategic marriage for you.

1800s AU

☾ You and Mattheo meet while taking an extended vacation with your family. He’s staying in the same hotel as you and you become fast friends.

☾ It doesn't take long for the two of you to fall in love and promise to write each other letters to stay in touch.

☾ After your departure, you send him a letter but never hear from him again, thinking he has moved on.

☾ Forty years later, a mailman takes his last shift before retirement. While clearing an old pile of mail, he finds your letter wedged in between cabinets. Mattheo never received your letter.

☾ The mailman takes it upon himself to track down Mattheo to deliver your letter, his first adventure after retiring.

Mafia AU

⭐︎ The final life Mattheo and the Grim Reaper visit. You and Mattheo come from two warring gangs. He's one of the leaders of his gang, whereas your father is the leader in their rival gang.

⭐︎ To keep you safe, your father hid his world away from you and the mafia doesn’t know much about your existence either.

⭐︎ One day, your father disappears. To investigate his whereabouts, you go undercover in the rival gang to gather intel. They assign you to the subgroup that Mattheo leads.

Between the Grim Reaper and Mattheo

♡ The Grim Reaper reveals he chose the hardest timelines for you and Mattheo to end up together. During their journey across the different AUs, the Grim Reaper throws in more obstacles on your path.

♡ "Filthy cheater," Mattheo accuses the Grim Reaper.

♡ "Did you think I was going to go easy on you?" he replies with a cold smile. "I thought you were so sure about this little connection of yours.”

♡ Mattheo grits his teeth but says nothing further.

♡ In the end, you make your relationship work and end up together every single lifetime, against all odds. Thus proving that love is its own kind of magic. And oh, it is one of the most powerful.

♡ The Grim Reaper is amused by the whole wager and holds up his end of the bargain by reuniting you back with Mattheo.

♡ "How?" you ask, looking into Mattheo's eyes once you get a moment to catch your breath from all the happy tears and the vice grip of his embrace.

♡ "Would you believe me if I told you it was the power of love?" he asks.

♡ You laugh, "who are you and what have you done with my Mattheo?"

♡ "I'm right here love and you're here," he says, pulling you back into another hug, savoring the moment. Just as it was always meant to be, he thinks.

Cue Taylor Swift's Timeless: 'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this so, even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: Changed the name to the Grim Reaper bc tumblr shadowbanned the original name starting with D.

Inspired by: The (Unalived) Hallows, Cloud Atlas, Doctor Who, Letters to Juliet, reading the Akashic Records.

[mischiefandlies]

The answer to all your prayers

Loki x f!Reader

Masterlist

Notes: CRACK FIC!!! This was so much fun to write. Enjoy!

Warnings: Smutty with no actual smut. Mentions masturbating, but there's no real description. Also, Loki has a megapenis (we've all seen that gif, y'know what I'm talking about).

You were fresh out of college when you landed a job working as an apprentice technician for Stark industries. You were exceptional at physics and aerodynamics, so ended up working on the newest designs for an iron man suit Tony was working on. Due to your position, you had ended up becoming quite chummy with the avengers.

Pepper had recently been trying to set you up after hearing about your tragic love life. The truth of it was, you had been on a spree of first dates in college, but they had all been so disastrous you had sworn off dating until you were a little older and had enough time to actually go on dates properly. This, however, had left you a little inexperienced around… sex. You had been wanting to lose your V card for a while now, but knew that if anyone was going to take you to heaven and back, you wanted it to be someone you trusted. You weren’t up for playing hide the sausage with just anyone.

Enter Loki. A handsome devil (literally), hung like a horse (literally) with magic fingers (also literally). Loki may not have been worthy, but he certainly had a hammer and he knew how to swing it. He also had Ye Olde Viking charm, quick wit, and happened to be a fairly good friend of yours. The two of you had a habit of getting flirty, then backing off and letting nothing ever come of it. You'd been safely sat in the friendzone for quite a while.

Which was how you found yourself here- lying in your birthday suit, in your apartment in stark tower, dreaming about a certain tall dark and handsome norse god. You could imagine it all perfectly. How he’d slowly crawl over, kissing your lips, prising them open to invade your mouth with his tongue. He'd slowly work his way south, kissing your neck, collarbones, chest, then further south, until he reached your dripping-

DING DONG

Who the fuck is ringing your doorbell at this time of night? And why did it have to be just as you were mid wank?

DING DONG

You stumbled around in the dark, pulling your PJs back on, ready to give Tony a bollocking for knocking on your front door at twenty to midnight. You're hoping this will be a quick conversation so you get right back to the dirty fantasies about your coworker who had done nothing but make you More infatuated since you met him.

You open the door, and are met with…

“Loki!?”

He was looking incredibly dapper in that black suit, which you immediately dreamed about ripping to shreds in a state of feral horniness. If anyone could look like sex incarnate wrapped up in a gorgeous designer suit, it was him.

“Loki! What- er, what are you doing here?”

He smiles “I heard you.”

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry the place is a mess, I wasn’t expecting company, otherwise I would’ve made a-”

He cuts you off mid-sentence, pressing his lips to yours. You immediately kiss him back with all the fervour you can muster, until reality comes crashing down on you and you push him back. He keeps you close to him, refusing to let you out of his embrace even if he has stopped kissing you. When you finally get your breath back (you appeared to have been too busy sucking his tongue to breathe) you look him dead in the eye and ask

“What the fuck was that!?”

He smiles again. “I heard your prayer.”

“My… prayer?”

“Oh yes, angel,” he says. “You’ve been praying to me for weeks. It's like I'm in your thoughts all the time. It's been hard to concentrate in those dull meetings when all I can hear is your delicious fantasies in my head. And every night my darling- you really are obsessed, aren’t you?”

You are mortified. “Loki, I'm so sorry, I didn’t realise I was doing that. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Shh love. There's no need to apologise. I find it all quite amusing. You are rather adventurous with your fantasies. But there’s one that you keep thinking about, isn’t there angel?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “The one where I claim you. Where I am the first to have you. Where I make you mine.”

He pulls you tight against him, and bends down as if to kiss you. However, you are slightly distracted by the HUGE boner poking you in the thigh. You pull away slightly and glance down. There was a fucking great tent in Loki’s trousers. By Christ, how had you never noticed he was that big before? “Hold it Lokes. I don’t think mini mischief is gonna fit.”

He looks down at you, confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I’d love to be fucked into next Tuesday, but you’re putting the long in schlong, and I kinda need to be able to walk tomorrow.”

His eyebrows have risen to halfway up his forehead now. “Is it normal for humans to speak in riddles before intercourse?”

“All I’m saying is your bellend is going to end me. You can’t go cave diving if you don’t fit in the cave.”

He rolls his eyes, and covers your mouth with his hand. “Darling, I have no idea what your saying. Yes or no, do you want to have sex with me?”

“Well, yes, but-”

You can’t finish your sentence because Loki has thrown you over his shoulder (giving you a spectacular view of his arse) and marches the two of you to the bedroom, setting you gently on the bed.

“Now my dear, I believe as a benevolent god, I am obligated to make all your prayers come true.”

“Loki?”

“Yes love?”

“You didn’t see all my prayers, did you?”

He looks down at you with a wolfish grin.

You are so fucked (literally).

The gif from earlier btw:

[justjudethoughts]

You know who I think we don't talk about enough? Robin. One of the few things I dislike about the books is how flippantly he is discussed — the way Lockwood sort of jokes about how he has "past on" in Lucy's interview, and how George and Lucy talk about how she is the best assistant they have ever had, because Robin "panicked and ran off the roof." The nonchalance seems too calloused, even for Lockwood and George, especially given what we learn later about Lockwood's goal to protect people. So here are some thoughts I have:

I think Robin was fairly young, inexperienced, and one of the only people they could even hire. I think George and Lockwood found him a bit annoying— they were far from great friends with him. But the company was young, and they needed a third person. Robin kinda looked at Lockwood as an older brother. Despite Robin's general inexperience and skittishess, he wanted the job. Lockwood told him, time and time again, that he didn't have to stay. Robin wanted to stay. Wanted to get braver. And Lockwood did everything he could to help make Robin a better agent. Always had his back, tried to keep him safe. Gave him fencing lessons. He never liked Robin. But he was there for him.

And then the accident happened. There was nothing Lockwood or George could have done. They had tried to correct his skittish behavior before. They had trained him. They had done everything except fire him. And it wasn't enough. The guilt would have been crushing if Lockwood and George hadn't made an unspoken vow with each other not to talk about it. To use buisness terms only. No discussion of Robin as a friend, as a younger brother. He was simply a tragically inexperienced agent who didn't take their advice. A little on the annoying side. Good kid, a bit of a pest.

Like everything else, Lockwood stores this away deep inside him. Another person who died after being around him.

When Danny Skinner shows up in the living room, Lockwood's blood freezes. His air, his build — it's all Robin.

[002yb]

Hi! i love your blog <3 and I wanted to ask if you have any ideas/headcanons surrounding a Jason that was ressurrected maybe a decade or two later than in canon and his relationships with Bruce or Dick or Damian or Talia (if all of them are even alive by them)

No thoughts, just same-age!Damian+Jason!AU ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! Or rather, Batman!Dick + Robin!Damian save resurrected!Jaybin.

Where Jason is resurrected ten years later and what happened a decade ago still feels like minutes prior. In his mind, it's not a casket and six feet of dirt Jason digs himself out of, but gravel and shrapnel. He's still just as hurt, just as scared, but it doesn't matter. Jason's awake and alive and he wants Bruce.

Nothing registering beyond that yearning to feel safe. Nothing mattering but going home. The trauma hitting hard and leaving him a wreck of a boy who just wants to apologize and be told that it's okay — that he is okay.

Jason wants to go back. Desperately. Tragically.

What he gets is this: the familiarity of Gotham with all its crime and corruption. The icy pinpricks of rain beating down on him. The daring hands of twisted men that pull him down alleys and laugh when he struggles. And yet it's not them who Jason hears...

HAhahHAhAHAhaHa!

Jason gets away after laying the men out flat. And that's when someone sneaks up behind him and Jason lashes out—only to get laid out flat, himself. By Robin.

Jason being in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Choking on a relieved sob because Robin is alive and safe. And that Robin came for him. But then realizing that can't be right because Jason is right here.

Something something one of the men stirring and looking to retaliate. Before Robin can act though, Jason flips them around. Protective on instinct despite Robin's protest (because Robin had it handled and now a 'civilian' is getting erroneously injured)

Enter: Batman

And Jason doesn't see him because of how he wraps himself around Robin, but he hears him—a familiar flutter of a cape and just like that, Jason is drawn to him. Sitting back to straddle Robin while looking over his shoulder at a dark shadow. Breaking at the sight of him, eyes welling with tears and lip trembling because Jason is still fifteen and just went through hell and he's sorry. He's so fucking sorry, don't be mad at him. Take him back, please. Please. He'll be better this time. He'll be good.

Robin's complaints falling on deaf ears as Jason stumbles to his feet, taking staggering steps towards Batman before Jason runs to him. Throwing himself into Batman's chest, arms wrapped tight around him.

Sobbing when those arms would come around him—as a hand would tangle in his hair and pull him impossibly close so as to not lose him again.

But it's wrong. Everything is wrong.

Because this isn't Bruce. It's Dick.

Still, they hold Jason like he's dear even as they sink to the ground with Jason half curled in their lap; broken over Jason and stealing his breath with how desperately they cling to him.

Robin!Damian not understanding what's happened with this emotionally distraught child or why it is that his partner looks like he's seen a ghost, why he looks damn near to tears. 'Pull yourself together. (¬_¬")'

Jason only placing who it is when Dick pulls away from him to look Jason over. It's the warmth of Dick's hands that come to rest on either side of Jason's face, thumbing away tears and dirt and grime. Tentative, gentle. It's the stormy blue of his eyes behind the cowl and that gravity that's always been about him that draws Jason in.

The sobs die down, choked down as Jason comes to the conclusion that he came back wrong. Because Dick is older. Because Bruce is gone.

A quiet moment where these two look at each other before they rest their foreheads together and Jason mourns too many losses. Because it's his turn for that now, it seems.

Bruce, dead. Dick, burdened by a hero's cause; clipped and caged by a mantle that never fit him, that he never wanted. It's sad. It's awful. What a terrible future.

Jason's only consolation? The Joker is dead. Killed by Dick's hand (as Nightwing's last hurrah). Also, Alfred, of course. But yes, very much an AU of 'making the best of it.' Also, an AU where it's all batboys coping with loss and moving forward together.

Extra thoughts:

Jason's body healing poorly, so resuming his role as Robin is a precarious thing. And being told 'no,' even temporarily (spoilers: it's not temporary), leads to the greatest of temper tantrums because the loss is too much. Because where does Jason fit if not as Robin? What purpose does he have? Robin was his connection with this family, with Bruce; don't take that away.

Just something with Jason going after Damian to literally fight for Robin's role. Only Damian lays Jason out flat. And he's not trying to be mean, but Damian is blunt about the circumstances. The truth is that Jason doesn't compare to him (condition, training, etc). Let it go.

Which upsets Jason more because denial. But Damian fights with him until Jason tires himself out. Taking hits and giving them back because Jason is acting a child.

Then Dick pulls Jason back and Jason screams in that way that breaks into a broken sob and oh.

Dick having to talk Jason down.

His heart breaking because Jason feels that Robin is taken from him not because he's physically incapable or because he's being looked down on—it's punishment. But he's sorry. Let him help. He'll listen this time. He swears it.

Just Jason being so beaten down and devastated because everything fell apart in an instant and he can't make anything right no matter how he tries.

All the mourning and regrets and guilt. It drowns him. He chokes on it.

Something something Dick helping Jason find his purpose again.

Something something Jason helping Dick find his purpose at the same time (because the Batman struggles are suffocating him, too).

More thoughts:

A talk between Dick and Jason at some point about how Dick always thought it would be Jason to take the cowl. Which baffles Jason because what. But Dick is being honest. ;3;

Jason being resigned to live as a ghost until Dick pushes him to be social (don't need to be legally alive to go to a book club, little wing).

Ahhhh, petulant Jason dragging his feet as he's dropped off at aforementioned book club. But then he gets to chatting with old ladies about some classics and some recommendations from over the past decade and it's not a bad time.

Oh. The old ladies flirting with Alfred whenever Alfred comes by ahahahaha.

Also, especially in the earlier days, Alfred not letting Jason wallow and carting him about the manor to help with chores, instead. And just being this quiet, supportive presence as Jason processes everything.

Sometimes Jason gets disoriented because Alfred looks so much older. Sometimes he gets teary eyed when he looks at Jason - overwhelmed with a gratefulness Jason doesn't understand because time passed so differently for them

Oh. Also, no more meta rule for Gotham because Dick doesn't give a fuck? So Jason can befriend all the heroes. Just Dick's (and Tim's) support network becoming Jason's.

Speaking of Tim. He's around. I don't know what he does, but Jason probably accidentally ends up being nice to him (impressed by Tim's competency and how it's a relief that someone so capable stepped in when Jason was gone and--) and Tim is mortally wounded forever by the praise from his second Robin lol.

Also, Dick and Jason developing this really sweet relationship because they got each other through times where they were struggling and were vulnerable and it just fostered a really warm sort of trust between them.

Random scene:

Something with Dick being worn thin and crumbling beneath the weight of everything Batman is. Hating life, but bearing it.

Jason sitting with him and taking the cowl off. Commenting on Dick's unhappiness. Leveling with Dick that this will kill him, same as Bruce.

It's hard because Batman is a symbol for this city, but the truth is that Batman has never been her only hero. She's had many - she'll have more. She can't have Dick.

Jason scrubs away some of the eye black and smiles a bit when he catches Dick's gaze. So damn blue.

Dick turning into the touch, sighing into the heel of Jason's palm. Gentle and reverent and for just a moment - Jason is taken aback by it all. The closeness, the familiarity and intimacy. This is all they could have been, huh? Or rather, it's all they are. All they've become.

So much changed and so much will. And it can get better. Loss still haunts him, but there are still safe places for him, safe people.

This AU runs away from me, but yes. Feelings. (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

Also, hi. Hello. Thank you for loving my blog. //3///

[judesmoonbeauty]

IkeVil Act 2 Prologue Thoughts & Theories

This will contain spoilers, and some 18+ remarks at the end, so MDNI. Please see under the cut. As usual, these are just my thoughts and feelings.This is a word salad. And not that this is important or anything, but I was totally listening to Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake while writing this.

My first thought is: That's it?! With the Act 1 prologue being as long as it is, and even with other IkeSeries games like Pri, I felt it was too short. I was expecting and wanting more. Perhaps, Cybird will release more later, but I doubt it. Seems that they are keeping Vogel underwraps as much as they can. Less is more, maybe that's what they were thinking?

Next: The spotlight is on Vogel (as it should be), since they're apparently debuting with Roger's route. We're excited to meet them, still I didn't like that other than Victor and Harry (with his two lines of actual dialogue), no other Crown members had any lines. Their sprites just pop up (sans William because he's away per Victor), to show that they were present. Where is that amazing stare-off that went down in Roger's PV?

Tell me this wasn't it! Hopefully, we get more of their first meeting within the first chapter of each of their main stories. Which leads me to......

When Act 2 Takes Place: It takes place a week after Kate's tenure of being the Fairytale Keeper begins, and honestly, I LOVE that. We need a change of pace. Now, don’t get me twisted, there's nothing wrong with seeing her start her journey from the very beginning, but consider:

Act 2 is supposed to delve deeper into the topic of the Curse itself from what I understand. If that's the case, we need to move things along. It would make storytelling easier (I feel), if Kate has already spent a week with the villains and isn't completely ignorant about curses.

Also, we're moving further along in the routes, which tend to become progressively darker with each route passing (my opinion), not starting from the day after she arrives at the Castle will allow the writers to delve deeper into things, and give us more chapters for - hopefully - more lore.

I mean when Roger's route finally releases, I'd expect maybe some flashbacks in chapter one of the night after Kate bumps into them on their mission, and then she agrees to be his assistant. I don't personally want an entire chapter or three of that, and I would love to see Kate already with a week's worth of experience of working with Jude & Ellis (when Jude's route releases). I want her to be someone who is already capable, not stumbling around with (How do I prove myself?), we already know how she needs to do this, as she's demonstrated in their events. Let's skip that and get to the good stuff. Now about the new meat on the market.....

Darius: Well, we all know that we can't trust him, and he's super interested in William for some reason. I'd love to see that meeting happen. His disappointed face made me chuckle when he was told that William was away, and you can clearly tell that he isn't a fan of Victor. WHY?? Is it the scones? Is it because Victor keeps his precious Cursed babies safe from those who may try to destroy his family? Can't wait for the explanation, because as Victor has said in the past, he doesn't want his time with Crown to end, and Darius seems like the one who is going to end it. I know Darius hasn't done anything yet, but I feel like I need to say this: Don't be mean to Vivi!

He seems to be focused on recruiting other cursed members into his "family", and his vision of the cursed and non-cursed joing hands together and work alongside each other (so he says).

He seems to be the big-bad (Gilbert tragic backstory vibes from this one?), I could be wrong, but that's what my gut tells me. I mean they all have one, but I feel like his is going to be twisted. A type that I am weak for.....so I am trying not to look at him at all.

Anyways....He's certainly angelic looking, and because he's wearing such an obviously painted smile, I would like to see him irked (not that I hate his character or anything), I just think it'd be funny as hell to see a blood vessel pop up on his forehead.

Nica: Right, Nica is gorgeous and he is the one I look forward to the most out of the three. His sprite has teeth when it's a full smile (congrats, my man), and a part from him making a comment that he's happy that Kate is present because he doesn't want to be stuck with a bunch of guys, he's very sharp.

He discerned by himself the real reason why she was at the castle. Also, he seems to love money and power....my other weaknesses are men who enjoy those things (stares at Jude & Silvio).....he doesn't seem to have a tyrant attitude, but I look forward to learning more about him.

Also, I have a theory I believe he may be involved with Roger's betrayal of Ellis' cursed predecessor. In Roger's main route preview:

Roger: Oh, me and…..this person……We aren’t friends. This person and I are strangers.

Mysterious Youth: ….Thank you. - “That’s enough”. (screen shakes)

Now, this could be Ring, but I think it's Nica also because of the relationship chart. I re-read the relationship chart. .

So, it'll be interesting to see how this plays out and how off I am. On to our darling......

Ring: Beloved, sweet, cold, blunt and Disney Princess Ring. He is the next villain I look forward to the most. I mean, a shared cursed ability with your twin? Moody emo vibes? Adorably quiet and strong? Please, I love him and want to cuddle him. Not to mention that skin-tight, black turtle neck....yummy. A part from this, Ring doesn't seem to like making speculations based on limited information, and I appreciate that about him. I think it's also notable that is very upfront with everyone at Crown, that if they try to harm Vogel, he won't sit quietly. Love a man of action. My question is: Why is he Darius' puppet, but not Nica? Ok, last but not least......

Sprite Designs: As usual, Nana-sensei has incorporated symbolism of their fairytale group into their clothing with lots of sharp edges. Personally, I love her art style over all, I think it's beautiful. Of note, Darius has a feather as his belt buckle and I quite like that. His brooch on his neck is the recognizable symbol of Vogel (seems like a swan's head with feathers to me), and the brooch on his floofy coat looks like the face of a swan staring at me. *Ahem* And I think his little neck window could be bigger....just saying.

Nica & Ring both have identical tassels, although they are different colors. One of their tassels likewise feature the symbol of Vogel, but the other looks like cross-hatch marks(?) Feathers(?). They apparently share the same curse, perhaps it represents their shared cursed since they are connected as twins??

They also share swan-faced holster clasps. The one on Nica holds his gun holster, and Ring's holds a book holster (?).....it looks like a book holster. Is it a book about flowers? I mean, it could be a snack pouch, but really it looks like a book holster to me. Just saying.....

Last, but not least, Nica's rings. My first thought: That's hot as hell. Next thought: Shit it's going to hurt like hell when he fingers Kate. This entire time I've been worried over William's and Jude's long ass fingernails cutting Kate up when they enter her, but this this amount of rings (assuming he doesn't remove them), that's going to scrape her so much inside. They're like a toture device.....wait.....maybe he's a sadist too? Oohh, yay if he is! Either way, he is a fan a jewelry.

Well, that's it. There's a ton more that I could write about, but I'm sleepy and I'm rambling.

[Master Lists]

[autumnshighlady]

Love You For Infinity

Elrond x adopted daughter reader

summary: you’ve been in a depressive episode for weeks, and your thoughts turn dark - luckily, elrond is there to help guide you 

warnings: depression, self harm thoughts, mention of suicide, VERY bad mental health

word count: 3.5k

requests: It’s taken me a year to finish this oneshot due to my mental health. It was a bit difficult to write for reasons I won’t get into, so i apologize for the long wait. If you can relate to the reader in this fic at all, please know that you are not alone, and you are loved <3

IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING WITH THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE AND ARE IN NEED OF HELP PLEASE REACH OUT TO A PROFESSIONAL OR A HOTLINE

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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You wandered through the gardens, feeling the warm sunlight soak into your skin. It was a beautiful day – the flowers were in full bloom, their scents filling the spring air, countless colours surrounding you as you made your way down the cobblestone path. The aged moss and lichen draped the marble statues and carvings along the gardens, an ancient beauty contrasted with the new growth. But you could not bring yourself to enjoy the scenery, nor stop to smell the flowers you loved so dearly. For all their vibrance, they seemed dull, muted, despite their bright colours. The glowing sunlight that so many other elves basked in felt too hot, too invasive. The sweet spring scents were choking you, stifling their air in your lungs as you tried to breathe.

            You had once loved wandering through the gardens of Imladris. Now you felt nothing but indifference, the guilt of losing such a joyous area of your life gnawing at your gut. You used to spend hours in these gardens, soaking in the scenery and revelling in the nature around you, content to simply sit on one of the benches or lay down in the grass and let the sounds and scents of the environment wash over your mind.

Now, you could barely stand to walk through the familiar path. Still, it was an improvement, considering it had taken all of your strength to get out of bed this morning. The task alone was daunting, yet you felt no sense of accomplishment. Most days had been like this lately – sleepless nights tossing and turning, yet no motivation to get out of bed when the sun rose, no drive to get yourself ready for the day. Instead you would simply lay there, sheltered in the confines of your room, closing off the rest of the world.

You hated every minute of it. You hated the fact that you felt so useless, the weight of simply getting up being too much to bear. You loathed that no matter how hard you tried, you could not bring yourself to join your friends for breakfast or pick up a good book and read. You hated feeling so weak, so empty – your brain screamed at you to stop wasting away, to get up and do something, anything. But you just could not.

Hours of pondering and crying into your pillow was not enough to figure out why you felt this way. Nothing bad had happened, no traumatic event to set off this episode of pain and depression that felt neverending. You were simply an elf from the Woodland Realm, who had been sent to and raised in Rivendell after the darkness began to creep into what was once Greenwood the Great. You worked as a scholar in the libraries of Imladris, safe within the House of Elrond. You had not seen some violent war, as some of your peers had, nor had you known anyone close to you who died or suffered tragically. Your life was pretty much perfect, your days amounting to reading, art, and simply wandering the grounds – none of which warranting the pain which now seemed to have spread through your entire chest, threatening to cave it in and shatter every piece of you.

You brushed my finger against a rose carelessly, letting your hand wander down from the soft petals to the thorny stalk. You felt a sting of pain, a thorn snagging your pointer finger. Instead of wiping away the blood, you just stood there and dragged your finger further down the thorn, creating a longer red line, content to let droplets of blood spill onto the marble pavement, deep red contrasting with the white floors. At least I could still feel something, you thought bitterly, relishing in the pain slightly. At least you had not gone completely numb.

“My Lady?”

You turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Lord Elrond was standing a few feet behind you, clad in his regal silver robes. He wore no crown, yet still possessed that regal authority that he was so renowned for. You felt your gut twist as you saw the concern flood over his face as you turned your body to face him.

You could see in his eyes he knew something was wrong, but your body gave you away entirely. You knew your eyes looked hollow, framed by dark circles that sucked the life out of your face. Your dress was slightly too big, evidence of the weight you had lost in the past few weeks as you isolated yourself in your room. A sick part of you delighted in it, always having been insecure of your size. Your hair which was usually well-kept and styled hung loosely around your face, knotted and frizzy in some parts as it cascaded down your back.

To cover your shame, you bowed your head in formality. “My Lord Elrond.” You managed to say, staring at the pavement as you inclined your head, eager to get away from his piercing gaze.

Elrond sighed, visibly attempting to soften his gaze. “My dear, must I remind you again that you may simply call me Elrond?”

“My apologies, my Lord.” You mumbled, straightening up and finally meeting his gaze. He did not correct you. Instead, his eyes travelled down to your hand and the blood that still dripped from it.

“You are hurt.” Elrond stated, his eyebrows furrowing. He stepped forward, a gentle hand reaching out as if to assess the wound, but you found yourself stepping back.

“I am alright,” you said quickly, moving your hand back to your side. The blood smeared your midnight-blue robes, but you did not care. “I simply snagged my finger on a thorn. A careless mistake, that’s all.”

Elrond’s eyebrow raised, and dread filled your stomach as you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, or at least he did not buy the too-casual excuse you pulled out of your ass. Your relationship with Elrond had always been relatively close – as close as one can have with an elven Lord of Imladris. When you had arrived in Rivendell as a child, Elrond had ensured you were well cared for. He became involved in your life – often bringing you gifts and trinkets, showing you around the place. Reading to you evolved into him teaching you how to read, sitting at the table with you and his children at dinner. Elrond had taken a special interest in you, always finding a way to make sure you had everything you needed beyond what a normal elven lord would do for their people. Sometimes you wondered if this was due to him losing Celebrían right before you arrived, as if his protective instincts had doubled with wife’s departure to the Undying Lands. He could not spare her from torment, but he could do his best to make sure you never met the same fate. Things changed a bit as you grew older – not wanting to impose on the family he already had before you, you found yourself growing a bit distant. You had no desire to be a burden to him, you were not his blood nor did he raise you, but he still played a paternal role in your life. Even as you began to make a life for yourself in Rivendell, that kindness and care Elrond had shown you as a child prevailed. You and him still had walks in the garden, he still ordered books from other kingdoms he thought may interest you. It was complicated, as he was not your father per say, but he was all you had, and he was important to you. But at the same time, he was still the Lord of the town you had the privilege of residing in and living under.

Guilt clawed away at your gut as you realised how even more distant you had become in these past few weeks. You could not recall the last time you had a conversation with Elrond or sat down for dinner with him. Surely, he noticed your absence but did not want to intrude, trusting you to make your own choices and open up if you were ready.

But you were too far gone for that approach, and deep down you knew that he knew it too.

“That is more than a simple thorn prick, little one,” Elrond said, the concern on his face seeping into his voice. “If you will not tell me what happened, at least let me take care of it for you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly shut up. You knew from the look in his eyes he was not going to let this go. You gulped down your nausea that was produced by your stomach, which churned knowing where this conversation was headed.

Arwen had made attempts to get you out of your room lately, none successfully executed. You cried even harder as she softly knocked at your door, her gentle voice ushering you to come out and join her for breakfast. You knew it broke her heart when you did not answer, unable to even crawl out of bed and unlock the door. She and her father knew something was wrong but had waited for you to come forward to them about it.

You guess they had waited long enough.

With your non-bloody hand, you accepted Elrond’s outstretched arm and began to walk with him towards his quarters. He did not hold you close to him as he usually did, as if he was afraid getting too close would scare you off. Instead, you walked in silence, which you appreciated. Other elves bowed their heads at him as you passed, but you kept your eyes to the ground.

Five minutes later, Elrond shut the door to his room, grabbing some herbs, water, and bandages to tend to your wound. The silence prevailed, and you sat down on the bed and let him take your hand. He began wiping the blood off, waiting a few seconds before saying softly, “I am glad to see you in the gardens again. It has been a few weeks since I last recall you spending time there.”

You sat quietly, torn. Part of you wanted to break down in ugly sobs and explain the struggles of the past few weeks, to open the floodgates and let go of every horrible and depressing thing you had felt and thought you had over the last while. But the other part of you screamed at yourself to suppress it, to make yourself go numb, a practice you now excelled at. Deep down you knew you wouldn’t have to make that choice – Elrond could see right through you. You knew that one look into those kind eyes and you would crumble, so you looked at the floor.

“Arwen has not seen you lately either,” Elrond continued gently, beginning to wrap up your hand in soft bandages. “Neither have I, in fact. Are you sick, my dear?”

“I…” Your throat went dry as you tried to speak. Say something, come on, say anything, you screamed at yourself. But no words came out.

After tying the final knot, Elrond looked up. “I can tell that you are unwell. I understand that you are grown now, but you are still my little one, and I wish you would know that you can always turn to me in time of need.”

At his comforting voice, you involuntarily looked up and met his gaze. Seeing those kind, concerned eyes that had watched over you all of these years opened that gate inside of you that you had tried desperately to keep sealed for so long. Like a dam bursting, tears spilled down your cheeks and your body shook with sobs. The world around you stopped turning, leaving you enveloped in a flood of your own pain. Your chest hurt, feeling as if it was filled with cement. You felt lightheaded, gasping for air between sobs.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t keep living like this. You were in so much pain you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t strong enough, it was going to kill you. Everything you felt raging inside of you was all-consuming, your own thoughts so loud and relentless, screaming at you all day and night to the point where you figured only death would release you from them. You were stuck in your own head, and the fight to swim to the surface was too exhausting to bear.

You felt movement, and the space on the bed beside you shifted as Elrond sat down. He wrapped one arm around you, cradling your head with the other and bringing you close to him. “It’s ok,” He murmured, stroking your hair and holding you as you sobbed uncontrollably. “It’s ok, little one. Let it all out.”

And so you did. You let yourself feel everything – the guilt of neglecting your job, the pain in seeing your friends give up their attempts to see you, the hateful thoughts about yourself that clouded your mind telling you that you were deserving of nothing good, all of it. You clung onto Elrond as you cried, feeling so overwhelmed that you may implode. “I can’t… I can’t, I can’t,” You managed to choke out between sobs. “It hurts so much, please make it stop, please make it stop, Ada.”

Ada.

You had never called Elrond ‘father’ before, always using his name or title. You did not want those around you to think you were getting special treatment, or to seem like you were expecting it. Before you could gather your wits and apologise, you felt him hold you tighter.

“It’s ok,” He repeated. “You are safe. You are strong. You can overcome this, but not if it is burning up inside of you. Let it all out, my dear.”

You nodded into his chest, your relentless chants of I can’t fading out as you slowly regained control over your breathing. The raging sea that was storming inside of you calmed down to a simple rocky surface, the weight of everything lifting off of your chest slightly. You stayed there for a few minutes, letting Elrond hold you close as you calmed down.

He had done so much for you, more than you could ever hope to repay him for. Yet here you were, crying like a child despite the perfect, safe life he had worked so hard to provide you with. What a fucking ungrateful brat, you thought to yourself bitterly, allowing yourself a cruel sob.

You managed to peel yourself away from Elrond, sitting upright. You put your head in your hands, wiping away your tears as you took a shaky breath. His hand remained over your shoulder, rubbing in comforting circles. “I am sorry.” He murmured.

You laughed half-heartedly. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be sorry, not you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Elrond said softly, but firmly. “I am sorry because I should have noticed this sooner. I should have noticed that you were hurting and found a way to help before you suffered this much. I failed you.”

You pried your head from your hands and turned to face him, and your heart nearly broke. The noble elven lord looked so sad, so guilt-ridden at the sight before him. An elf who had seen thousands of years of suffering, who had lived through the most brutal wars in Arda’s history, looked more defeated than ever as he looked at you. That guilt churned inside you again as you realised you had caused this. “You have far from failed me, Elrond.” You said quietly. “You have given me everything, more than I could ever ask for. I have no reason to be this sad or act this way.”

Elrond cocked his head, brushing the hair out of your face. “Is that what you truly think?” He asked gently. “That you need a reason to be sad?”

“Uh…yes?” You said, puzzled. “There is nothing in my life that is going wrong, or even remotely horrible. I have not been traumatised by battle or had to run from a sword. My village was never raided by orcs, I have never known hunger nor harsh winters. I truly have nothing to be sad about.”

Elrond paused for a minute, contemplating your words. “Just because you have not fought in war does not mean you have not suffered,” He said. “You are a young elf; you are allowed to feel whatever your heart feels. Circumstance does not spare you from pain or suffering. Things like this are not always the result of war or hardship. Sometimes we hurt for no reason, and no amount of explanation will reassure us nor will it change what we feel in our hearts.”

You sighed, cheeks damp. “It doesn’t make me feel any less ungrateful. I’ve never even been courted. Nobody has ever looked at me like that. All of my friends have been shown that type of affection, except me. I don’t understand what makes them worthy of it and not me.”

“You are young, little one. You have centuries ahead of you to find whatever love you may wish. You’ve only met a fraction of the people who will come to love you. Give yourself time, allow yourself to be comfortable in your own skin. I know it is easier said than done. If you cannot be at peace with yourself, no soul in this world can fill that void for you.”

You swallowed thickly. He was right – you felt like a stranger in your own body. Like the bones and flesh beneath your skin belonged to another. But sitting here with the elf who had been a pillar in your life for as long as you remembered, you began to feel more at ease within yourself. You sniffled, wiping your tears from your face with the back of your hand. Elrond reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at your cheeks gently.

“Someday,” he said softly. “Someone will love you exactly how you deserve to be loved. I did not meet my wife until I was 1759, and even then, I loved her in secret for many a century.”

 Arwen had told you stories of her mother. It always brought a deep sadness to her eyes as she remembered her mother’s grim departure to the Undying Lands. You knew the tale all too well, for talk of the tragedy Elrond had been faced with travelled all the way to the Woodland realm. When you had first arrived in Rivendell, the wound Celebrían’s departure had cut him deep. It took years of you getting to know him before his eyes went from hollow to bright. One day, you had snuck a book from the library on the elves of the First Age. It was then when you stumbled across Elrond’s story, a sad pain in your heart as you read about him and his brother’s early years during the wars and the period that followed.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a few moments. “About your wife. And everything that has happened to you.” You weren’t sure what had prompted you to say that, for you blurted out the words before you could stop and think. Elrond had never discussed his past with you besides the occasional story told in the grand scheme of sharing wisdom and life lessons.

But there was no defensiveness, for Elrond simply put a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you,” was all he said.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being your hitched breath as you calmed your breathing down. A slight weight had been lifted off your shoulders, lessening the crushing feeling in your chest. For weeks, you had feared Elrond finding out about your depressive episode and thinking less of you for it. Deep down, you knew that was illogical, but the thought had haunted you nonetheless.

“I want to help you, my dear,” Elrond said, grabbing your hands and looking at you with all the love and care a father would. “But only if you will have it. If you do not wish for my interference, I understand and will be there if you need me. But I urge you not to walk this path alone.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” you said quietly.

“I cannot change what you feel in your heart and soul. But there are little changes, perhaps, we can make to get you on the right path. If you would like, I shall have our breakfasts delivered to your room, and I may join you for breakfast and then we can go on a walk. It does not have to be long, nor strenuous. Simply something to get you up and moving at the beginning of the day. Once you climb that step, you may find things become much easier.”

Emotion clogged your throat. “You would do that for me?”

Elrond gave you a gentle smile. “For you, anything. I may not have fathered you, but you are my family. And I will move heaven and earth just to make you closer to the stars if that’s what would make you happy.”

[devourers-of-god]

Hey! I'm new here, so I'm sorry if something's wrong. I really like the way you write, it's just wonderful!

Can I ask you for a little fanfiction/headcount where Sally first saw the traces of selfharma on a femme reader? They can be both in a relationship or just friends... I would like something cozy, soothing and fluffy

Thank you in advance

Hi!! Welcome on Tumblr !! Thank you for your compliments, it’s super sweet T-T<3 I will make you a little oneshot with headcanons at the end <3 I think I will do friends but they crush on eachother!

And happy Valentine’s Day for those who celebrate !!

SAL X FEMME!READER THAT S3LFH@RMS

Warnings: self harm mentions, nothing graphic. Fluff !

Character: Sal Fisher

Oneshot - Worried

« Have you noticed y/n haven’t been looking like herself lately? » Todd said, looking up at Sal. Todd had noticed a shift in your behaviour. He’s not great at expressing concern but he thought that telling Sal would be a great idea, since Todd suspect that Sal’s crush is actually you.

« Mmm.. I mean I guess..? She doesn’t hang out with us a lot these days. » Sal replied, looking in the distance. In reality, Sal did notice something, you’ve been avoiding talking to the group. Almost isolating yourself. Which isn’t usual since you’re usually bubbly and full of life, always wanting to hang out and occupy yourself, but these past few weeks it was like you just became.. empty.

« You’re the only one that knows her better than anyone. I think you should say something Sal. We never know. You know there’s 53,2% of women suicide per ye-»

« Alright I’ll talk to her. » Sal cut off Todd, the blue haired boy didn’t want to stress himself out about such a tragic situation that might happen..? Sal slammed his locker door, waved at Todd and thanked him, and now he needed to find you.

In reality, Sal was crazy worried about you. He’s always had a crush on you, since you moved in Nockfell a few years ago. He loved the way you laugh, how you smile downwards, how your cheeks becomes a tinted pink when you’re flustered..and- « Watch where you’re going freak! » Travis said angrily. Sal was lost in thought and his luck made him bump into the one and only, Travis Phelps. Sal didn’t want trouble today, he was already in such stress that he didn’t need another anxiety inducing situation. The masked boy quickly escaped his bully and went on with his goal.

After a few minutes of intense research, he caught a glimpse of you making your way out of school. « She’s ditching class now? » Sal thought to himself, trying to walk as fast as he can, but with his small legs it was harder than other people. You were going behind the bleachers, notebook in hand. You’ve been writing everything that’s been going wrong in your life. You found comfort in writing, it felt great to know that the only one viewing the journal was you. It made you feel safe. The notebook was like therapy to you, writing edgy poems in code to hide your embarrassment. You would say to yourself that it was like your private little garden.

After finding your usual spot, you noticed Sal coming. Your face became red, and it was not because of the cold.

« ..Hi. » Sal said panting, he just noticed that you walk so fast. You quickly put your notebook underneath you. You were wearing ripped pants with a zip up jacket, that was too short for you.

« Hey Sal. » you replied, you sniffled quietly. What Sal doesn’t know is that you’ve been crying since the day started, you couldn’t go to class, you just couldn’t. It was too demanding. Too hard for you, you preferred isolating yourself until the end of the day. Sals visit was unexpected.

« Have you been… crying y/n? It’s okay if you were and if you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand-» Sal stopped quickly after noticing he was rambling and talking fast.

You sighed. Wiping your nose with your hand, making your sleeve fall off your arm.

A heavy silence was heard.

Your scars were showing. You noticed they were in plain sight after you noticed Sals eye widening. « Oh fuck off » you thought to yourself. Your heart rate fastened as you rolled your sleeve down.

« Say something say something say something say-» Sals thoughts were racing, just like your heartbeat. He had to say something. He had to. Why couldn’t he speak up? He went through the same thing you’re going through. Sals supposed to know what to say right ? Only seconds had passed but it felt like long, long minutes before Sal eventually took his courage and spoke up.

« … I’ve been worried about you. And this confirms my concerns. Y/n.. I’m sorry you’ve been going through this… God I’m sorry y/n I wish I could’ve there to help you. You mean so much to me I- I just can’t watch someone so important to me in a state like this » Wow, it was maybe one of the only times that Sal would say something so heartfelt. Sal noticed your hands were shaking and your eyes slowly watering. His first instinct was to hold your hand. Your face got flustered as he did that.

« Sal- I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve communicated this with you earlier.. things has been bad but nothing is your fault. » You said as Sal hugged you tight, he didn’t want to let you go. As in the hug in just in general.

« I really like you y/n, let me help you.. please.. »

Annnddd that’s it HAHAHA SORRY😭 this might not be as good because I have an important exam in like 30 minutes and I’m stressing the fuck out. Anyways, here’s some hcs to compensate :P

HEADCANONS

- when Sal first noticed, he made sure you felt safe venting to him.

- carries a first aid kit.. just in case something happens.

-he make sure to clean your wounds when you relapse, he doesn’t want you to get an infection.

- he makes sure to always be there for you, you guys hang out more than usual after this.

- caresses your scars with his fingertips, humming, to help you fall asleep.

- makes sure to hide anything that you use to hurt yourself without you knowing.

- keeps the secret to himself.

- is way more affectionate than before, he eventually got way better with words of affirmation so he can help you even more.

Okep! Thank you for reading and I really hope you guys enjoyed ;( I love you all !!!

REQUESTS: ALWAYS OPEN!!!

DMS: OPEN:3

[maverick-wingman]

Broken Skies (Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader) Chapter 1

Note: I apologize for the long long wait. I was really lacking motivation and just on a long writer's block for the past few months. But here is Chapter 1 for Broken Skies. The Sneak Peak is linked below for those that have not read it yet. And also thank you @justabigassnerd and @callsign-dexter for motivating me to write more! ❤️

This is a redo of my Bradley Bradshaw Part 1. This is more of a prequel rather than a sneak peek this time. Mel - “one who is fearless and daring.” Canon characters are out of character. Iceman will be healthy in this fic. 

Warnings: Nothing big, maybe angst, other than a brief mention of death, and military inaccuracies. NOT grammar/spelling checked. Some switching between first names and callsigns.

Masterlist | Sneak Peek | Chapter 1

In the room with Cyclone and Warlock, Maverick looked at the screen and saw 2 very familiar faces. Cyclone looked at Maverick and asked, “Is there a problem, Captain?” Maverick looks at him, “You know there is sir.” Cyclone signed and zoomed in on your picture, “Lieutenant Mitchell, callsign Mel, one of the best pilots I have seen in years. She was top of her class. Two confirmed air-to-air kills. You must be very proud. Captain.” Maverick smiles, “I am, sir. I’m proud of her every day.”  

Maverick was indeed proud. Starting from the second you were born, he knew you would be a mini him the second he got called for a parent-teacher meeting for you not following directions and being a bit rebellious. There was also the first time he took you on your first little joyride, instead of being scared like  most people that are thousands of feet up in the air going hundreds of miles per hour, you were so excited. You had the time of your life. You especially loved when he did aerobatics. You kept on asking him to do another one, he often wondered how you never got dizzy or felt nauseous. As you grew older, you went on to be just like him.  If not, maybe even a little better. Now here you are, getting called back to Top Gun to be a possible candidate for a special detachment. This isn’t like the past missions you’ve been on. This is life or death. He knows there is a chance someone isn’t coming back. 

Cyclone then zoomed in on another person. Rooster. “Bradley Bradshaw aka Rooster. I understand you flew with his old man. What was his call-sign again?” “Goose, sir” “Tragic what happened.” Warlock cuts in defending Maverick. All Maverick could do was nod. Memories of what happened replaying in his mind.

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

“Dad?” You saw your dad sitting by the bar alone. You thought he’s in the desert working on the Death Star. Why is he here?  He turned around and you smiled excitedly going over and hugging him as tight as possible. You felt him hug back just as tight. “Hey sweetheart.” You always loved the daddy-daughter hugs. It made you feel safe and relaxed. You haven’t seen him in person in almost a year. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re supposed to be somewhere in the desert.” You saw the look he gave and you couldn’t help but grin. “You pissed off another admiral, didn’t you?” He chuckled at your response. “You could say that.” You sat next to him. “So… what are you doing here at North Island? Did Uncle Ice tell you I was here?”  You asked him. 

“Well uh…. in a manner of speaking.” You noticed the look your dad had. There was worry in his eyes. You hadn’t seen that look in a long time. “You’re here for the detachment… aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.” He gave you a look. You knew the answer. “How bad is it going to be?” You looked to your dad. “I can’t say too much yet, but … this is something no one’s ever seen.” All you could do was nod. Before you can react you felt him rub your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re the best fighter pilot I know.” You let out a little chuckle, “don’t let Uncle Ice hear you say that.” You heard him let out some chuckles.

You talked with your dad for a little longer to catch up on everything. He told you that the Kazansky’s invited you both over for dinner tomorrow night. You were excited, as you have seen your Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah in a while. You heard your name being called, looking over you saw Jake and Javy calling you over. You heard your dad’s voice, “go on, go catch up with them.” You looked over to him. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. We have plenty of time to catch up more.” You smiled and hugged him one last time before going over. 

“What’s Pops doing here?” Jake asked after pulling you into a hug. You didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “He’s here visiting old friends.” You responded as Javy pulled you in for a side hug. 

As you talked, you caught up with Phoenix, you met some new members: Bob, who was so sweet, Payback and Fanboy who both were really nice, although you felt a little competitiveness between them and Jake and Javy. Jake would not stop teasing Bob, you had to nudge him a few times hoping he’d stop messing with the guy. 

Maverick watched as his little girl bonded with her teammates. Despite Jake's reputation he trusted him that he wouldn’t leave his daughter behind, but he is unsure if he would do the same for the rest of the team.

You looked over and saw a familiar face entering the Hard Deck. Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley walked over to the group. “Bradshaw.” “Hangman… you look good” “Well, I am good Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I’m too good to be true.” Hangman responds, smirking. Bradley then looked over to you. “Mel.” “Rooster.” “Why am I not surprised you’re here?” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. You knew what he was thinking, he still believed the reason  you made it this far is because of your dad and uncle. “Well who else did you expect?”  

Before Bradley could say another word, Jake cuts in, “you’re just jealous Bradshaw, admit it, you will never fly like Mel here. She takes risks unlike a certain someone. She’ll make a great mission leader, but anyone that follows you will just run out of fuel. Waiting for the right moment that never comes.” You felt Jake’s arm snake around your shoulders. 

Jake is your best friend, you could say. Sure, during training he would leave his wingman and fly off, but during the missions he was never like that. At least not to you. He saved your  life; that’s how he got his first confirmed air to air kill. If it wasn’t for him, you would not be standing here right now.

Bradley suddenly felt a ping of jealousy growing inside him. Since when were you and Hangman so close? But Bradley being Bradlet, he chose to ignore it. “And anyone that follows you will just end up in a grave.” That ticked you off a little. You wished Jake would let you tell everyone what really happened that day. You don’t get why Jake wants to keep it a secret, he loves to show off. Only a few people know the exact details. 

“They’re on me! I can’t shake them!” you said with a panicking voice. With an enemy aircraft chasing after you at full speed. Trying different maneuvers, you dodged as many bullets that you could. That’s when you heard a beeping sound; the enemy got a lock on you. Just as  you started accepting your fate, there was an explosion sound. You looked over and saw the enemy fighter jet blowing up into pieces. “You owe me a drink, Mel.” Y/N looked over and saw Hangman giving her a grin. He just saved your life, for once not living up to his callsign.

After that, it was Hangman and Mel. Jake and Y/N. You became best friends and each other’s wingperson.

Other than Rear Admiral Jackson, Javy, Maverick and Iceman, no one knew it was Jake that saved you. Jake wanted to keep it a secret. With the help from Iceman, no one knew what really happened. Because the mission only needed 2 pilots, it made it easier to hide the truth.

Maverick was watching the whole scene play out in front of him, feeling the guilt bubble inside him knowing he was the reason his daughter and Bradley are no longer friends. He remembers how close they were as kids, how they never left each other’s side. He hopes this mission will bring them together again.

The night went on, he ended up being broke after not realizing the rules at Penny’s bar. Jake and the others had the joy of “throwing” him out of the bar. You knew it was all fun and games. You knew your dad took a liking to him after he saved your life that day. Even you let out a little laugh watching it all play out. 

You heard a familiar tune starting to play in the background, you looked over to the piano and saw Bradley sitting there. The tune that your uncle Goose, Bradley’s dad always plays. You remembered how you and Bradley would sit on the piano with your dad, Uncle Goose and Aunt Carole gathered around singing “Great Balls of Fire” together. Your eyes wandered around and noticed your dad outside staring towards where Bradley is. You knew he misses them too. 

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

You sat next to Jake and Javy waiting for the debrief to start. You had this feeling that something was going to happen today and it was not the good kind of feeling. You know Bradley will not be happy knowing who the instructor for the detachment is going to be. You also know he will be mad that you didn’t warn him. But he has no right to feel that way. After all, you two were basically on no speaking terms. Cyclone’s voice disrupted your thoughts. “Good morning aviators.” 

At morning debriefing, Cyclone and Warlock went over the details of this mission. Just from hearing the details about what is going to happen, you knew this was going to be a detachment like no other. As he introduced who the instructor was going to be, you knew exactly who they were talking about, even though you already found out last night. You only know one person that fits the description so perfectly. 

You couldn’t help but look over to Bradley, wondering how he is going to react when he sees your dad. You can see him tense up as he sees your dad walk in. This is going to be a very long day. Bradley made eye contact with you and he was not happy, just as you had predicted minutes ago.  After the debrief, you and everyone else waited to be selected to go up in the air. First ones up were you, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster. 

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

As you walked towards your fighter jet when you heard your name being called. “Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be the instructor?” You knew he was going to ask this. “How am I supposed to tell you if all we ever do is argue when we talk?” “Yea, well you’re the one that always starts it” “Are you serious Bradley? Look at us. Besides, would it really make a difference if I did?” “Yea, it actually would have.” 

As the training session went on, no one has been able to get a lock on Maverick. not even you. You were close but he is always steps ahead. And thanks to the little bet, everyone was punished with 200 pushups.

Now it is time for Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and Roosters turn. You listened to the radio as Jake asked Bradley some personal questions. There was one secret you never told Jake, it was the exact details about you, your dad, and Bradley. All he knows is you and Bradley had an argument, he left and that was that. 

You heard your dad’s voice. Encouraging Bradley to take a little risk instead of playing it safe. Jake’s voice came in warning them about getting below the hard deck level amd telling Rooster to take the shot. Soon through the radio, you head the alerts going off telling them to pull up. You are holding your breath at this point. No matter how upset you were at Bradley, you didn’t want to lose him and your dad.  A few seconds later, you heard your dad’s voice. He got a lock on Bradley. What on earth were they thinking?

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

You stormed up to Bradley angry. “What was that Bradshaw?! Are you trying to get kicked out?” “Oh like you care, you probably would love to see me off this mission.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It’s like he never changed. “I worked hard to get here and you know it!” “Well not everyone is lucky enough to have their dad and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet as their teacher!” He snapped back. You froze, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. Not wanting to continue this anymore, you shook your head and walked away in silence. You knew if you stayed longer, you would end up saying something you’d regret, and possibly escalating the argument.

“Why are you such close friends with Hangman? You know what type of person he is!” You stopped in your tracks. Why did he change the conversation to this? Was he jealous? You turned around facing him once again, letting out your anger. “You’re right, I know what type of person he is. You don’t! You let your judgments get clouded too easily, you’ll just assume the worst in people!” You saw the look Bradley had on his face, hearing him let out a scoff, “all he ever did was leave his wingman behind! Everyone knows that! Why won’t you believe me?!” 

You don’t know what came over yourself. You’ve kept it in for years. Coming up with reasons why Bradley cut off contact with you, why he barely said anything to you during your time at Top Gun, why he treated you like you were nothing. He didn’t even believe you told him that you had nothing to do with his application being pulled. And now all of a sudden he cares about who you’re friends with. You knew what Hangman was like to others. That’s just a character he built up; he doesn’t want to seem weak or soft, easy to push around. Sure he messes around during training, but when it comes to the real thing, he takes things seriously. 

“You want to know why? Fine. He never left me hanging! He didn’t cut off contact with me for something I didn’t do!  He trusted me! He never assumed I got in just because of my last name! He didn’t hurt me the way you did!”

You were mad at your dad too, especially at first. But after a lot of begging, he finally told you why he pulled Bradley’s application; you understood, it was an extremely difficult decision. Adding on to it, it was his best friend’s dying wish.

You quickly walked away going to the locker rooms. You heard Bradley call out your name, but you chose to ignore it. Today did not turn out the way you had expected. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since the first time you saw Bradley in years and he is still the same.

Taglist: @alluringshawn @anurst @urmomssidehoesposts @sarahjoestewy-blog @adoringsebstan @70spadfoot @khaylin27

@littlebadariell @ems-alexandra

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone Danny: Dan interlude 7.5

i'm writing this because im struggling to come up with the next part to the clone danny au. however I have had many thoughts about our resident evil man. So if anyone remembers part two of this au, I mentioned that I wanted to make Dan's circumstances a little different than canon, considering Danny's circumstances were different. I'm not sure where I got the idea that Dan wouldn't be inclined to destroy the world after his creation, but i'm sticking with it because I love to explore new things in aus. So 👏 DAN and i swear i might end up calling him a different name because ong i cant stand the name Dan

so. Dan. Dante? I like Dante. but i'll call him Dan for the time being. So: clone danny is not a halfa, right? not really at least. he has a core and he has the ghost sense but nothing else. big difference in canon already since there's no 'ghost half' for vlad to rip out like in canon.

Danny's family is DEAD. disintegrated [exaggeration] in a nasty burger explosion. so he's. bruce wayne levels of depressed. real bruce wayne-core

Vlad, instead of offering to tear out his ghost half, instead offers to try and find a way for Danny to be safely reunited with his family in the afterlife

(he's lying. he's gonna try and make danny a halfa)

Ofc, Danny with his ghost-core obsession being family-based, agrees. he's desperate and depressed. ripe for the picking

Vlad gets everything set up. But turning a human into a halfa is risky risky business, a 1-and-100 chance to happen successfully

so. Danny dies in the experiment. painfully. and he comes back immediately as a ghost. essentially murdered

and ye gods is he PISSED. Vlad lied to him. Vlad lied to him. Danny is a family-obsessed ghost and Vlad lied to him about his family and then he killed him

Vlad is a dead man

Danny doesn't just kill Vlad, he destroys him. He never merges with his Vlad's ghost half because he doesn't want power he wants him fucking dead.

SO dead Vlad is.

now where does this leave our precious, freshly ghosted, full-of-rage Daniel Fenton?

not destroying the world thats for certain. and, well. that's not to say that Danny couldn't go on a blind, grief-stricken rage that results in him becoming the walking apocalypse. he could totally still do that

do I want to do that? well, i don't hate the idea however I personally enjoy the idea that I came up with in the alternative

with Dan no longer a one-ghost-apocalypse, how does he become Danny's TUE? My solution: time travel. Danny doesn't go to the future to go see him, Dan comes back to the past to go see Danny.

i am not partial to the idea that ghosts age over time. So for the last ten years Dan has remained as a dead 14 year old kid the entire time. I like to think its more tragic that way.

At some point during those ten years, Dan figures out that time travel is real. And he becomes obsessed with figuring out how to do it so that he can go back in time and take his past self's life and get his family back

Yeah. a real Miguel O'Hara right here folks

Dan succeeds in his time travel, and suddenly the Phantom's nightly patrol is being interrupted by a ghost that is... unsettlingly similar to him.

Dan knows himself better than anyone. When he finds out time travel is real, he spends his time researching it and growing stronger. He needs to be as unpredictable as possible. He knows that his past self will be in his prime as the Phantom and will be used to adapting to unpredictable and seemingly invincible enemies. He needs to be able to beat that

So. Dan and Danny fight the first(1) time

Danny gets his ass handed to him

Dan reveals himself and goes on a villain monologue. Dan's ghost form is different than in canon, since its a close replica to Danny's Phantom gear. The only difference is that Dan's white CJ Mask has black tear streaks down from the eyes that are blotchy and smudged. As if he'd been crying ink. There are a few other subtle differences too, like Dan has a few trinkets that are motifs to his family, but i can't think of what without cluttering up his outfit

Dan can't kill Danny, unfortunately. As its his past self. Killing him would result in Dan ceasing to exist. However he can imprison him or overshadow him. Dan overshadows him, and Danny goes under.

This is chalking up to be more traumatizing for Danny than I thought

Danny is only partially conscious during the overshadowing. It's like one of those weird vertigo dreams. something is wrong but he doesn't know what

And it's actually his friends that help realize that something is wrong. Dan may be Danny, but its been ten years since he last saw his friends. Something has to give. Whether it be the subtle strangeness in his behavior, a dip in his humor and morality, or the way he speaks like he's reminiscing.

This idea is diverging more from canon than i thought, but Danny does eventually kick out Dan and defeat him. But its right before the nasty burger explosion. Danny can't make it in time, but Dan does. A very sudden save that Danny wasn't expecting and is confused about

Danny eventually meets up with Dan later that night to interrogate him, and brings Sam and Tucker with. They find out his whole tragic backstory

And the few days Dan has had with Sam and Tucker and back with his family have kinda reminded him what he was like before his death and before rage and grief took over his afterlife

He's kinda mellowed out slightly -- or at least snapped out of his obsession mostly.

they talk. Dan talks about what happened in his timeline. probably breaks down and cries, allowing him to properly process the grief he's been avoiding for the last decade

there's no forgiveness yet. Dan overshadowed Danny (terrifying him in the process and realizing that despite everything, there are still things that ghosts can do that Danny's not prepared for. he needs to prepare), tried to take over his life, and was all around violent and cruel to him out of jealousy and desperation. However, there is a chance of redemption

Dan doesnt want to go back to his time. his family isn't there. he's alone. he doesnt want to be alone. he's fourteen years old and dead

but... but he knows he doesn't belong here. his time with the fentons has passed, and he has an afterlife to look into. he can't... cling to the past. and its a voice that sounds like jazz saying this in his head

"you can visit" danny says after a moment, seeing the fear on dan's face. he's a bleeding heart through and through, even if he resents Dan just a little bit for what he did "you know how to time travel, right? I don't think there's any harm coming to visit"

"or," tucker says, "we can visit you! you can show us your time! i want to see what technology is like in ten years"

Dan... looks hopeful. and they mean it too. yes. visiting... that makes him feel better. "if Vlad gives you trouble don't be afraid to tell me" he offers in turn, and smiles wide and toothily. much too wide for a human. "i'll be happy to handle him again"

Danny makes a mental note to never let the two meet. "i will"

and Dan disappears

----------

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Masterpost

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank @sara0055 @blusunkhild @letmesayfuxk (?) @latheevening226 @tkiesai @rosedasy @meira-3919 @igotafewbadideas @princessbelix @cyber-geist

[divine-valley]

Safe at Last

The person whose name is written in this note shall die.

Fox reads the sentence a few times over. When he encountered the note it had landed on his head while on patrol. Someone must have thrown it out a window instead of disposing it properly. He had intended on dumping it in the closet garbage bin when the cover had caught his attention.

Death Note.

Written in a strange script, it wasn’t a novel just a simple blank notebook. It’d be a waste to dispose of something he could use so he retuned to base where he could inspect it further. That was when he found the rules written on the front page.

This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

Oh how thoughtful to think of those who share a name. He can’t help but roll his eyes and continue to read.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

That fast huh? Quick and efficient.

Was this a joke of some kind? A prank some kids made and were caught with?

If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

Fox shook his head and reached for a pen and closed his eyes.

The Chancellor’s warm smiling face fills his head. His voice calling out to him. It makes him sick.

Sheev Palpatine

If anyone’s name belonged in a book of death it would be his. Leaning back he watched the digital clock in the far corner of his office. The second go by and then a minute.

Nothing.

Well, he wasn’t sure what he expected. Tossing the pen aside he grabbed the book to put it away when his comm started to go off. He isn’t able to get a word in when Thire’s voice breaks the silence.

“Fox, the chancellor’s just collapsed in his office.“

___

The Chancellor is dead.

Heart attack. Thats the report that comes back. No foul play is suspected. He was an older man after all, he worked so very hard. Never a moment’s rest, those are the words whispered.

No poison nor drug is found in his system. Just an elderly man who passed from a heart attack.

The people weep, Coruscant enters a period of mourning and the guard is now busy preparing security for the funeral.

Fox is unable to focus on anything. He is locked in his office with the note in his hands simply staring down at it.

He killed him.

He killed the chancellor.

Him with just the stroke of his pen he ended that monster’s miserable life.

Or was it coincidence?

Could it be the old bastard’s heart had actually given out? But the timing it was too perfect.

Should…should he try again? Another name?

___

“Did you hear?”

“Yes, how awful…”

“Apparently he just slipped and fell…”

“In his shower of all places!”

Senator Gorling’s tragic and accidental death. A simple slip in the shower, life is so fragile and delicate.

What a shame.

Senator Halor Gorling dies getting out of the shower. He slips on the wet floor and snaps his neck in the process.

Exactly as written.

Fox is thankful for his helmet to hide the grin on his face a sick kind of smile that would have anyone question his sanity.

Senator Gorling have sent good honest men to their deaths for nothing. For a vendetta against clones. For a clone daring to fall in love with his precious natborn daughter.

An eye for an eye as they say.

He doesn’t say much. Doesn’t contribute to the gossip among his own ranks. It’s such a small death as compared to the chancellor’s.

It was all he needed to truly confirm that the Death Note worked. That in his hands is an untraceable weapon of Mass Destruction. Something no man should possess yet here it was in his hands.

His capable hands…

With this…he could protect the Guard and not just them but all clones.

He can keep them all safe at last.

___

Been watching a lot of Death Note again so of course I wondered...what would happen if Fox had stumbled across it himself?

[magiccath]

Endings

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor hates endings. Especially when it comes to you

CW: Major character death

A/N: sorry not sorry again for this one

The Doctor hated endings. Books, movies, life. Everything had to end. It could be bittersweet, happy, or even ambivalent. Eventually, everything found its end. 

If the Doctor controlled the story, nothing would ever end. Not happily, and certainly not tragically. 

He ripped the last page out of books, casting the singular piece of paper away without a second thought. He turned the TV off before the last scene of a movie, not even bothering with the credits. The few times you went to see the original Shakespeare with him, he left before the last act. He never wanted to say goodbye to anyone, especially you. 

It took you a while to figure this out. You’d watched him lose Rose, and Donna too; you’d helped him pick up the pieces afterward. Each of those events heart-shattering in its own way. 

But even after things ended, he continued on like they hadn’t. He didn’t put Rose’s things away, you did. He left Donna’s tea in the TARDIS kitchen. 

You feared if your story ended, for whatever reason, you would hang around him forever. A cruel reminder of a painful past. 

But you knew it would happen. Maybe he’d kick you out of the TARDIS.  Maybe you’d forget like Donna, or get lost like Rose. Or maybe you’d die like River. 

You certainly didn’t think it would happen like this. You didn’t want it to happen like this. 

You had fought that morning. You couldn’t even really remember why, it was that silly. You just remembered being furious with the Doctor. Maybe he had been reckless, that was usually the reason you got mad at the Time Lord. 

You’d agreed to table the fight and deal with it later. You had just assumed there would be a later, there had always been one before.

When it finally happened, it happened in slow motion, almost as if time stopped for you. It wasn’t quick or easy. It was slow and painful, the realization that this was it. The end for you. 

Your eyes darted between the Dalek that had shot you and the Doctor, your eyes dripping with apologies. The blow was quick, but the pain wasn’t. It coursed through your body, a gut-wrenching torment. You gritted your teeth through it, trying your best to power your way through. 

As much pain as you were in, the Doctor was in more. You could see it in his eyes. They were always more expressive than the rest of him. He could think he had the best poker face in the world, but his eyes would always give him away. 

The Doctor was by your side in an instant, cradling your body against his. His fingers desperately clutched your clothes, clawing to keep you close to him. He couldn’t lose you. Not now, not like this. 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, tears already staining his face. He pushed a stray hair off of your forehead, his touch lingering on your face. You were always so beautiful, even in death. He cursed himself for not telling you more often. 

“It’s ok,” you choked out. You smiled sadly, the action excruciating. Even as the pain overtook you there was one thing on your mind - making sure he was ok. The Doctor had lost so much, you didn’t want to be another thing to haunt him at night. 

He shook his head and held you tighter, clearly not ready to let you go. You used the rest of your strength to lift your hand to his face for the last time, tracing the lines of his jaw. 

“I love you,” you uttered, hardly a whisper. The Doctor’s tears fell from his face and onto your shirt, small droplets of pain decorating the fabric. 

If he could, he would have torn the universe apart from you. But he couldn't. All he could do was sit and watch you die. What good was he if he couldn’t take care of you? 

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, guilt clouding his eyes. He had promised to keep you safe. To keep you alive. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, smiling sadly. It truly wasn’t his fault, he had to know that.

You stared upwards at his painstaking face as the rest of your life drained from your body, leaving you limp. One second you were there, the next you were gone. It was as simple as that. 

The Doctor broke, pained sobs forcing their way from his mouth as he clutched your lifeless body. It wasn’t pretty, pain rarely was. Tears and all the nasty things that came with it streamed down his face. He felt as if his hearts had been ripped out of his chest. He had felt pain before, too many times to count, but it never felt like this. 

He didn’t care that there was still a war raging on around him. He didn’t care that he could be shot by a Dalek at any minute. All he could focus on was you. He’d loved you, more than he had ever loved anything in his long life. He had sworn to look after you, to protect you. In the end, he couldn’t do either of those things. Instead, he was left desperately clutching your body.