#one way is the ever growing hole in my soul from these two still not seeing each other after how many gd chapters

[princessbellecerise]

Beacon of Hope

Summary ✩ After the war, Jacaerys finally finds his purpose for living again

Warnings ✩ Slight spoilers for Fire and Blood

Notes ✩ Hosue of the Dragon has been so depressing lately and I needed a little something to lift my spirits. I hope you guys enjoy!

Some days he just couldn’t sleep.

It had nothing to do with his bed, as he had slept in multiple uncomfortable places during the war. But it was more so that Jacaerys was still in disbelief that this was his life now.

A year ago, the realm was at war and he was on the brink of death. After getting shot at during the Battle of the Gullet, Jacaerys suffered a major injuries that many didn’t believe he would survive. He spent his days floating in and out of consciousness, one foot in the grave until miraculously, the fever broke, Jacaerys rose again.

When he did, he learned that he was no longer a Prince. The war had ended with the death of his mother and the poisoning of the usurper, Aegon. And when he opened his eyes, he was a King.

Broken by the losses he took at war, yes. But slowly over the years, life turned.

Along with the many allies that still fought for him and his mother, Jace begin to rebuild the kingdom until it was whole again. What was once destroyed by dragon fire and blood was rebuilt, and in a few years time, King Jacaerys was able to restore what his family had destroyed.

It made the nights easier, knowing that the threat of war was gone and the realm was finally at peace, but even though his two remaining brothers were alive and the realm had settled, Jace still felt as if something was missing.

The holes that the death of his mother, his brothers, and his stepfather left never seemed to go away. And their death haunted him. For a while, the King believed that even though the realm was whole again, he never would be. The war had taken so many things—precious things—from him, that he no longer thought that hope and love was possible.

Then he met you.

When you came into his life, Jacaerys’ world had been upside down. He was alone with only his infant brothers to share his pain with, and he constantly felt like he was submerged in darkness.

But you…you were his light.

Not like dragon fire, which destroyed everything in its path, but rather the kind of light that inspired hope and growth.

With you, he learned what it meant to love again. What it meant to trust, and to have someone by his side that loved him unconditionally.

You were his greatest hope, and though many credited the maesters for keeping his broken body together, it was you that made his soul whole again. You were his missing piece, his beacon of hope, and he would never have it any other way.

So sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, and the memories that he tried so hard to repress during the day came hunting for him at night, Jacaerys would stop and he would look upon your sleeping face and realize that everything was okay again.

Though the losses he took would never fully heal, he felt the pain ease knowing that he had you, little Aegon, little Viserys and little Luke to keep him striving towards the future.

Along with the babe that was currently in your belly, your growing family gave Jacaerys purpose. For the first time since waking up, the darkness that shrouded him faded, and it was instead replaced by hope.

Hope a better life. Hope for a better future.

A future he swore that no one would ever take from him again.

[the-palelady]

i have a lot cooking right now, but i just had a loss in the family, therefore this is definitely self-indulgent! i apologize ♡

bloodborne is my favorite game of all time, so hunter!ghost lives in my head rent free 24/7

cw ; maid!reader, hunter!ghost, afab!reader, slow burn?, pining, reader is super timid because she has never seen the light of day lol, these two need to get laid tbh. this is an au, i know that isn't some people's thing so here is your warning!

Boots trudged through the entrance of the Queen’s chambers and ripped you from your thoughts. It had been lifetimes since someone had stepped foot inside Cainhurst Castle and seeing a Hunter of all things walk into the palace sent you flying behind one of the nearby pillars where you held your dusty rag to your chest. He was large, clearly well-toned under the hunter’s garb that he adorned. His face was obstructed by the cloth mask that covered his mouth, and the way his hat was tipped forward shielded his eyes from the scrutiny of others. If he were to stand even the slightest bit close to you, you knew he would likely tower over your cowering form. 

You had been a maid for Annalise, Queen of the Vilebloods, for as long as you could remember, long enough to have witnessed the fall of the Vilebloods, you and your Queen the only ones left in the castle. No one ever came and went, the two of you locked away and hidden from the outside world due to the one known as Martyr Logarius. Queen Annalise kept you privy to the details, seeing you as much more innocent than herself.

“I do not wish to defile thy pure soul,” she would always say, speaking to you in a tone so soft you could almost not hear her words.

You watched as the Hunter ascended towards the Queen, her voice booming throughout her chambers as they drew closer, introducing herself as the ruler of the now almost fully wiped out Vilebloods. From your hiding place, you could see the Hunter bow towards her majesty, their large form taking up your vision, and with that the Queen’s words became hushed, only meant for the ears of the Hunter she spoke to. You let out a soft sigh, and with your curiosity still eating away at the corners of your mind, you turned to continue dusting the candelabra that adorned the hidden chambers.

As always, you quickly became lost in your work, not noticing the slow steps that began to grow louder as they drew closer to you. The flash of metal reflecting the subtle candlelight is what ripped you from your focus. With your hand still raised, holding a rag to one of the candelabras, your eyes locked with another’s. They were as dark as the endless night that cloaked Cainhurst Castle, and as fearsome as they were weary. A thin strand of blonde hair poked out from underneath, bouncing against the skin of his forehead when he came to a stop.

He blinked at you with what seemed like a blank expression, your own clearly full of surprise and apprehension. The presence of another was unfamiliar to you, your only sense of company being Queen Annalise. Your worlds were also galaxies apart: you, a simple maid, and he, a hunter of beasts.

And yet you couldn’t have been more drawn to him than you were right now. He bore holes into your skin with his sharp gaze, skin aflame under the layers of your garments, and as he finally stepped away, you released the breath you were unaware you had been holding, the flames that consumed you now dying out.

But this wasn’t the last you had seen of this moon-scented Hunter.

He was now a constant in your life, seemingly appearing from the shadows from time to time, always approaching from behind, startling you out of your work. For a time, you didn’t think much of it, his towering figure slipping right past, making you jump almost right out of your shoes each time. But as you turned to investigate the culprit of your fright, you could see a quick glint of mischievousness in his eyes. It was gone faster than it appeared, but you knew what you had seen.

It wasn’t until a few moons later did your Queen request your presence in her chambers. The request was hardly foreign to you, but you thought it strange, even more so when the Hunter’s hat peaked out from the apex of the stairs leading to Her Majesty’s throne.

On instinct, you curtsied to the Queen as she kindly spoke out her reason for summoning you, “Our dear Hunter shall be joining us in our plight, wouldst thou show him to his chambers?”

When your gaze rose from the elegant rug beneath your feet, you could once again feel the piercing stare of the Hunter, his eyes following the graceful motions of your body as you bowed your head to Annalise, “Of course, your Majesty.”

And the two of you descended the stairs in silence, walking ahead of him to lead the way to the guest's chambers. The hairs on the back of your neck stood tall, goosebumps lined the length of your arms and legs, and your ordinarily refined sense of decorum began to falter at how close he stood behind you. His steps were as silent as they always were, the only sound echoing throughout the hall being the small heels that you wore, clicking rhythmically against the stone floor.

Decades seemed to pass before you arrived at the chambers. With a turn, your gaze diverted towards the floor, avoiding his at all costs. You could already feel those peculiar orbs on you, a raven following the path of its prey.

The collar of your dress was suddenly choking you, the fabric and ruffles rubbing your skin in a way that made you want to claw at it, tear it away. The seconds ticked on for far too long, the silence between you and the Hunter becoming unbearable. So with a slight bow of your head, you took your leave.

“Ghost.”

You were hesitant in taking another step, your bodies side by side, and yours glued in place. The sound of such a gruff voice threw you off guard. All you could do was blink, looking reluctantly around the room before letting out a soft, “What?”

You didn’t dare look in his direction, afraid that perhaps he would disappear again if you made the wrong move.

“My name. And yours?” Admittedly, hearing the curiosity in his voice surprised you.

Timidly, you stuttered out your name, a hum coming from underneath his mask.

You could hear the creak of the wooden door as it was pushed open, a click once it closed, and then you were left alone in the darkness of the castle corridor, heart threatening to leap from your chest. 

[bakugoushotwife]

inextricable (sasuke x reader)

a/n: just gonna dip my toes in the naruto water..see what we think. It's been so long since I watched Shipudden so if I get something wrong...no I didnt xoxo. this is definitely gonna need a second part, I wanna see if anyone likes it before I get too ahead of myself.

summary: Itachi spared two souls that night, his brother and the sister of the man he held most dear. No one can find the second Uchiha, no one can find out that there is a pureblood male and female still alive, ones that were born to be...inextricable.

pairings: sasuke x reader, maybe some naruto x reader if you squint

warnings: mentions of blood and death, angst!!! asshole Uchiha nonsense, dad mode Kakashi, reader is a bully lmfao, uhhhh long as shit

wc: 7840

next final

You were born to be best friends. At least, that’s what each of your parents had in mind. When Hae Uchiha told Mikoto that she was once again pregnant, the latter practically jumped for joy. She was a few months along with another boy, and she imagined your mother’s next child would make a perfect pal for her second born. Itachi and Shisui got along famously, the two borderline inseparable. 

Mikoto extended her hand to cover Hae’s not-yet showing stomach. “How far along?” She asked with a warm smile on her lips. 

Hae closed her eyes and returned the same embraceful grin. “Just a few months, she should be born soon after your boy!” 

“She! How exciting, I’m sure Sasuke will protect her for her whole life! Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Y/N…I always dreamed of naming my daughter Y/N.”

Mikoto returns her hand to her own stomach, her bump showing through. “That’s beautiful, Sasuke and Y/N…yes, they’ll be another version of our Itachi and Shisui!”

Hae beamed, knowing that her daughter would have a forever ally. 

Well, she had hoped, anyway. 

Nonetheless, you and Sasuke never spoke. He went out of his way to stay out of your path and you did the same for him. Truth be told, there was a great reason. There was hurt, and anger, and most forcefully, the fear, and what you had to do to hide. 

You had been friends, once. Just like your mothers had wanted, from birth, the two of you became inseparable. Where Shisui was a few years older than Itachi, feeling like an older brother to two now; Sasuke was only a few months your senior, making the two of you closer than even your own siblings.

Make no mistake, Shisui’s love for his younger sister was widely known and highly regarded. One might mistake you as his own daughter, if he wasn’t just nine years old. You were a much anticipated gift to the boy, he had been begging for a sibling for years. And his parents tried and tried to fulfill this wish, overjoyed when it came true. You truly were the pride of your branch, as hard as it may be to believe with Shisui’s reputation. Itachi was always kind, about six years older than you. Itachi would often babysit the two of you, being the perfectly responsible young man he was. Itachi was just happy to see Sasuke happy, and bonus points for you as well. He seemed oddly relieved that Sasuke had someone to grow attached to.

So you were, for about six years. You learned to walk together, he learned how to spell your name before he learned to spell his own, you refused to take naps without him. Once, Shisui and Itachi built little tricycles for the two of you, Sasuke’s purple and yours green. You rode those tricycles all over the village, laughing in the hot Konoha sun. You would traverse to the mountains and collect fruits to bring back for your mother to bake into sweet pastries. It was magical, it was perfect. Until that infamous night. 

That fateful night, the night that tore apart mind and soul, body and spirit. You thought it couldn’t get any worse. A hole had been left behind when Shisui died, something irreparable and ever painful. You couldn’t call it a void, for it was too powerful. It was nearly two years ago now, your tiny body and soul already weighed down with his loss. It created a rift between you and Sasuke, too. Itachi was blamed for his death for a while, and it hurt even more to feel so alone. You felt like you were drowning and no one was there to pull you back up, no one to even notice you slipping away… 

You had grown numb to the life that was without Shisui and Sasuke, you went to training and classes like you were supposed to. You did what you were told at home, your parents just as much a shell of themselves as you were. Everything that was colorvision faded to dull grays and empty blacks. Where you once saw beauty, you saw injustice. Where there was once love there was now ugly pain that had rooted, hatred growing in its place. Hatred for who? For Shisui, for dying? For Sasuke, for letting rumors pull you apart? For the forces of the universe that caused it all to begin with? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was a mixture of all three. 

When you came home that evening, it took you a moment to realize. The house had been quiet since Shisui passed, there was simply no joy without him. Yet still, you were used to the sound of your father’s footsteps shuffling through the kitchen, the clink of dishes. The sound of your mother turning pages in her book–everything was silent. Eerily so. A dread washed over you, familiar with the haunting ache. What was left of your heart sank in your stomach as you realize there was blood on the walls. Your breathing became rapid and shaky, you crept down the hall, hoping it was some cruel joke from the village or–or maybe it was paint!

There was no humor in what laid before you that night. Your parents lay slumped over, almost like they were sleeping. Kagami laid propped up against the wall, seated perfectly on the floor with his head tucked into his chest. Your mother’s head lay in his lap, her torso twisted at an awkward angle, legs sprawled. 

Tears cloud your vision immediately. You could feel your knees wobble and buckle, seemingly too heavy for yourself all of a sudden. You fell forward, hands and knees catching you and making a sickening squelch. You realize the stickiness soaking into your skirt was blood, the dark red blood of your parents. You scream. It’s more of a wail, your entire body wracked with emotion so strong, your eyes begin to burn. It hurts, it gives you a headache, and when you force your eyes open again, the world looks different. It felt…slower. You can see a glistening trail of what you can identify as chakra, it glows all over the house, coming in through a window and leaving through the front door. This had happened before, when Shisui died. Your sharingan was activated for the first time. This was different, it felt like a new level. You pull yourself up, running at the door. You throw it open and run into the street, tracking the chakra house to house where you only find more slumped over bodies. The entire clan, everyone…they’re gone. They’ve been slaughtered, every last one. You can’t bear it when the chakra trail leads you down Sasuke’s path, knowing you would find the last of your home in there. You never got to make amends, never got to reunite. Sasuke would be dead, just like everyone else you ever cared for. 

You’re stopped in your tracks when you see a figure in the street, you notice glowing red eyes, the pattern so familiar you couldn’t help but gasp. “I-itachi?” Your chin wobbled, the tears coming back as you ran closer, relieved to find someone alive, someone you know. 

��Back away, child.” His voice thundered, it chilled you to the bone. He had never spoken to you like that. 

“Itachi, it’s m-me! Y/N, you know me! I-I’m scared Itachi!” You plead with him, the new vision of yours highlighting the blood on his clothes the closer you got to him. 

“The second tomoe..” He revered, a nod of approval following, just as quick as it came, the familiarity left. He was icy again when he spoke, “You should be scared. You’ve realized what I’m capable of.” 

You fall back, astonished. This couldn’t have been, no, you refuse to believe such a thing. Itachi wasn’t…capable of this? He looked as if he was going to speak again, but another figure moving rapidly towards you grabbed his attention. It was Sasuke, alive after all. 

“I don’t believe it!” Sasuke said, tears streamed down his face, “This is too unlike you, Big Brother. I mean…” He looked around wildly, finding solace in your presence, relief. You couldn’t help the tears, the same relief he had coursing through your own mind. Itachi had spared you both, but why?

“You have the potential to become my opponent.” He directed his voice to his younger brother, ignoring you completely for the time being. “You are someone who could be able to use Mangekyo Sharingan just like me…” The wind blew ceremoniously, whipping up leaves from the ground and sacrificing them to the sky, to the full moon that was the only light to go by. “However, on one condition…that you must kill your closest friend..Just like I did.” His gaze flickers to you then, making Sasuke’s eyes widen. 

Sasuke gasps, as do you. Itachi really did kill Shisui. He has now killed your entire family. Your brother, his best friend, died senselessly to the little brother he never had. You were wrecked, this realization makes your head spin, the boy you’ve known since birth…Itachi Uchiha was a cold blooded killer, and your life was forever destroyed because of him. 

“That was…your doing?” Sasuke’s brows knit together in shock and confusion. “Big Brother, you…killed Shisui?” 

“That’s right…and because of that I obtained these eyes.” Itachi replied stone-faced. As if you needed the confirmation, but hearing the words from his very mouth absolutely ruined whatever remained of your soul. You felt your eyes burn once again, the vision skewing, leaving you momentarily blind before you blinked and everything was clear again. It was clearer than before, you could sense the movements of two brothers before they did them, this shouldn’t be possible. You had just awoken your second tomoe minutes earlier, had you already gained the third through this extreme emotional distress? There was rigorous training involved to level up your eyes, you could feel the drain it put on your body as it began to sway in the wind, feeling light. You couldn’t hold on much longer, you knew that, but you were in danger…and so was Sasuke, you had to fight for consciousness. 

“If you attain these eyes, you will become the third person including myself to utilize the Mangekyo Sharingan. However,” He turns abruptly, startling you both. “Neither of you are worth killing. And one day, Sasuke, when you have the same eyes I do…come and stand before me!” Itachi challenges, his eyes swirling into his familiar triangular pattern. 

“And you…” Itachi says, beckoning you forward with the point of his finger. “Come here, child.” He says, issuing an order. Sasuke makes a strangled struggling noise before he falls to the ground, the emotional distress leveling his eyes too fast as well. He was in a genjutsu, you realize, by the sounds he was making on the ground, crying out in agony. 

“Let him out of that! I’ll go with you, I won’t fight. Let him out.” You plead, not in the position to make any demands yourself. Even fighting wouldn’t get you out of this, Itachi was far too powerful, you could never hope to escape. 

Itachi chuckled dryly and shook his head. “No. He needs this. He will foster hatred and turn it into immense power. You…you have to be hidden.” He says, his voice in a dream-like state. He was thinking deeply, wondering what he should reveal to you. Enough to keep you alive, and nothing more. “You will stay away from Sasuke…until it’s time. No one can know your identity. It’s imperative you understand this, child.” He says, and if you didn’t know any better you would think he was panicked. Itachi kept calling you that, child, as if he were not. He was only 14, but he clearly felt much older. 

You were confused, but didn’t even know where to start asking him questions. He didn’t wait for a response, just sweeping you up in his arms and jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he was in the trees with you, Sasuke long abandoned on the outskirts of the village. Itachi was taking you somewhere, apparently to be hidden. “Itachi-san–please, I’m scared, I don’t understand!” 

“You need to be scared! You have to understand. Force yourself to. They can’t know that I left you alive, they know Sasuke will live…they can’t know that you do as well…it would be most troublesome…” Itachi explains without explaining a single thing. Who are “they”, and what involvement do they have in this? “A male and a female Uchiha could save the clan, they will not let that happen. I owe this to Shisui.” Itachi says quietly, dropping down in front of someone’s door. 

A man opens the door before Itachi can make a single noise. He was waiting for Itachi, you realize. 

“Here she is.. Train her to be strong, stronger than you. Keep them apart, keep them safe.” Itachi pleads, or as close to it as he can get. He sets you down, letting you see your new caretaker for the first time. 

“I understand, Itachi. It’s best if you get a move on, they’ll be on your scent soon.” The taller man says, the cover of the night obscuring your vision of him. 

Itachi nods, taking one last look at you with a trace of pain in his eyes. You look down at your feet, not sure what to make of the situation, everything happened so fast. “Thank you, Captain.” Itachi says with a curt nod before disappearing into a puff of smoke. 

It was silent. The wind blew again, whipping your hair into your face and pushing the clouds across the moon like it was a normal night. You begin to cry, everything so overwhelming you couldn’t help but do anything else. You’ve lost everything. Your family is dead, every single one. You, the sole survivor, have been placed with a stranger by the very man that murdered everyone you love. The last person alive that you care for is trapped in a genjutsu, lying on the pavement outside the house of his murdered family. 

The man crouched down to be on your level. He looked young, but you couldn’t really tell. His face was mostly covered, his shinobi headband covering his left eye and a black mask pulled over the lower half of his face. The most notable thing about him was his tall and spiky gray hair. His one brown eye looked at you sadly, and at once you knew he understood. You felt more at ease nearly immediately. You were still wary, after all he seemingly knew what was going on and had worked with Itachi. But the look in his eye and the expressive way he puts his hands on either arm of yours makes you feel safer. He knew sadness too, you recognized it in him. 

“Hello, little one. I know this has been…a horrible night, to understate…but you’re strong. You’re safe now, I’m Kakashi, and I’ll make sure of that.” He nodded determinedly, searching your expression for your next move. He frowns under his mask as you cry, unsure of how to console a young girl at his age of twenty two years. 

“What’s wrong with your face?” You ask, sniffling out your sentences and wiping viciously at your eyes. Your mind was all over the place, you didn’t want to think of this night anymore but the only other thing you could ponder was why the man in front of you dressed like that. 

He chuckled earnestly. “Oh!” He pushed his headband up to reveal a long scar running lengthwise over his eye and down his cheek to where the mask starts, but most strikingly a sharingan sat in the eye he kept covered. The sharingan consumes a massive amount of chakra for non-Uchiha wielders, so you gather that the eye was given or stolen almost immediately. 

“That’s partially why he left you with me. I can help with some of your training. You’re in luck, little one. The Hokage has just released me to be a jonin Sensei. So you’ll get first class training living with me. I…I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or hell..even understand what you’re going through.” Kakashi slipped his mask down just for you in this moment, wanting to earn the trust of his new foster child. “I will protect you and make you strong, smart, and ready for this world. It’s you and me now. I set up a room for you..” he adds rather sheepishly, sliding his mask back up after a nervous smile. “We can..make changes to it as time goes on, I wasn’t sure what would best be suitable for a girl of your age.”

You blink at him,eyes still bleary from leftover tears. You wipe at your eyes, your own sharingan taking in his full appearance and making a mental note. His half-baked motivational speech was partly moving, and you could tell he was genuine in this. You tilt your head to the side to analyze him further. He was young, taking on a six year old at his age was surely difficult. He was nervous, you could see that much, but his chakra was powerful and in a way, calming. 

“What about Sasuke?” You managed as he opened the door to his place. 

Kakashi sighs. “He will be taken care of, don’t worry. We have to keep you separate for now, it’s for the best. When you start school it may be different. Do you remember what Itachi said?” He asks, partly wondering what all the boy even told you. 

You nod. “He said they can’t know he left me alive. I don’t know who they are though.” You say, feeling everything all the time all at once. Pain, numbness, sadness, fear, nervousness and wonder. Your eyes were wide and your sharingan kept glowing, a red beacon in the dark night. You looked inside the home, small and neat. It looked like…a real place, which surprised you for some reason. With the night’s events it was becoming difficult to predict what would happen next, in your mind he was going to open the door to a slaughterhouse or some medical lab for testing. You were relieved to see it was a completely normal apartment. The young man led you to a decently sized bedroom right across the hall from the bathroom. It was decorated haphazardly, pink cherry blossom wallpaper was slapped on the wall, a little bed covered up with pink blankets sat in the middle of the room. There was even a closet outfitted with a few changes of clothes, luckily regularly colored. It was a nice effort, you recognized. It was natural for any young man to assume a six year old girl would love pink. Your favorite was green. It reminded you of rolling down hills and the bushes you would pluck fruit from, the trees the sun peeked over, the tricycle your brother built…and Sasuke’s was purple. 

“I hate pink.” You say solemnly, feeling bad almost immediately, he had tried to think of your comfort and here you were, being rude. “B-but it looks nice! Thank you…” You looked to him a bit confused on how you should address him. 

“Kakashi, that’s fine for now.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed for giving you a stereotypical girl room. It was clear that there was nothing to be assumed about you. “What color do you prefer, in that case? I can work on a replacement tomorrow.” Kakashi offered with a closed-eyed smile. 

“Purple.”

Kakashi followed through on his promise. The next time you went into your room, the walls were painted a deep plum, the covers that decorate your bed were as purple as the evening sky after the sun had left, and on a table you noticed a few more trinkets and accessories. There were hair ties and clips, little earrings and a purple headband. He heard the word purple and ran with it. Kakashi wasn’t sure why he displayed all this effort, well he had an idea.

He had knocked against your open door, just to alert you to his standing there. You still looked so sad. It had only been a day after all. At least you had stopped crying, he would happily take the progress. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “I hope some of those things make you feel a little more at home, Kurenai helped me pick them out…” He mentioned, once again, scratching at the back of his head nervously.That was his nervous tick, you noted. 

“Thank you, they’re pretty..” You say with a small smile, reaching for the headband and slipping it over the long black locks signature of your clan, luckily it was also a common characteristic of the citizens of the Stone village. That’s the story, anyway. Kakashi found you on a mission while in Iwagakure. You were newly orphaned, and had no one else to take you in. Which, now that you think about it, isn’t much of a lie at all. You were new to the Leaf village, and Kakashi was your young and kind foster father. It gave him a reason to change, and he didn’t know if he liked that yet; he did know that he wanted you to grow into a powerful kunoichi, and he had no doubt you could accomplish that. 

He cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N…I..” He hesitated, wondering if it was worth mentioning at this moment. He sighed out and continued. “I lost my father when I was six, as well. I don’t pretend to know everything you feel, but I do understand some of your pain. You can talk to me, when or if you ever want to. I’ll listen.” 

You look to your feet, the tears pooling in your eyes again. His kindness was overwhelming at times, you hadn’t expected him to be so warm. He just retired from the Anbu after all, and you were old enough to know what that meant. You nod your head after a minute, picking up a purple fuzzy stress ball. You squeeze down, finding it helps temporarily. 

“Mhm, I will..thank you for being here.” You mutter out after a few beats.  

“A-Alright. We’ll go out for dinner around 7. I’ll come get you.” Kakashi hummed pleasantly, touched by your gratefulness.

You were thankful that you wound up with someone like Kakashi. Last you’d heard, Sasuke was set up in a nice apartment, well taken care of and monitored by Lord Third himself. But he was alone, and that worried you. He was sure to become a cold shadow of the former joyous boy he had been, just as you are. But even you had another person around, someone to at least distract you from the constant pain. Sasuke didn’t have that, he didn’t even know if you were alive. The last thing he saw was his older brother sweeping you up and leaving with you. 

The purple made you feel better. It helped you feel just a little closer to where he was. You hoped he would make friends with the kids in his building, if there was any. You hoped he could power through and find happiness in the little things. Would he try to remember you? Find you, even? Your heart ached, you physically covered it with your hand and winced.  

You decided you hate Itachi. That you would do everything and anything it took to get to him and kill him. You came from a powerful line of the clan too, Shisui was a prodigy and the youngest to ever awaken his sharingan before you did it at four from his death. You committed, promised yourself in Kakashi’s apartment that you would train until your eyes bled, you would master genjutsu just as Shisui had, you would master chakra control. You would learn everything Shisui had mastered, and you would kill Itachi the same way he had killed your brother. 

Little did you know that Sasuke had made himself the same promise. He would avenge his family, your brother in your honor, he would become a worthy opponent and he would use Mangekyo to kill the man that had caused all this pain. 

He was beyond lonely, there was no word to describe the hell he was living. He relived his parents’ death again and again, trapped in a genjutsu by his older brother. But the nightmare was reality. He had no one, everything was destroyed. The only person left was missing at best, dead at the worst. Even once he was released from the genjutsu’s chakra control, the only thing burned into his eyelids was the scene of his parents' slaughter. The only thing he can hear is the sound of your tears as Itachi admits to killing your brother, it’s miserable. 

 Why did Itachi spare them both, did he really just want to fight? Well, Sasuke could give him that. He couldn’t wait to start the academy, to refine his talents and find a rival and friend that could fulfill his needs for the Mangekyo Sharingan his brother wants him to have so badly. There wasn’t a reality that existed where he would kill you for it, as his brother insinuated. He was sure that his new friends would suffice, when the time came. 

Kakashi had arranged for him to proctor your bypass exam the following year. The rules for the Academy aren’t concrete, and you were a prodigy after all. Kakashi stressed your physical prowess and shadow clone jutsu to get you through the Academy in just one year, passing your genin exam easily. 

Over time, your numbness had resided. You found yourself motivated by revenge and desire for rebuilding what was taken from you. Kakashi was a friend and mentor, and he helped you train your eyes and genjutsu regularly. He had to, as you weren’t allowed to display this power outside of the training grounds with no one else around. You had to train harder over the next few years, both your sharingan abilities and those you would use to cover your identity. 

Kakashi and yourself had landed on a plant style jutsu, where you could summon different plants, both poisonous and strangling variations. It reminded many of Hashirama Senju’s wood style jutsu. Your chakra control was impressive, and your inclination toward medical nin was just another tool in your arsenal. You owe most of this to your mentor, who, so far, has followed through on his promise to make you as strong as he can. 

He was impressed by you, a prodigy indeed. It was no surprise you were Shisui’s younger sister. He wondered how you could have absorbed so much from him since he passed when you were so young, now a girl of twelve. He can’t believe he’s had you in his charge for six years now, and how you’ve grown in that time. He cared for you like his own child, even though he was not much older than a kid himself when he decided to take you in. 

It was hard work, especially now. He had been assigned as Sasuke’s sensei, along with two other promising shinobi. He was splitting most of his time between his new team and the child he’s been training for years. He found it hard to hand you over to Kurenai, even though the woman was somewhat familiar with your delicate case. She didn’t know your true identity, as Kakashi would never risk that knowledge to anyone, but she had helped Kakashi with the more delicate matters of your girlhood your entire life. He had kept you in his own training since you graduated the academy, it was time for you to join a team and attempt the chunin exams. He knows you’ll pass easily, so why is it that he’s so nervous? 

Because he knows the days of keeping you and Sasuke apart are over. He knew he wouldn’t be able to prevent it forever, but he wasn’t ready for you to revisit that time in your mind. He didn’t wan your hard work to crumble once you faced your old friend again, under the guise of an adopted Hatake. Would Sasuke call you out immediately? He hadn’t been given the same warnings to stay away, as far as Kakashi knew. The boy was angry, and he was boiling over with immense talent. He had been working with the boy on chidori and other sharingan practices that he had once done with you.  Kakashi knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent Sasuke from seeking revenge, and it bothered him…deep down inside he knew you were the same way, your anger tamed to your own mind. You were quiet all the time, your chakra a lime green–just a few shades lighter than your brothers. He could feel your emotions and recklessness bubble inside you. It was just a matter of time, but the seasoned shinobi worried what would come of the girl once she was faced with the Lone Uchiha, and what would come of him when he saw her. 

You were first. The beginning match was you against a girl named TenTen. You thought she looked silly. Ridiculous, almost. Her speciality was weapons, you heard her talking about it as all the chunin hopefuls piled into the colosseum type building. As far as you could tell, she had no special control of chakra or any impressive jutsu. This would be over quickly. 

The two of you stepped forward, the sound of your first name making Sasuke’s heart stop. He looked over at the scene, brows knitting together in confusion. His teammates, Naruto and Sakura started whispering about the match. But they truly don’t know how to whisper, Sasuke tuning into their every word. Y/N? Hatake…? It looked like you, at least close to what he could remember. But you were definitely an Uchiha, and surely he would have known if you were living in the village this whole time?

“Kakashi Sensei’s daughter?” Naruto asked with a sense of disbelief. “I didn’t know Kakashi Sensei had a family!” He adds.

Sakura slaps him lightly on the arm. “He rescued her from the Stone! She was six when her parents died and the villagers were just too busy to take care of her, that’s what I heard.” 

Sasuke arched his brow in curiosity. Kakashi really hadn’t mentioned you, and the way you walked around the battle ring piqued his interest. You were confident, cocky even. You let TenTen throw a few exploding kunai at you, easily outjumping them. You weren’t using sharingan, he noted, but there was no mistaking that smirk. That truly hadn’t changed a bit, your features easily identifiable to him. It seems like Kakashi attempted bleaching your hair at one point, but it had grown out now. You had dark black roots, your eyes big and dark brown. It was you, there was no argument to be made otherwise. You chuckled at TenTen, making her scrunch her nose up in anger. She charged at you with another kunai. You grasped her wrist, quickly turning it and making her drop the weapon, kicking her hard in the stomach, sending her flying through the air. 

The crowd gasped, knowing the other girl would be seriously hurt if she landed on the hard ground from that height, the power of your chakra control something to be feared. You closed your eyes and weaved a hand sign. Out of nowhere, a giant lilypad caught TenTen, keeping her from serious harm. As the crowd sighed with relief, everyone watched more vines burst free from the ground, tying the opponent to the lilypad without any fuss. 

Needless to say, you won the match effortlessly. Kakashi took a deep breath of relief, wandering over to his own team of hopefuls. 

Sasuke stared at you, watching you help TenTen out of the plant trap once the winner was announced. He didn’t even notice Kakashi coming up behind them. 

“Certainly an exciting first match!” Their sensei said with delight, as if he didn’t know anything about you and was just as surprised as everyone else. 

Naruto nodded with widened eyes before remembering that Kakashi hadn’t mentioned being a father. “Hey, Kakashi Sensei, how come you didn’t tell us you adopted that girl?” 

Sasuke tore his studying gaze away from you to hear the answer to this. 

Kakashi shrugged. “It never came up, of course. My job is to train you as shinobi, not teach you my life story.” He replied coolly, as if they were unreasonable for wondering. 

Sasuke narrowed his gaze at Kakashi, identifying that there was more to the story. There was something he was missing, why would they change your name and try to hide your hair? Why would Kakashi be involved? He needs to find you and ask you himself, because he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere with his sensei. 

But how could he be certain you would talk to him? The last memory you share is his brother basically saying he kept you alive so that he could kill you later. Maybe you were trying to distance yourself from him specifically. Maybe you didn’t know he was here just as much as he didn’t know you were. It was his turn to fight next, but he planned to track you down after the battle was quickly won. You beat TenTen in 18 seconds, his goal was to beat that time. Then he would just have to make you understand that he wasn’t a threat to you. 

He beat your time by six seconds, dismantling Choji Akimichi in 12. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, he was very good. Just as you hoped. It would always hurt to stay apart, you realized then. He surely recognized you from your fight, so now you had to work to keep him away. Just as the battle was wrapping up, you pushed through the crowds, getting stopped by some of the girls your age. You had briefly talked to some of them, but you didn’t care to now. You had to get away, distance yourself. He would surely come looking for you. 

“Y/N-chan! Who do you think the hottest boy here is?” Ino asks, a beautiful blond girl with a ditsy grin. 

You roll your eyes at the question. “Really, that’s what you’re worried about right now?” You ask, confused by her priorities. You turn your head, noticing people parting a little down the way, knowing what that means you turn back to the girl. 

Ino giggles and nods. “I’m a great multi-tasker! I know all the girls are dying to get closer to Sasuke Uchiha!” She purrs, cheeks turning red at the mention of his name. 

You sigh, with forced disgust you groan. “I for one don’t want to be anywhere near Sasuke Uchiha.” You say, folding your arms and walking onwards, hoping the digging comment would keep Sasuke at arms length. 

You should know better than to think yourself lucky. You feel a weight on your shoulder, keeping you from getting away. 

“Why would you say that?” He asked, voice on the quiet side as he stared at your back. Your hair was wavier than it was when you were younger, or maybe it was just because it was so long. 

You scoff. “I don’t owe you anything.” 

It was his turn to scoff. “Y/N Hatake?” He practically hisses at you. “I think you owe it to me to explain why you’re not using your sharingan.” 

You turn and clap your hand down over his mouth. Your eyes are wide with a frenzied type of fear, searching around to make sure no one heard him. “Don’t say that. You don’t understand.” 

He pushed you off him easily, looking at you with a mix of frustration and confusion. “No I don’t understand because no one tells me anything! I didn’t even know you were in the village!” He says angrily. 

You bite the inside of your lip, debating your options. Maybe it would be easier to explain it all, maybe if he could understand why this was happening he could play his role and you could both stay safe. You know that would help put Kakashi at ease. 

“Come with me.” You order pointedly, walking out of the building with the knowledge that you had at least twenty minutes until your next battle. You keep walking, far away from the building or any people.

Sasuke follows you into the treeline, mind racing. He didn’t know what to expect. He eyes you with his sharingan, noticing your abundance of chakra and power. He blinks his doujutsu away.

 “Now.” He orders expectantly, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t know why…” You admit with a shrug, thinking back to what Itachi said that night, both about Mangekyo and how important it is to keep away from Sasuke. “But when Itachi took me away, he said ‘they’ couldn’t know that he spared me, that it was dangerous to have a male and a female. He said it was imperative for us to stay away from each other, “until it is time.” I’m not sure what that means, really. But Kakashi agrees…there’s more to this that I don’t even know.” You explain cautiously, your eyes trained on the boy in front of you. He hadn’t changed much, except for the most striking thing. His features were haunted by grief, the once happy and smiling eyes turned cold and empty. You wonder if he thinks the same of you. 

“I would never hurt you.” He says simply, a hint of annoyance laced through it. 

You blink at him a few times, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not scared of you.” You clarify for him, looking at a spot on the ground. “I’m scared of the ‘they’ Itachi was worried about.”

He considers this, looking at the same spot on the ground that you are, as if there were hidden answers stored there. “So that’s why Kakashi Sensei never mentioned you, then. He doesn’t want me around you.” He determines, the annoyance gone and replaced with a hint of sorrow. 

“It’s not a personal grudge, he knows how hard it’s been on me…” You defend softly, the corners of your lips dropping. “Until we know who I’m hiding from, I have to stay under cover like this. I’m sorry..”

His body tensed with anger, you could tell he was close to snapping. “I want revenge, I swear I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him for what he did to me, what he did to you!” He announces, eyes teeming with tears of anger. “We can get revenge together, we can find and destroy those that caused this, and you can live as an Uchiha, like you’re supposed to! You can’t be a kunoichi without your sharingan!” 

You sympathize with his pain, after all, you feel the same way. His offer of revenge sounds nice, so you nod. “When the day comes where we are ready to seek revenge, I’ll accompany you.” You say, envisioning the two of you as jounin, ready to track Itachi down. 

He smiles when he hears this. “Until then.” He says, taking another look at you. If he wasn’t so damned angry, his heart would be relieved to see your familiar face, just a few years older. You were utterly unchanged, even the grief written into your face seemed to disappear when you smiled. He would keep his distance like you requested, until it was time to enact revenge. 

You wait for Sasuke to disappear back into the treeline before you begin to walk back to the arena. It would be your turn soon, and you intend to impress–without your sharingan–just to prove how powerful you really can be. 

By the end of your second match against Sakura, the crowd of other expecting chunin whispered amongst themselves. It really wasn’t her fault, she was like the others. She was completely unfocused on being strong, only desiring to look desirable. It’s a shame, you hoped she would change after this. Your Venus Flytrap jutsu was too much against any opponent, she was just its latest victim. Your giant flower sprouts from the ground and grabs the unsuspecting opponent in its teeth, releasing venom on your command. You wouldn’t take it that far unless you wished to kill. You make a few hand signs, “Release!” You call, letting Sakura tumble from the mouth of your monstrous flytrap. 

Still the crowd spoke of your victories, all quick and painless. You were surely impressive, and it was no wonder you graduated to genin in a year, just like your adoptive father. “You can tell she’s trained by Kakashi Sensei.” Someone said as you walked past, shaking their head in wonder. 

“She’ll be another heartless Anbu member in no time, just like her dad.” Someone else declared, linking your emotionless victories back to Kakashi’s vicious streak. You wanted to lash out in his defense, but maybe it’s better if they thought that of you. It’s good for them to compare you, as if you were related the whole time. It kept them from thinking anything was off, so you’d take it for now. 

Sasuke was thoroughly impressed with your abilities, though he’d likely never say so aloud. Naruto was also occupying his mind as his rival was also the other popular subject amongst his classmates. Naruto won all of his battles that day, all his classmates plus the mysterious Y/N Hatake made it to chunin. 

Things only spiraled from that day. Kakashi relaxed a little when you told him that Sasuke understood why you needed to keep your distance. He didn’t mind for his team to interact with you as much now, but Sasuke did. 

He hated being close to you while not being able to be close to you. That annoying Naruto was quickly becoming a close friend to you, leaving Sakura to obsess over him. Needless to say he hated everything about that arrangement. He didn’t want Naruto near you in the slightest, and he hated pathetic girls like Sakura. He hated everyone, no one seemed to understand. He was training for a real goal, meanwhile the others just wanted to be cool. He wanted more, he needed more. He would never relinquish this goal. He would never admit that Naruto was stronger than him, even if it meant he had to leave to become stronger. 

You told him that you would go with him, right? That when the day came, when he was ready to seek revenge, you would go with him. That’s what you said. So Sasuke was loud about his plans, he didn’t care to put Naruto down when he tried to stop him from leaving that day. 

Even when Kakashi explained to him that revenge was not all he thinks it is, he was undeterred. The emotions swirling inside him, the life that was stolen away…he had to get that back. And if Kakashi wouldn’t help him do it, then he would find someone who will. 

Sakura tried to stop him too, right on the edge of the village. The two of you sprinted there when you heard, Sakura a mess of tears, you a mess of nerves and emotion. 

You watched with your mouth agape as Sakura begged him not to go, only met with fierce rebuttals and disapproval from the Lone Uchiha. She even offered to go with him, which evoked a warped laugh from the dark haired boy. 

He was different. Completely consumed by his grief and desire for justice. He wasn’t thinking properly, and your heart dropped when you saw several shinobi from a different village drop from the trees. They’re here as escorts?

“Sasuke!” You shout in disappointment. “You’ll make yourself an enemy of the Leaf, just settle down and think about this for a minute, please!” You step forward, past Sakura and her unyielding tears. 

He chuckled with mirth. “This is all I can think about, Y/N. I refuse to let Sakura join me on this, she’ll just ruin her name.” He groaned, appearing behind the girl and knocking her out in a swift motion, laying her body on a bench. You eye him in disbelief. He was serious about this. You didn’t doubt your ability to stop him by force, excepting the three or four sound village ninja that would surely interfere. 

He looks at you with a crazed glint in his eyes. He holds out his hand to you. “Are you ready to go?”

You look from his hand and then back to him, shaking your head in shock. It’s that curse mark, you think to yourself. This isn’t him, he just needs to see that. “Sasuke, you’re being controlled. You’re not thinking clearly.” 

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Oh on the contrary, dear Y/N. I’m thinking clearly for the first time!” He protests, staring at you with disgust. “You told me you wanted revenge too, you told me you’d join me!” 

“I thought you meant when we were finished training! As Jounin! I didn’t think you meant defecting!” You defend yourself, thinking of Naruto’s heartbreak once he discovered that he wasn’t able to keep Sasuke. 

“Pathetic.” Sasuke hissed, shaking his head at you. “You’re weak. That’s why you can’t bring yourself to leave. You know you can’t take revenge, I wouldn’t want you weighing me down anyway.” He spat, his words cut like a knife. 

“Please don’t do this. They’ll send people after you! You can’t do this by yourself..” You plead desperately, hoping against all hope that you could get to the friend you once held so dearly. 

“Watch me.” He says, casting one last disappointed glare over his shoulder before walking to the shinobi waiting to guide him away. 

You watch him leave, the figures disappearing into the trees without a trace. You didn’t even notice the tears begin to roll down your face, nor did you hear Naruto and Kakashi land on either side of your body. 

“Wh-what just happened, Y/N-chan?” Naruto asked innocently, trying to delude himself against the truth before he even heard it. 

“Sasuke left the Leaf.” You reply, eyes fixated on the spot he last occupied in front of you. He was bound to be tracked down or hurt by someone dangerous before he could come to his senses. Had you upset him so badly that he would speak of your secret? Kakashi seems to know what you’re thinking as you make eye contact. You knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, the curse…you can get him, bring him back and have the mark removed. 

“I can catch him if I go now..”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

tags: @cullenswife @sixxze @anele-anomis @cigarettesandicedcoffee @jheneaikosbae

[lixzey]

Heart to Heart

super thanks to @lilmaymayy for all the help 🤍

ONE. TWO. THREE.

warnings: mentions of death, car accident, hospitalization, and surgery.

wc: 2.8k

Y/N L/N had it all. A perfect life, a loving family, friends, you name it.

She's a beautiful woman with a heart and soul to match it. But, she's dying.

Her heart, it's killing her. She has everything, except a heart donor. Her heart has a hole, and it's keeping her from living her life. 

“M-Mom..I-I can't breathe, it hurts...” Then everything faded to black.

Y/N woke up in a room with clean white walls, crisp white bed sheets and the sickening smell of disinfectant. The only thing she could hear was the silent beeping of the monitor, she was in the hospital—again. 

Y/N closed her eyes shut, she didn't want to be in this place. She had already spent all her life in hospitals, she didn't want to die in one. Then, she heard hushed voices—one of which was her mother.

“Doc, is my daughter okay? Will she be okay?” her mom asked, her voice shaky.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. L/N.” 

“H-how long?” 

“Six months—a year, if we're lucky.” 

Y/N's mom let out a shaky exhale, “Is...is there any other way?” 

“The only way your daughter can survive is a heart transplant. Your daughter's condition is very critical, and there may be some complications if the transplant isn't done as soon as possible. That six months? It could be possible that she'd die today, tomorrow, next week, next month. Anything can happen, and if I were you I'd find a donor as soon as possible.” Then the doctor left, leaving Y/N's mom to break down silently. 

“M-Mom?” Y/N asked in a hoarse dry voice.

Her mom turned around, and forced a smile—her cheeks were stained with fresh tears and her eyes were red and puffy—probably from being sleep deprived. 

“Mom, am I going to die?” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. Her mom quickly rushed to her side, hugging her tight. 

“Mom, I'm- I don't wanna die! I can't die! I want to chase my dreams, Mom! I want to live-”

“It's going to be alright, sweetheart. I won't let you die, I won't.”

Y/N felt the whole world crumble. She was too young to die. She was barely even in her early twenties—she was only twenty three—and already spent her life in hospitals. She wasn't even finished with college, all she wanted to do ever since she was a little girl was to be  a lawyer, and now with her declining condition it would be a miracle to reach 24. She isn't supposed to die, she was supposed to live her dreams—not be stuck in a hospital room or six feet under ground. 

It has been two weeks since Y/N's diagnosis. And still, she had no donor. It was honestly nerve wracking—simply  knowing that your days are limited, Y/N had no idea if she'd be alive the next day or even the next hour. It was torture, her heart and chest aching every minute of day. She couldn't get out of her bed—or even eat for that matter. 

Y/N L/N had a lot of things on her list she wanted to do. She had dreams, big fucking dreams. Y/N dreamt of becoming one of the most prestigious lawyers the world has ever seen. She was a bright kid growing up—she always had good grades and usually never let her illness get the best of her, but when it did she made sure to still make an effort to complete each and every homework assignment. And now because of her illness, she'd lose all of the good things in her life. There were so many  things Y/N still wanted to do, and one of them was falling in love. 

Y/N sighed, she was tired of her life being a complete opposite of what she wanted. She grabbed her phone from her nightstand and scrolled through her tiktok, hoping for a bit of good news around the world—like world peace or maybe mother earth is healing. 

“Timothée Chalamet's girlfriend, dead on the spot in a car crash!”

“Poor guy.” Y/N muttered as she read the comments on the video. Why was life that cruel? Sure, Y/N didn't know the guy, but based on the comments he loved his girlfriend. 

“Y/N, darling! It's time for dinner! You still need to take your medicine!” Y/N's mom called from downstairs. Y/N slowly stood up, her vision was suddenly blurry—her chest tightened and her heart felt like it was stabbed—this wasn't like any episode she ever had.  She fell to the floor with a loud thud, her eyes fighting to stay open. 

The last thing Y/N heard was her mom screaming for help before everything went pitch black.

Timothée woke up with a terrible feeling, like something had happened—or something bad was going to happen. He had just gotten home from Paris fashion week and he was still jet lagged. Timothée brushed the feeling off, yawning as he got up from his bed, walking to his bathroom to get ready for the day—even if he had nothing to do. 

Suddenly his phone rang, it was Zendaya. 

“What's up, Z?“ Timothée asked, his voice still groggy. 

“Are you okay? Fuck, I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, Tim. Condolence-” Timothée's eyes widened, “What the hell are you talking about, Z?” 

“Oh shit, you don't know yet?” 

“What do I don't know, Zendaya? You're scaring me.” 

“I'm so sorry, Tim. Check the news.” Timothée quickly ended the call. He opened every social media account that he had, until he found the news.

“Timothée Chalamet's girlfriend, dead on the spot in a car crash!”

Timothée felt his whole world shatter. He felt numb as tears prickled against his eyes, beginning to stream down his face. Timothée called his girlfriend's best friend, frantically asking what hospital she was taken to. He grabbed his car keys and bolted out of his house. Timothée was shaking, he wanted to kill whoever crashed into his girlfriend's car. He drove as fast as he could, his vision was getting blurred by tears—but he didn't care. He needed to get to her. He needed to get to his Kaylee. 

As soon as Timothée arrived at the hospital, he parked his car—not caring if it was too far from the entrance—and ran toward the hospital.

“Where's Kaylee Jenkins!?” Timothée practically screamed at the nurse on duty.

“Timothée.” He looked back and saw his and Kaylee's friends, Tom and Hannah. 

“Where is she!?” Timothée roared, grabbing Tom's collar angrily. 

“Calm down, Timothée!” Hannah snapped at him, pulling him off of Tom. 

“How am I supposed to calm down!? My girlfriend is dead! The love of my fucking life is dead! Tell me where the fuck she is before I fucking lose it!” 

“Timothée Hal!” 

“Tell me!” Timothée yelled again. 

Tom sighed, feeling hurt for his friend,  “Take him to Kaylee. I'll wait for Zendaya and Kaylee's family.” 

Hannah led Timothée to the morgue. As soon as she opened the door, Timothée saw her—the only body inside of the morgue—covered by a white sheet. He let out a shaky breath before he slowly lifted the cloth covering Kaylee's face. 

His beautiful Kaylee, bruised and bloody.

“I'll leave you alone for a bit.” Hannah patted him on his shoulder, before walking out and giving him time with his beloved. 

Timothée stared at Kaylee, the woman he loved for three years, the woman he wanted to marry—gone—taken away from him. He touched her lips that he always kissed, her nose that always scrunched when she got annoyed, and her once rosy cheeks that he loved to pinch. He kissed her forehead, for the last time.

“I love you, Kaylee.” Timothée whispered, tears streaming from his green eyes. “You're so unfair, Kaylee. You said that we'd be together forever, you said you'd never leave me, but you did. You promised we'd grow old together, that we'd build a life together....” Timothée sobbed, “I will never forget you, my love. I love you so fucking much, you're the only girl I will ever love like this.” 

Y/N woke up back in the hospital. Her mother was smiling from ear to ear, “What happened, Mom?” Y/N asked. 

“You fainted again. Don't worry, you're okay. You finally have a heart donor!” her mother smiled, “You're going to live!” 

“Really?” Y/N almost squealed, “H-How? What happened?” 

Y/N's mom softy smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead. “Sadly, another girl passed away, but her parents agreed to donate her heart for you. But you're going to live, sweetheart. You're going to live and be able to grow old.” she whispered. 

“Thank you, Mom.” 

Y/N finally felt hope for one, hope for her future, hope for her life. She finally had a chance to live, without worrying if one day her heart would just stop. It was a miracle—a chance to know how her life would turn out. A gift she'd be thankful for the rest of her life. 

Y/N asked her mother who was her heart donor. Her mother said it was from a girl who died in a car accident. Y/N was first on the list of donees, and her mother had already talked to her donor's parents—they agreed, because somehow they could feel their daughter's presence even if she's gone, because I'd have her heart. Everything was ready, she would be operated on as soon as possible.  

After the operation, Y/N woke up with her mother beside her. 

“Mom?” Y/N croaked out. 

“Y/N.” Her mother smiled at her, tears were forming in her mother's eyes. 

“Why are you crying, mom?” 

“I thought I'd lose you forever, Y/N/N.” her mother sniffled, “I'm so happy, darling. You're alive and well, what more can a mother ask for?”

After a week, Y/N finally went home. She'd continue her recovery at home, and day by day she was getting better. 

Six months later.

“Y/N, darling? Go get ready, we're going somewhere.”  

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked. 

“The parents of the girl who donated your heart wants to meet you.”

“Oh, okay. I'll go get ready.” Y/N smiled at her mother before turning to get ready. 

She was going to meet the parents of the person who gave her a chance to live again. 

Y/N and her mother drove an hour and a half to a house in the Bronx. As soon as Y/N got out of the car, she saw a man with beautiful green eyes and chocolate brown curls looking at her. Her heart suddenly started pounding in her chest. The man gave her a small smile, before walking away. He looked miserable—like he hasn't slept in days—months even. 

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins.” Y/N's mother greeted an older couple—they were around their late forties.

“Oh nonsense! Call us Marian and Adam.” the woman—Marian—smiled warmly. “And you must be Y/N, right?” Y/N nodded, “Yes, ma'am.” Suddenly, both Marian and Adam hugged her tightly. Y/N stumbled back a bit, but she let them hug her. She assumed it felt comforting—maybe because they could hear their daughter's heart inside her. 

“Sorry, I hope you don't mind,” the older woman apologised as she pulled away from Y/N, “It's just, it feels like I'm hugging Kaylee again and-” 

“No worries Marian,” Y/N smiled, “You can hug me as long as you want. I may not be Kaylee, but I can be like a daughter to you.” 

Marian started to sob, “Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot to me, to us.” 

Then suddenly, the man who Y/N saw earlier came up to her and hugged her tight. She didn't know what was happening, the man was hugging her tight—tighter than what Marian and Adam did. But, Y/N didn't pull away. His hug felt like coming home. Y/N felt her heart beat rapidly, like banging drums. 

After a few minutes—yes, minutes—the man pulled away from Y/N. The two locked eyes, and Y/N felt time stood still around her, like everything was a movie. 

Marian and Adam led Y/N and her mother to their backyard. They talked for a bit—told her to take care of herself and always stay safe. Of course they'd say that, because their daughter's heart was inside her.  

Y/N found out the name of the man who hugged her. He was Timothée Chalamet, Kaylee's boyfriend of three years. He's a famous actor, but Y/N didn't know him. How would she even know him? She spent all her life inside hospitals—she really didn't have the time to watch movies or Hollywood dramas. 

“Hey, it's been great meeting you and,  uh-this may be an awkward o-or forward question, but, uh-do you think I can get your number? I'd like to get to know you better.” Timothée asked, a hopeful look plastered on his face. 

“Yeah sure, it's no problem.”

Ever since Y/N and Timothée exchanged numbers, they’ve been texting each other back and forth. It even became Y/N’s routine to start her day with sending him a “good morning” and ending it with a reply to Timothee’s “goodnight”. 

Until one day Timothée texted her, asking if she'd like to go out with him. 

Hey

What's up, Tim?

Do you have plans tomorrow night?

Uh, none that I could think of. Why?

Can I ask you out?

What?

On a date. Or maybe just hang out? I don't know, we can do whatever you want. 

When Y/N read his offer to go on a date and she squealed into her pillow, kicking her feet up in the air at the excitement rumbling in her stomach. She knew it was wrong. He was-or is still grieving, he just lost his girlfriend of three years in an instant. But with his charming words, his sexy voice, mesmerizing green eyes, and his perfect face she couldn't help a slight crush forming. She was talking to a celebrity, and it felt like a dream—like something you'd see only in movies. 

“Mom, Timothée just asked me out.” 

“What? Really? Y/N, that's amazing! You're going on a date for the very first time!” her mom teased. 

Y/N has never exactly been on a date before but this is how it would be like, right? 

The next day, Y/N got ready for her date—or to hang out with Timothée, as a friend— or maybe something more? hopefully anyways. She was giddy, she was going on a date with a handsome guy who just so happened to be a famous actor. Who wouldn't be excited? Y/N wore a simple off-shoulder blue dress that flourished just above her knees and some white strappy wedge heels. Her hair was braided to the side with some simple lip gloss, foundation, and blush for makeup. 

After waiting for what felt like hours, their doorbell rang. It's him, he's actually here, picking her up for an entire day together. When Y/N opened the door, she saw him wearing a white shirt under a leather jacket paired with denim jeans. His hair was perfectly messy—Y/N wanted to run her fingers through his curls so badly. Timothée Chalamet is undeniably handsome, as if he was carved by the gods. 

“Y-you look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks, you look good too.” Y/N chuckled nervously. Timothée led Y/N to his car and opened the door for her. Timothée took Y/N to one of his favourites. Buvette Gastrotheque—a small french café in West Village. The place was cosy, quaint, and there weren't a lot of people. Sitting down at a small table, Timothée ordered the COQ au Vin while Y/N got the Salade de Poulet. They paired it off with red wine, and chocolate mousse for dessert. As they waited for their food to arrive, Timothée and Y/N talked about life, interests, favourite foods, and surprisingly—they had a lot in common. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” 

“I know we've only been talking for a month, but i need to tell you something.” Timothée grabbed her hand, intertwining it with his, “I'm….. well, uh- starting to see you a little differently.. You know? I just-” he sighs, “I feel something for you, Y/N. And I wanna know if you would ever feel the same way.”

Y/N felt the world around her stop, her eyes locking with his. Ever since he asked for her number she knew she was going to love him, but she didn't feel as happy as she thought she would be. Instead, she felt a pit slowly sinking to her stomach. 

It was wrong. 

Absolutely wrong.

It's been less than a year since Kaylee passed and he's already moving on, what if he doesn't actually like her but rather the heart she now wore. Y/N was speechless. She couldn't utter a word. She wanted to say she was slowly getting feelings for him too, but she knew she couldn’t. 

“Timothée....”

“Y/N, please. Think about it. Give me an answer when you're ready. Just....please give me a chance.”

@lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad

[floyds-favorite-shrimp]

Yes I meant it!

Deuce Spade x Fem!Yuu

Fluff and Jealousy!

Word Count: 2722

Under Cut!

Yuu followed behind the group of students who had decided to accompany Deuce to his hometown for the White Rabbit festival. Deuce led the way, followed by Epel, Ortho, Silver, Grim, and Yuu quietly brought up the rear. The town was colorful, and it was hard for Yuu to ever picture anyone who lived there ever becoming a delinquent (though if she was being honest, it was hard to picture Deuce as a delinquent anyway.)

They walked through the town, Deuce was enthusiastically informing them of the history and tradition associated with the White Rabbit festival. Yuu’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the language Deuce was using, which seemed very un-Deuce like. It wasn’t long before he admitted to reading to them straight from a tour guide brochure. Yuu smiled slightly at his sweet antics, and for a moment their eyes met. His bright eyes seemed to tear straight through her, her heart fluttering wildly 

Deuce broke their eye contact first, and Yuu felt her heart fall slightly. She could stare at him all day, but she had a strange feeling that the notion wasn’t reciprocated. She sighed softly to herself. Of course Deuce wouldn’t pay attention to her, not when she was an option.

*One hour Earlier*

“Welcome to Clock Town!” Deuce had said once they emerged from the mirror and stepped out into the busy square. It was easy to tell that he was proud to show off where he came from, even if he didn’t have all of the info on it. The fat that he was trying so hard was proof that he  had grown as a person since his rougher years. The group had walked around for a bit, before Deuce was finally stopped by someone he knew.

“Deuce? Is that you?” Came a sickeningly sweet voice. The whole group stopped, turning in unison to see who had called out to him. Yuu had to force herself to look, her stomach sinking with anxiety. She was sure no just-a-friend would call out to him in that tone of voice. Her stomach dropped even farther once she saw the vessel the voice had projected from. 

She had dark hair. Like a starless night after a storm. Yuu was sure that had she ever had the opportunity to stare straight into a black hole, this is the color that would stare back. Her eyes, however, were more like a cloudless sky in the summer. A gentle blue that seemed to see straight into your soul. Yuu immediately took a step back, hiding herself partially behind Silver’s tall frame. 

The girl walked straight up to Deuce, getting within a foot of him. Yuu bit her lip, so focused on the interaction happening in front of her that she didn’t seem to notice Ortho’s glance back at her. 

The girl’s hands immediately went to Deuce’s hair, running her fingers through it.

“Ah, you let it grow out.” She noted, putting on that same sweet voice. Yuu was confused. She distinctly remembered Ace teasing Deuce for never being able to get a date before, so just what was going on here?

“C’mon Layla, cut it out.” Deuce said kindly, taking a step back from her. Her hand hung in midair for a moment before it fell. Her smile became strained. “I’m here showing around some friends from my school. They’ve never come to Clock Town for the festival before.” He informed her. Her gaze turned towards the group, eyeing each of them one at a time and pausing for a moment longer on Yuu, who was still trying to stay out of sight. Yuu felt her heartbeat quicken. She wanted to walk up to her with her head held high, but she couldn’t find the courage to do it. 

It’s not that Yuu was afraid of Layla, not by any means. But Yuu knew that if the two women stood side-by-side, it would be similar to a dolphin next to a crustacean. She didn’t want to give the others (and especially Deuce) the chance to make that comparison themselves so she stayed back as the two old friends conversed. She sighed, and her proximity to Silver allowed him to hear it. He turned his head back to look at her, but she was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t seem to notice. 

*Current*

Deuce’s mom, Dylla, had found them wondering about town and had given Deuce a piece of her mind for not contacting her as soon as he got to town. She seemed to forgive him quickly enough, however, when they all agreed to allow her to dress them up for the festival. Dylla had taken a special liking to Yuu, as she dragged her off separately from the boys to help her get changed. The boys were all waiting for the two ladies to return.

“I don’t believe Yuu is feeling very good.” Ortho said, once he was sure Yuu wasn’t around. “My system was picking up changes in her vitals as we walked through town earlier.” The young boy had a look of concern on his face.

“I concur.” Silver said. “She seemed to be acting strangely earlier today.” His jewel-like eyes roamed over the group.

“She isn’t feeling well?” Deuce repeated back to them. His bright eyes filled with concern. “I don’t want to force her to participate in the festival if she should be resting!” He exclaimed. “I’ll head inside and talk to mom about-”

But the rest of Deuce’s sentence would remain unheard. At that moment, Dylla and Yuu walked out of Deuce’s house. Yuu was dressed in a dark blue skirt that came up to her mid-upper thighs. She had on white thigh-highs and small black heels. Her shirt was a light blue, long sleeved v-neck, but it didn’t plunge too far down. Just enough to make Deuce curious as to what was underneath…

Dylla had curled her hair, causing it to bounce with every step she took. Deuce felt his breath catch in his throat as she walked towards them. He had always thought she was beautiful, but this was a side to her that he rarely got to see. There was something about seeing a part of her that he didn’t get to see every day that excited him. When he was walking the group around town earlier, he had to break eye contact with her for fear that he would start blushing. And when Layla started acting overly familiar with him, he was worried Yuu may have gotten the wrong idea. 

“Well, boys.” Dylla said, throwing her arms out in a dramatic gesture to Yuu. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Dylla’s eyes met Deuce’s for just a moment. Deuce felt his cheeks start to heat up. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted his mom with the details of his crush. Now she was going over the top to try and get him to make his move. Especially since it appears Dylla more than approves of her. 

“You look wonderful!” Ortho said, floating over to her and around her for the 360 view. 

“Yes.” Silver agreed, a gentle smile on his face. A gentle smile that Deuce didn’t miss. He felt something in the pit of his stomach. Something he didn’t like. Something that made him want to pull Silver as far away from Yuu as possible.

“Thank you.” Yuu said, a shy smile on her face. She felt her heart sink slightly at the fact that Deuce hadn’t complimented her though. Dylla looked at her for just a moment, but it didn’t take long for her to realize that her shy smile didn’t seem to reach her eyes.

Dylla’s eyes met her son’s. He just knew what she was about to do, and he couldn’t figure out a way to stop her without literally tackling her to the ground. His heartbeat started to increase, his mind already running everything he could possibly say that would placate his mother, without totally giving away his feelings for Yuu.

“Deuce,” Dylla said, her stern gaze holding his. “I don’t think we heard your opinion on Yuu’s outfit.” 

Deuce could practically hear her shouting ‘now’s your chance!’

His mouth seemed to dry out. He could swear there was something stuck in his throat, it wasn’t going to let him speak. His heart was beating loudly. He had to find something that was sweet, but not creepily so. Why would his mom put him on the spot like this? It wasn’t doing him any favors. He just needed to squeeze anything out of his throat. Any words will do. Just something basic.

“You look… beautiful.” He managed to sputter out, only to mentally slap himself immediately afterwards. That was maybe a little too much.

“Deuce Spade’s vitals have-” Ortho began to say, but Epel came to the rescue. He pulled Ortho away saying something about a food Ortho just had to take a picture of. 

“Uh, um, I mean-” Why was everyone staring at him?! Couldn’t they all just mind their own business?!

Yuu was looking at him dumbfounded. Her cheeks were quickly turning pink. His were already bright red. Deuce couldn’t stand all of the stares on him anymore. He quickly marched up to Yuu and grabbed her hand, yanking her away from Dylla. Dylla looked momentarily shocked, but quickly schooled her expression. She crossed her arms as she watched Deuce stomp off with Yuu in tow.

“Well guys, how about some sandwiches for now?” She offered to the remaining Night Raven College crew.

“Deuce?” Yuu finally managed to mutter out as he pulled her along. He had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that he didn't want to stay there with everyone’s eyes on him any longer. And Why did he grab Yuu? Well… he had no idea. He just wanted to be with her too, despite how embarrassed he was.

“Deuce? What’s wrong?” She tried to talk to him. Her eyes were only met with the back of his head as he continued to lead her to who-knows-where. His navy hair was bouncing with every step he took. And despite how angry he seemed, his grip on her wrist was so gently she barely felt it. She could have pulled away at any point. She was simply following him out of loyalty.

“Sorry.” He finally muttered. He had finally stopped moving, but still didn’t turn around to meet her gaze. “I- I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean it?” Yuu asked, her voice small. Deuce could hear the sadness laced in her voice and he quickly turned around to face her. Her large eyes stared at him and he could have sworn in looked like she might cry.

“What? No!” Deuce said quickly, panic lacing his voice. “Wait- I mean yes! Yes I meant it!” In his moment of dismay, he had gotten within inches of her face. “I meant, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He finally breathed out, his hands on Yuu’s shoulders as he tried to make everything make sense. 

“Deuucccceeee!” Came that voice again. That sickeningly sweet voice. Yuu could have sworn she saw annoyance flash in Deuce’s eyes, but he took a breath and straightened up. He turned to where her voice had come from.

“Layla.” He said, though Yuu was sure his voice was laced with irritation. “What’s up?” He asked her, having managed to cool himself a little bit. Yuu phased out their voices as they continued to chat. She would catch Layla twirling her hair throughout their conversation, never once looking at Yuu, let alone speaking to her. Did Yuu get the wrong idea when Deuce told her she looked beautiful? He said he meant it, but maybe he was lying? The more she thought about it, the more she realized that made sense. He had said he didn’t mean it, and only took it back when Yuu was visibly upset. She felt like she could cry.

“Yuu? Yuuuuuuuuu?” Deuce’s voice shook her out of her thoughts. She blinked her eyes, forcing back any tears that may have come to the surface.

“Yes? What?” Yuu said quickly, her eyes meeting Deuce’s bright ones. She hadn’t noticed until this moment that Layla had left. Deuce bent down slightly, putting himself at eye level (and very close!) with Yuu.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, his gaze searching hers for an answer. 

“Hm? Yes.” Yuu said, trying to assure him. “Sorry, I kind of spaced out there.” She said, putting a smile on her face. But Deuce knew something else was going on with her. She hadn’t been herself since they had gotten to his hometown. And she seemed especially weird when Layla was around. He gently wrapped her hand in his, a thought popping into his mind.

A crazy thought. An insane thought. A thought he wouldn’t have dared have before this trip. Was Yuu…. jealous of Layla? But if she was, then that meant she had feelings for him, right? Him-Deuce. Not Silver and his gentle, handsome smile.

“Do you…” He started to ask, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to finish the question. What if her answer was no? He wasn’t sure he could recover from that. Yuu tilted her head in confusion.

“Do I…?” She questioned, trying to convince him to finish his question.

“How do you feel about Layla?” He asked her, deciding the fear of straight rejection was too terrifying. So he reworded his question. Something that he regretted almost instantly as Yuu turned her eyes away from him.

“She’s fine.” Yuu said simply, shrugging her shoulders as her heart sank into her chest. “I think we should get back to the others.” She started to turn away from Deuce, but Deuce pulled lightly on their joint hands. That small action threw Yuu off balance, and she collided into his chest. Deuce immediately wrapped his arms around her, not allowing her to escape.

“Deuce, we really should-” Yuu tried to tell him. 

“That’s not what I meant to ask.” Deuce said quickly. “Not how you feel about her.” Yuu tensed in his arms, but he still refused to let go. “I wanted to ask if  you felt jealous of her, but I don’t want to ask you that anymore.” 

He pulled away from Yuu just enough to use his fingertips to tilt her chin up. Her cheeks glowed pink as their gaze met. Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest at any moment. She was terrified Deuce could hear it, or that she wouldn’t be able to hear Deuce over it.

Deuce had to force himself to hold her gaze. He really hoped he was right about this. There would be no going back after this, but he was pretty sure he had read the signs correctly. Besides, his mom was encouraging him. She wouldn’t lead him astray like that.

“So, um.” Yuu said, they were so close her breath brushed his lips as she spoke. “What do you want to ask me then?”

“Nothing.” Deuce said, steeling himself. He leaned his forehead against hers, should he be able to feel his blood running through his veins like this? Was he having a heart attack? A medical emergency? Well it was going to have to wait. This is more important. All he asked for was enough time to do this, and then he would die happily.

He tilted his face, ever so slightly. Their lips lightly brushed together before he pulled away. He opened his eyes slightly, just enough to see that her eyes were still closed, as if she expected more. And that was good enough for him. 

She bit her lip.

Deuce couldn’t take any more. He looped his arm around her waist, threading his other hand into her hair. He crashed his lips to hers. She reached her hands up to his chest, gripping his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer. Deuce wasn’t sure he would ever be able to pull away. If he suffocated doing this, then so be it. He clumsily brushed his tongue against her bottom lip. He felt her hesitantly part her lips, and he gently explored her mouth.

A scoff in a familiar, no-longer-so-sickeningly-sweet voice quickly reminded them that they were in public.

[aestheticpearl]

— can’t catch me now

[𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫] xanthus claiborne

a/n: just a heads up this is not written like my usual fan fictions <3

a cold numbness spreads through xanthus’ body as he watches the scene in front of him unfold. the lifeless body of his lover lays on the floor in front of him. their blood pools around them as xanthus looks up to the assailant with eyes that pierce through their soul. what happens next xanthus can barely remember, the room is flooded with painful screams as they plead for mercy but in the end he now stands over two bodies, covered in blood that is not his. the warmth of his lover has faded and is now only a distant memory. he cradles their corpse in his arms and lets out a wail of grief he didn’t know he had in him.

the next few years tick by agonizingly. the empty feeling hasn’t left him since that faithful day. the hole that his lover left feels as though it grows deeper with each passing month. he sees them everywhere in the little things humans do that resemble them when they were still among the living. it’s always the smallest thing, like the way someone in the distances laughs or a passing smell of a perfume/cologne they had used. their presence lingers in xanthus’ mind always, they’re stuck in his memory.

every person he feeds from leaves a sour taste in his mouth, for in his mind it is not the same. he is drinking to live but before he was once drinking because he loved. each taste is bittersweet and unfamiliar.

‘it’s not fair.’

xanthus thinks to himself as he stares down at passed out body of his latest victim. he wonders why he wasn’t strong enough to defend the love of his painfully immortal life. every waking moment he exists, he is haunted by the ghost of what could’ve been.

xanthus drowns himself in sleepless nights with nameless people trying to feel what he felt before but to no avail. the emptiness is never filled, he remains hollow and feels like a half of him is missing, the better half of him.

unfinished paintings litter the floor of xanthus’ home, all portraits of his deceased lover and each one is painted slightly differently then the one before it. the details of their face are fading in the memory that xanthus was once so proud of. it hurts to slowly forget someone that he once loved. he regrets not taking more photos over them when he had the chance.

he picks up a blank canvas and his brushes to begin on another painting of the face that he once kissed with his own lips. he starts painting the only face of yours that his burned in his memory, unfortunately for him it’s a face that wasn’t living. after only a few hours he stands back from his work and lets his eyes drink in what he has created.

if no one knew the story behind the painting they might say it’s the most beautiful piece they’ve ever seen, but xanthus refuses to let anyone other than him see the worst image he has in his memory. he knows that only he should be the one to live with the pain, since he believes it is his fault for the death of his partner.

hot tears stream down his face as xanthus bares his teeth in anger. he throws the painting across the room in a fit of rage and collapses on the floor in a broken mess.

‘they are gone because i wasn’t fast enough. i was careless.’

the painting lays broken in a mess across from an open window, the draft it creates carries the smell of fresh paint throughout the large building. the moon’s glow floods the rooms and creates a makeshift spotlight on the destroyed painting, which draws xanthus’ attention away from his pity party.

the wet paint glistens in the pale moonlight until a shadow appears on the windowsill, the shadow of a small bird. xanthus looks at it quizzically and carefully shifts to move closer, worried that the bird might flee at the sudden movement, but it doesn’t. the bird remains on the sill even as xanthus looks over it, in fact it even looks up at him to chirp happily.

without even realizing xanthus extends his finger for the bird to perch itself on and it does so with hesitation. he’s confused about this little fearless bird, birds are the definition of fight or flight and yet this one chooses neither.

‘could it be?’

xanthus’ mind fills with delusional hope for in the back of his mind he knows it couldn’t be possible, yet he has no idea why this bird is not afraid; maybe it’s because they never were.

the bird chirps once more almost as if to say goodbye before flying back out of the open window. the moon shines off its wings and xanthus watches as it goes. maybe someday he’ll be with you again, flying together above the trees in the moonlight.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

i get so many requests about the listener dying so i was like i wonder what xanthus would do with himself after?

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[sleepyfan-blog]

Beans with Baphomet

Author’s Note: Thank you to @Undeaddream for letting me borrow Tiny and Almach and @plagueparchments for allowing me to borrow Baphomet! This is the next part of the Raised On Terra AU! First. Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @sharenadraculea @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan 

Warnings: swearing around infants, ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed something

Summary: Baphomet tries to introduce a New Food to two of her charges.

“Bah! Bah!” Three called out, having managed to grab one side of his bassinet with his hilariously tiny fingers and pull himself upright. One small hand was still gripping the side of his crib, the other was reaching up to her.

Baphomet smiled a little as she took three more steps, closing the distance between where she had been standing and one of her three charges. “Hey little buddy. You hungry? Or just want a cuddle?” This…Babysitting duty was not one she’d ever expected to take on, but all three of her charges were adorable little ones.

His lavender eyes were staring holes into her soul “Bah! Bah!” and waved his hand impatiently.

“I wonder… Are you trying to say up? Or my name, which is Baphomet?” The Custodes coos as she carefully picks him up with one hand, supporting his head and back with one hand. “You’re still tiny, even if you are growing steadily.”

Fifteen’s mind was already lightly tugging on hers, the impatient demand to be held also clearly being sent to her. Fifteen was silently kicking at the side of his bassinet and pouting up at her with mismatched eyes.

“Ah… I see we are practicing our Biomancy skills today, little buddy.” She hummed, shifting her hold on Three so that she could safely pick up fifteen as well, broadcasting the care and fondness she felt for the both of them at each of the infant primarchs in her arms.

Three giggled and clapped his hands, wriggling delightedly as he leaned into her arm.

Fifteen cooed and clumsily sent to him the gnawing hunger he felt in his belly.

Baphomet chuckled, pressing a kiss to Fifteen’s bright red forehead “You got it buddy, snack time. But I need you both to be quiet, because most of your brothers are asleep, including Nine. Who is always hungry when he first wakes up and I don’t have enough arms for the three of you.” She placed Fifteen and Three in two of the baby slings she was carrying, giving them both gentle kisses to the forehead to keep them from fussing.

The Custodian made her way over to where the food for the infant primarchs was placed within their room, opening the cold storage section with one foot. Using her psychic abilities, Baphomet grabbed two bottles of formula - which she set in the warmer to begin heating up - as well as a small container of the blended bean and legume paste, which was both fortified with additional nutrients and calories to try and introduce the pair of infant primarchs to a new food. While all of the little ones were still avid drinkers of the heavily fortified formula they were consuming, six months had passed, and they’d been instructed to begin to slowly introduce other kinds of foods to the little ones.

She warmed up the legume and beans paste as well, making sure to grab a couple of spoons. And their bottles of formula. Baphomet then settled down on one of the very comfortable chairs meant for the caretakers and fed Three and Fifteen with about a third of their bottles of formula before scooping up the bean mixture onto a spoon and murmured “Come on, little one. Time for something new.”

Three stared down at the brownish-green mixture, a decidedly unimpressed frown appearing on his adorable little face and he turned his head away from it. “Meh!” He tried to reach for his bottle “Bah! Baaaah…”

“You’ve got to try it first. Come on, it’s good for you…” Baphomet tried to cajole ,bringing the spoon up to Three’s mouth, gently touching the paste to his lips to get him to lick on instinct.

Three tried to lean away from her, rubbing his lips with a tiny hand and trying to snack the spook away from him “Bah! AH! Ahhhh!”

“Aww, come on, little one. There’s no need to be like that. Heeere comes the thunderhawk! Brrrrrr…. It’s yummy I promise! See, I’ll eat a little.” Baphomet cajoled, taking a tiny taste of the bean and lentil mixture. It didn’t taste like much, but that was deliberately done, so as to not overwhelm tiny palates. “Mmm… Sooo Tasty…See, your brother is eating his spoonful like a good boy.”

Indeed, Fifteen had grabbed at the spoonful of baby food with his hands and was industriously gnawing on it. He’d even gotten some of the food in his mouth, though more of it was smeared across his face. Fifteen squeaked and brought a hand up to his face, rubbing at the bean-mixture on it.

He pulled his hand away and stared at the paste on his fingertips before shoving his hand in his mouth, giggling in delight. 

“See! He likes the bean paste, so come on… One bite, please?” Baphomet coos, bringing Three the spoonful of beans and legumes paste up to his mouth. “Come on you adorable little shit, eat the bean mush. It’s good for you.”

Three pouted up at her before opening his mouth, revealing -

“You’re starting to grow teeth! What about you, buddy?” Baphomet asks, delighted to see that at least one of the infant primarchs she was taking care of had reached this benchmark She looked at Fifteen - who had managed to use his budding psychic powers to drag the glass container of baby food within arm’s reach and was alternating between shoving mouthfuls of the foodstuff in his mouth, and covering his face and hair with it. “Oh… Oh no. I suppose that’s why I shouldn’t try and feed more than one of you at once. You know you’re going to get a bath, right? I can’t leave you covered in beans. Almach and Tiny would both whisper-yell at me about it. You look ridiculous.” 

Baphomet heard more baby giggles and turned back to Three, who had decided that the bean paste was actually yummy. He’d eaten everything off of the offered spoon and was trying to grab the jar of paste.

Fifteen wasn’t having any of that, though and his eyes were glowing with the eldritch light of the warp, trying to keep the jar out of his brother’s grasp “Baah!”

“Oh no. I have fucked up.” Baphomet murmured to herself as she grabbed the floating jar of baby food “Hey now, there’s plenty for each of you. There’s no need to fight over it.”

Three grunted unhappily as he was robbed of his prize, which had been just barely out of his reach.

Fifteen started to sniffle, his eyes huge and wet as he tried to pull the jar of legume paste out of her grasp with his psychic powers.

Baphomet snorted in amusement, lightly tapping him on the forehead “Stop that. You’re nowhere near old enough to win in a battle of wills against me, tiny fucker.” She set down the bean paste and pulled out some cleaning wipes, trying to get some of the pasty-clumps out of his thick mane of hair. “This is going to be such a pain to clean if it dries in your hair. I’m glad that you like the new food, but fuck. It’s like you tried bathing in i-”

Crash!

The sound of glass on carpeted flooring stopped Baphomet from continuing her gentle scolding of the mischievous infant primarch.

She swiftly turned around, to find Three sniffle once, twice before bursting into tears as he tried to cuddle into her. 

“Shit shit shit, what was that?” Baphomet demanded as she looked Three over for any injuries that he might somehow have gotten. She didn’t see any marks, cuts or bruises. Where had the-

Ohhhh… Baphomet looked down, spotting the now broken jar of blended beans and legumes. “… Little one did you try to grab the jar?” She asked, sighing a little. While most baseline infant humans didn’t have the strength nor the coordination to grab jars of that size, the little Primarchs were much stronger and more than one of them had caused this sort of accident before. “I know, the noise was loud and scary, but it’s okay, little one. No harm done. You’re safe. I’m safe, your brother is fine. All of them. Scared the fuck out of me, though.” Shit, she wasn’t supposed to swear around the little primarchs. “... Don’t say naughty words until you’re at least as big as me… Will you ever get as big as me? Hmm…”

She picked up the bean-splattered infant and rocked him close to her chest, giving him the occasional reassuring kiss on the forehead. Baphomet still wasn’t sure why Valdor had picked her of all Custodes to help raise and protect the infant primarchs while they were so tiny and fragile, but… Damn it, she really was trying her best here.

As she had expected, both Tiny - the martian tech priest who somehow had the most experience raising humans during this life stage - and the Blank, Almach had arrived first, having heard the crash.

Almach was first through the door, a worried scowl on his face “What happened?”

“Three and Fifteen are hungry. I was trying to introduce one of the new foods to the two of them and they started to fight over the jar. They dropped it before I could catch it, and it broke upon hitting the floor. No one’s hurt, though both are startled.” Baphomet explained dutifully.

Tiny crawled its’ way out of the vents, scuttling along the wall and over to where the glass and food was, swiftly cleaning it up, beeping and clicking rapidly at her. 

Baphomet rolled her eyes, not knowing exactly what it was saying, though she understood the scolding tone “Yeah yeah. I am trying to be careful! Which is why I only have one of the psychic primarchs out during feeding time, rather than both of them. Mouthy techno-bastard!”

Nine was - for the most part - a fairly agreeable baby. He hardly ever cried or fussed when he wasn’t trapped in a vision-fueled nightmare because of his nascent prescience, but Nine was ferocious when it came to feeding time. He was also one of the four primarchs - five with Three - with at least one tooth growing in. And all two and a half teeth Nine had were very sharp and he got bitey when he was hungry.

It did not matter who he bit, either. Whether the unfortunate soul be a caretaker, one of his brothers, a beloved stuffed toy, or during one memorable (and totally not terrifying memory, thank you very much) occasion, his creator and Lord.

Thankfully, the Emperor of Mankind had merely laughed as he gently pet Nine’s downy-soft fledgling feathers and dark, curly hair, saying “He’s quite fierce. Good he will need that in the many battles to come.” The Emperor had even let Nine gnaw on his hand for several minutes before gently detaching the growling baby from one of his fingers and leaving the room.

That had been a little over a week ago, and Baphomet would never admit to having nightmares about how poorly that encounter could have gone, had He not been in such a good mood. 

“Would you like a hand?” Almach asked, already walking over to where she was sitting, reaching for Fifteen, who was comprehensively covered in beans and legumes. The Blank was surprisingly pushy when it came to the caring of the infant Primarchs, and would take over care of others’ charges if he felt it necessary.

“I’m fine, though - hey! TIny get back here with Three! I can handle my charges, you fucker! They just… Got the better of me. Fifteen’s a psyker, I’m not sure how well he’ll react to you touching him, Pariah.” Baphomet reminded the Blank, holding the bean-covered baby close to her chest as she stood up, trying to chase after the tech priest, who was clicking away at her as he scuttled up the wall and into the vents, again.

Damn it. She knew that Tiny was an excellent caretaker and would be back at some point with a well-cleaned Three. It was just going to be a pain in the ass to try and convince it to let her hold Three for the next few days, the territorial bastard. Tiny had also made off with three’s formula bottle which meant they planned on being Vanished with the baby for Some Time.

“Nine is waking up, would… Wait he’s also a Psyker, isn’t he?” Almach hummed, a sad expression briefly flashing across his face. 

“He sure is. He’s got future sight, Eight too. From what I can tell they only happen when the kiddos are sleeping but that might change as they get older.” Baphomet answered, shrugging a little. Baseline seers were very rare, but she was keenly aware of the fact that the Primarchs had been hand-crafted to be… Many things. Extraordinary and highly gifted were two of those things. “If you’d get the baby bath started, I’d be grateful.”

Almach nodded “I’m always happy to help care for the young ones… Have you heard anything about the Names issue?” 

Tiny skittered down the wall, using an arm to acquire Nine before Baphomet or Almach could do or say anything. The Custodes heaved a sigh as the Blank laughed a little. 

Baphomet shook his head “I’ve asked Valdor about the issue. He’s said that His Majesty is still pondering what to name them, or if he’d allow us to give them childhood names to refer to them until they earn their adult names.”

“... And that doesn’t bother you?” Almach asked, squinting a little up at her.

Baphomet shrugs a little “We Custodes are given names as we earn them. I’m not surprised if that would be the same for Primarchs. Both us and them were hand-crafted by the Emperor Himself for specific purposes. Those purposes are different, but not so different as many of the Golden Host would like to believe. I do have some ideas for names mine have earned already”

“... I suppose that makes sense. I’ve got the bath ready.” Almach answers, a thoughtful if… Sad expression on his face. “What… What names have you come up with?” He looks at her in askance. 

Rude bastard. Time to redirect him. “Five’s about to wake up from the fuss. You should probably help him get back to sleep.” Baphomet informed Almach, sensing the change in alertness in the fussy infant primarch. Five could be very loud when he wanted to be. “For Fifteen… I was thinking of  either  shape-shifter or copy-cat. Three has earned the name Bean-Vanquisher, and Nine is Bitey.”

The Blank nodded and headed off to go soothe one of his charges. He threw over his shoulder “I”m… Not sure those would be good names to use for them…. Ma’am.”

Baphomet carefully bathed a very squirmy Fifteen. He kept trying to grab the bubbles, the soap, and the soft cloth that she was using to get him clean. “Yeah, yeah. Says you. I think they’re great kiddie names. What do you think, copy-cat?”

Fifteen giggled and chased after a bubble, his eyes still shifting slowly between colors. He squeaked when the bubble he caught popped.

“Maybe I should call you bubble-killer instead? Bubble Killer, the fierce psyker-primarch of the Imperium of Man.” Baphomet mused as she carefully washed the bean-paste of of the infant’s hair. She smiled fondly at the little brat, making sure he was fully un-beaned before taking him out of the bath and carefully patting him dry.

Baby skin was very delicate, even a Primarch’s. She’d learned that the hard way. Once Fifteen was dried, she swaddled him in a fresh blanket. “Look at you. All tiny and squishy and adorable. I never understood what cute-aggression was, until I started caring for you little fuckers.” She wanted to bite his chubby cheeks for several maddening seconds. Not that she was going to say that out loud. Almach already didn’t like Apollo very well. No need to go making enemies among the caretaking team.

Fifteen laid his head against her chest, one thumb in his mouth as his eyes slowly closed, a happy sigh leaving him as he settled in for a nap.

Baphomet huffed softly “Oh, I see. Is it naptime, after all the mischief? I suppose. But you can’t sleep on me, squirt. His Majesty has told us not to…” Even though his little mind was radiating sleepiness at her, she could resist if she didn’t hold him long. She walked over to his crib, gently setting him in it once she was sure that he was asleep. 

[knightofpisces]

"love is the beauty of the soul"

tfem!thoma x ayato

in which thoma has always longed for something he's never been allowed to indulge, and ayato is the one to heal his battered heart.

. . . hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, transphobia

Thoma wanted to be beautiful from the day he was born.

He was born to be beautiful, actually. Thoma was born the prettiest little boy the small Mondstadtian town had ever seen. Really, he was the local miracle–a little bundle of joy and with bright green eyes that made your heart stop. When he looked at you, you were blessed. When he smiled at you, all your troubles went away. Everyone wanted a chance to see the little blonde missile, whose tiny feet stumbled wildly through the tall grasses of Windrise, chasing after crystalflies and Barbatos knows what else.

The day he got his first haircut, he cried. Oh, he cried and cried. He looked in the mirror and positively broke down into tiny little sobs, blubbering about how he couldn’t be the princess anymore when he played knights with his friends in the square. Thoma’s father, on the other hand, said ‘good riddance’ to that and never let him grow it out again. No son of his would be parading around as some damsel in distress. 

All Thoma could remember was running all the way up to the chapel with some clippings of his hair and breaking down in front of Barbatos’ statue until Diluc came skidding around the corner. He nearly lost his bearings. Diluc was one of the older boys he was friends with, his senior only by a year or two, and they usually played knights with his little brother, Kaeya.

Diluc knelt by his side for a few minutes, trying to make sense of things before Thoma forced his words out through itty bitty hiccups and gasps. Diluc still couldn’t seem to understand what the younger boy’s fit was about. 

“I think that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Diluc asked honestly. “You don’t have to be the princess anymore.”

Thoma just stood up quietly, brushed himself off, wiped his eyes, and left. His own strands of hair fell loose from his palm, drifting gently into the wind. He would never forget those words. If Diluc and his father said it, then they were probably right. He didn’t have to be the princess anymore, and that was a good thing.

It was a good thing, so why did it make him so sad? Why did it crush his little heart? Was it so wrong to want to be the princess?

It was, and Thoma wouldn’t indulge himself like that again for a long time to come. 

The blonde grew older, and as he did, so did his beauty. Women swooned, as did men, and the steps outside his front door were always filled with gifts of love, much to his parents’ dismay. He would always be the town’s little miracle, even as the times seemed to change, even more so when tensions between his mother and father grew tumultuous. 

Their split happened on a normal Tuesday, Thoma holed up in his room sorting herbs from his satchel, planning to go sell them at the market, when his father mounted the stairs. A few simple words, as if he were merely announcing tonight’s dinner plans, and that was that. He was leaving. He was taking his things and returning to Inazuma in a week, and Thoma was to stay home with his mother. 

Thoma asked why, of course. He stood up and stumbled down the stairs after him just to try and wrap his head around what the hell was happening. He was barely a teenager, after all. What was he expected to do when the man of the house left?

“Why not take me?”

The words slipped out, and Thoma’s father only looked at him with contempt. 

“I will not live in a house with that woman, and I will not live in a house with a son who thinks he’s my daughter.”

The words utterly blindsided the poor, confused boy. A son who thinks he’s his daughter? Thoma just stood there frozen as his father turned on his heels and left.

But why?

How?

Thoma had been so-.. so good. So why was his father saying these awful things? Thoma wasn’t a girl, he would never be a girl, he would never want something like that. It was wrong, it was insulting, but why did it hurt his heart so much? Thoma really had been good. He hadn’t wished to be a princess in a long time. He dreamt about it, sure, he thought about it, but he would never want something so… utterly ridiculous.

Boys shouldn’t want to be girls.

Thoma didn’t want to be a girl.

So why would his father ever say that?

Why was it his fault as much as his mother’s?

Thoma thought about it for a long time. News traveled fast in the small town, and it was almost like the townspeople knew of his father’s departure before he did. The boy’s chest felt heavy for a long time, though his mother seemed to shine brighter than ever. It was like a side of her he’d never seen, one weightless and free from restraint. Thoma, on the other hand, tried to forget about it all. He was admired there, he had a life, he had his friends, he had his mother. Why would he dwell on something so baseless his father said in a fit of anger? Something so stupid? Just thinking about indulging himself–about being that beautiful princess–had driven his own family away. Why was it so wrong? Why was even just thinking about wanting something so taboo?

Thoma had washed himself up on an Inazuman beach trying to find answers. A wrecked rowboat, bloody face, spinning head, and it was some kind of blessing from the archons he’d made it there alive. It was definitely one of the lower points in his life; eyes bleary and burning with salt, breaths labored by his waterlogged chest. He barely made it halfway up the hill to Kamisato Estate before his vision went spotty and he passed out in the sand. 

Thus began a friendship with a kind man, one insistent on nursing him back to health, on finding his father, on satisfying his every need. And when he couldn’t do that, he offered him a job.

Kamisato Ayato was a kind man. He was a man in possession of the same kind of beauty Mondstadtian townspeople fussed over for years. He carried himself with grace, with vigor, and a certain type of kindness Thoma yearned to witness every day for the rest of his life. Over time, Kamisato Ayato made him feel… beautiful.

And beauty was a terrifying, terrifying thing. 

Whenever Ayato neared, he clammed up. He dismissed himself, made excuses not to see him, only cleaned and tidied his room when he knew the other was out on business. He went out of his way to avoid him every day for weeks until the Kamisato couldn’t stand it. Oh, he could strangle his housekeeper for being such a slippery little weasel. It was impossible to find him, even harder to pin him down, and it was driving the man insane. 

Thoma felt like he was being driven insane by Ayato in turn. Ayato spurred on awful thoughts that made him utterly restless; awful thoughts he could never, ever indulge himself in. Ayato made him feel pretty, made him feel safe, made him feel like some princess saved by her knight in shining armor, and it made his skin crawl. Thoma couldn’t choke back those thoughts when he was around the other man. He wanted to be pretty, wanted to be beautiful, wanted to be his gorgeous princess and never leave his side. All were thoughts that instilled him with fearful nausea. Every time they spoke he felt less and less self control.

Ayato couldn’t box Thoma in until he accidentally walked in on the housekeeper in one of Ayaka’s pretty dresses. Thoma hadn’t seen him at first. Ayato was standing frozen stiff in the doorway, and he couldn’t even will himself to breathe. The sight in front of him was so… gorgeous. The long, deep red dress was an uncharacteristic style for Ayaka, but it fit Thoma’s tall, slender frame so perfectly Ayato could cry. He wanted to say something, to reach out and touch, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He didn’t want to scare Thoma away before he inevitably spotted him watching like a creep. 

Thoma felt so at home in that dress. Every time he so sneakily put it on he felt like his heart was mended and stitched back into his chest. He just felt so… real, so pretty, and he hated himself for it more than anything. When he finally turned and saw Ayato standing there, it was like his entire world shattered. Oh, Archons, he wanted to lay down and die right at that moment. He felt defensive, like a caged animal, and he tried to stop himself from tearing up. Fuck, it was awful. He would be kicked out, wouldn’t he? Wearing his sister’s clothes and enjoying it like some freak? He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

Ayato saw his silent, pleading expression, and he couldn’t even think to feel bad about what he had seen. He just stepped forward, reached, rested his hand on Thoma’s shoulder, not even hesitating when he flinched back.

“You look beautiful.”

He said breathlessly; something Thoma would never forget, but this time for good reason.

Ayato spoke those words and his eyes shot up, searching his face for any hint of hatred, any signs of disgust or resentment. Nothing. None at all. Just… pure love, reverence, like he couldn’t believe the perfect sight in front of him. Thoma felt his shoulders slouch and his body slump forward, body instinctively relaxing like he knew Ayato would be there to catch him. He was. Ayato’s palm found his cheek, his other arm wrapping around his waist as he drew the other’s trembling body close.

“I mean it, Thoma. You’re the most breathtaking princess I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

The Kamisato whispered, and Thoma just broke. His face scrunched up like he was desperately trying to will something back before he leaned against him and broke down into teary sobs. Ayato made him feel so pretty. Ayato made him feel so seen and loved it hurt.

If Ayato was here holding him, whispering sweet nothings, kissing his head, holding his face, maybe it wasn’t so wrong. 

Maybe it was okay to be beautiful.

[jackalsinthekitchen]

pop report #8 (today's top hits, 9/24/24)

today's top twenty – short n' salty

A whole Brat Summer has come and gone since we last left off. I tumbled belatedly down Charli’s rabbit hole in January, when I was looking for something to flatter a high, and she ended up blowing my world apart. I’d slept on her a decade ago, when she was both sugar and spice – everything nice, really – in hits which have aged varying degrees of well. Yet her 2015 union with PC Music was what put the form to her urge to soundscape – unlike the DMT-addled Todd Rundgren of fifty years ago, of whom she’s a fan, she’s nothing if not collaborative. When I first played brat, besotted as any sane person would be by the effervescent “360”, I found its music too metallic and its melodies overly astringent. Mea culpa – now no less an authority than our next president [knock, knock] has validated her cultural primacy.

So you won’t catch me complaining anymore – it couldn’t have happened to a more visionary icon. But of course, the year belongs to neither Charli, nor the victor in the battle of the quarter-century (not talking about Beyoncé v. Swift, who I think it’s safe to say overdid themselves into a draw this time out). Armed with little more than a wand, a rabbit, and a kabuki-meets-Cyndi Lauper aesthetic, the Midwest Princess finally completed her year-long rise this fall. Meanwhile, in Chappell’s shadow, the Last Straight Femme has put a bow on a fascinating saga that kicked off with “Drivers License”, while Olivia takes sour selfies abroad. And the season of the sticks is long over, with the cabal of bros who once threatened to turn 2024 into the Year of the Dude proving one-hit wonders – or if not one, at least a lot less than F-1 trillion.

But the bro atop half of Today’s Top Hit, Bruno Mars, is a different breed altogether – like his duet partner, one L. Gaga, a star so massive he’s transcended this plane, if not the material world. The languidly soulful waltz “Die with a Smile” sounds to me like an AI dream about “Beautiful Things” being less annoying, and as with everything else America can’t stop listening to (including “Beautiful Things”), someday soon I’m sure I’ll love it. But it still turns on vocals which grind into sincerity, yielding more sawdust than sparks, and presumably won’t unite a wedding dancefloor like “Uptown Funk” or “Bad Romance” ages from now. I suppose each artist thought they had to remind us that they were alive, and forgive my cynicism that the song is doing so well on branding power alone (well, and maybe those outfits).

Tate McRae is another one who feels greedier for the public than vice versa, but it’s ok – “It’s ok I’m ok” is a bit more than OK, the rapid-fire rap hook and sudden wash of synth atmospherics disrupting its relative self-repetition. It's another one that promises to grow over a slow fade; I’d say pop hits are fading slower than ever, but really, it’s always been this way. It does boast some brevity, said to be the soul of something in limited currency – its brisk two and a half minutes feel closer to 75 seconds. Lasting as long is #3, a single about lingering, Short n’ Sweet (ha)’s attention-seizing opener “Taste”. Whereas Olivia’s overtures to authenticity made her so compelling, Sabrina leans into the prefab, and it’s fab every time, fam. Its throwback feel is one of its chiefest virtues – it’s a dead ringer for the Divinvyls, and who doesn't dig the Divinyvls?

The fun of Chappell Roan is which of her big hits you can’t escape at any given moment – only “Pink Pony Club”, which is basically a standard now, is falling behind the rest of the pack. #4 on today’s TTH is “Good Luck, Babe”, its chorus such a pristine flourish of frosting it’s always good for getting through, coming out or kissing off. It’s the first in a trio of queer victories down the list, followed by Charli’s zero-melody banger “Guess”, feat. Billie E, whose subsequently-slotted “Birds of a Feather” is to “we can’t be friends” (#21) as Sour is to Short n’ Sweet. Here’s a girl who writes like she earned both her Oscars. This sapphic streak goes up in flames with the Weeknd, a painfully-straight whose strongest hits sound super gay anyway. After The Idol, the flames are all he can dance in.

#s 8-12 are five stalwart inescapables – that me espresso, H-O-T-T-O-G-O, J.J. Abrams’ nepo baby keenly cornering the “wounded submissive with an acoustic guitar” half of the Taylor Swift market (her vocals softening Olivia’s bratty diction with Billie’s volume control – “I Love You, I’m Sorry”, not as good as “Risk” but still good), Hozier cornering the Adam Levine market (it’s not my aphrodisiac, but the sky still splits open at that wailing instrumental break), errybody in the bahr gittin’ tyup-seh. Then the crisp, honeyed “Apple”, one of a handful of excellent hooks (not to mention lyrics) I missed like a dumb bitch when I was being a brat about brat. Benson Boone’s “Slow it Down” (no one asked you to, BB) sounds extra hoary directly after – though yet again, he builds up to something more worth your while than you expect from the first minute.

Depending on how you look at it, no two bros need more or less help than Post Malone and Morgan Wallen. But for their stab at the song of the summer – per Billboard, it worked – six additional bros lent a hand (though, credit where due, one of them is named Ashley). “I Had Some Help” is solid, and as with all decent-plus generic pop hits gets better or worse depending on the weather in your town or head. Still, the main takeaway is that both men would love to be Sabrina Carpenter, if not Chappell Roan. Next in line is the only member of the Tortured Poets’ Department that doesn’t sound asleep, "I Can Do it With a Broken Heart", a missile aimed directly under Joe Alwyn’s skin – the same summer the latter decided it would be a canny career move to play a rapist in Yorgos Lanthimos’ hasty surrender of his newly-acquired feminist cred.

After Tommy “Temporarily” Richman’s programmatic percolator “Million Dollar Baby” – his album will be called Coyote, though he might’ve just as easily gone with I, Robot – comes a new one for the stomp-clappers Noah Kahan pulled out of the woodwork: Myles Smith’s “Stargazing”. Anyone who’s ever wondered what Chris Martin would sound like fronting Mumford & Sons will be free to turn their attention elsewhere. Then there’s an arresting little club-designed mystery I haven’t heard before – “Move”, by two white guys (Adam Port and Stryv) and a Black vocalist (Malachiii) gently cashing in on a bourgeoning Afrobeats bubble (on this hemisphere, anyway – it’s an embarrassment of riches on the other). It’s a big hit in Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Austria – shades of ABBA, who never crossed the color line in their lives.

I’d call #20 the secret song of the summer – while many of us are feeling hot to go and so Julia, there are still plenty of shitty vibes to go around, not to mention shitty men (this writer included). Justice doesn’t get more poetic than “Please Please Please” hitting the top in a surging crop of penis-pop. While Sabrina’s triumphs are often trifles, “Please” nails an almost unprecedented level of sexual-politics profundity without a speck of strain or waste (I’d be shocked if it featured more than three instruments). Sure, Olivia’s righteous rage always hits like a tonic, but something about Carpenter’s straight-to-the-point disappointment feels a great deal more potent. Imagine if Lesley Gore, not to mention Aretha Franklin, had had “I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker” at their disposal. Even then, neither would’ve delivered that last word with the same score-settling perfection. Morgan Wallen and Post Malone will always have some help. 2024’s pop queens don’t need any.

[dangerously-human]

3, 26, 50 for the writer ask game :)

Thank you for your patience, I know I took forever to answer all of these but this one took even longer because I decided to indulge myself with ALL the details and that was a time-consuming genuine delight. 😅

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I am a big fan of playing with metaphor and challenging myself with defined structure. Years ago, I wrote a Continuum fic (Still Here) with POV from every character in the story, with the swaps happening in a sort of chain based on who the characters interacted with - Dillon talks to Carlos, then we're in Carlos's POV until he thinks about Garza, then we're with Garza until she picks a fight with Emily, and so on - all looking at the same theme of how Kiera returning to her time left a hole that deeply affects everyone she left behind. Love giving myself a theme to work around, like chapters in developing relationship fic each based on a color of the rainbow. As is probably quite apparent, I enjoy writing "five times/things" fics and drabbles, and combining the two. Sometimes I go a step further and do the variations on a theme thing for five interconnected drabbles, like the Sparky five senses series. I like giving myself a challenge with fanfiction so it still feels like I'm growing my writing skills, even though a lot of things come easier than with original works.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

Easy, I write fics sans dialogue all the time. I do really enjoy dialogue and I think I've improved my ability to write it a lot, but introspection is still where I thrive.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Oh goodie, love this question! I'm going to answer 29: What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down]? Explain your choices if you want!

I never used to be the kind of writer who had separate playlists for individual projects (outside of the occasional original work), just one massive playlist for the fandom. It's been a fun way to focus on some of the more effort-heavy, long-term WIPs! Here's the one for the ring fic:

The Graduate - The Arcadian Wild: The bittersweetness of growing up and your perspective shifting so you see the world as it truly is, for better and worse simultaneously. "When you were younger, you dreamed of being tall, but you discovered growing up just leaves you feeling small" / "Failing is fruitful, so long as we do not forget to move" / "We are wandering through the wild, we are wondering when not if we'll reach the other side... When we were ever alone? Together we'll make our way home"

Anomaly - Angels & Airwaves: Lockwood crush angst! "I never wanted to say how much I liked you, I never wanted to be one of your sad discoveries" - not feeling worthy of Lucy

Dark Mirage - Matthew Parker, HIDDEN EYES: Lockwood struggling and Lucy feeling helpless. "I don't possess the power to drive off the darkness that's haunting you, I pray the truth gets louder" - Felt fitting for the wallowing portions of this fic, considering Lockwood vastly overestimates his negative effect on Lucy. Also like... this level of angst is exactly what Lockwood is terrified of inflicting on Lucy, it's not actually like this but he's worried it could be if he's not constantly on high alert (which is what Lucy tells him she's willing to do if he ever needs it)

Taxi Cab - Twenty One Pilots: Ooh, this one hits hard on so many Lockwood & Co levels. "I wanna fall inside your ghost and fill up every hole inside my mind, and I want everyone to know that I am half a soul divided" is just such a good way to showcase Lockwood's growth, from the soul divided being between life and death to being part of a whole (with Lucy). The repetition of "don't be afraid" throughout a lyrical story that is so Lockwood all over just. Argh, it's very very hard for me to put this one into words. Like how the "don't be afraid" could at first be giving up but then it's a promise not to. And it gets at the same idea as the books do with Lockwood as both Christ figure and the one saved ("and then I asked them, am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead? And then one turned around to say, we're driving toward the morning sun, where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone"). There's a lot of imagery here I associate with the Other Side and the return, and so I connect it with Lockwood sort of dying and, upon symbolic resurrection, choosing a new life that involves opening himself up to Lucy... Ugh, yeah, this one's harder to explain, it just means a LOT to me

Hot Tea - half•alive: Obsessed with this as Lockwood being pathetically in love, tbh ("Wanna be here ar your door 12am and sleeping on your porch until you get in, looking into your eyes endlessly, crawling into your lap desperately"), and "can't afford to lose you any longer" fits very well for the canon era chapter, but also just the warmth of belonging to each other ("Hold you in my hands like hot tea, knowing I'm safe 'cause you want me")? That is always the Locklyle vibe I'm going for, but especially in this fic. Also the line "sip you through my front teeth" makes me think of Lockwood and his blue whale thing, hahaha

Spiders - Bear's Den: I will eventually come back to write the spiders symbolism kidfic that slots in later in this series, which is the only reason I did not end up using these lyrics for this fic despite it fitting the vibe so well. (Love, I'm Trying had at least three WIPs competing to use it as a title for a while there.) But, yeah, the whole thing with spiders as indicative of a haunting lends extra power to this one in an L&Co context, with lines like "I can't take back all the hurt I've caused, everything I love I have somehow lost, it's four in the morning abd the spiders are crawling in my mind, replaying pictures of all I can't undo, love, I'm trying, but I can't oull myself when the darkness comes" - and that being when Lockwood has to learn to go to Lucy, because that's what they do for each other, they pull each other out when they can't do it alone

Rain Clouds - The Arcadian Wild: The growth! While usually I associate this song more with Lucy, it does still work for Lockwood and the guilt he carries, moving from "I'm being shadowed by my past, reminding me of what I was and what I could become" to a sort of conversation of "I need someone to be my guide, listen to my voice, close your frightened eyes, hide behind my love for you, fear's only a choice, one that we all must make someday"

BREAKFAST - half•alive: Chosen as the title source for good reason; this song is all about vulnerability and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and practicing embracing the safety of leaving your heart in someone else's hands - starting out feeling reluctant and even panicky at the idea of openness ("I fled to the walls, yeah, be sure I'm surrounded, where no one can find me") to fighting your instincts and opening up no matter how hard it is, and being met with the reassurance of being seen and loved in all your complexity ("say you're open through tears and trembling, it's a major step, it's okay to fret, here's a safe place to lay your heart down"), and the reminder that messing up doesn't mean you've broken the relationship irreparably ("it's a second chance, it won't be your last"), which is a message Lockwood really needs to hear from Lucy in this fic, as they repeat old patterns with new endings

Lifeline - Angels & Airwaves: The forgiveness and gentleness Lucy offers Lockwood - "We all make mistakes, here's your lifeline"

Your Burden is Mine - Sarah Sparks, Kenny Komatsu: The doing life together part, a reminder that it's pride that intereferes with letting love in - "Don't spare me from anything, your burden is mine" / "Careful, my brother, there on your own, for it is a fool who suffers alone, there's none self-sufficient, only those who try, so swallow your pride, your burden is mine"

TrusT - half•alive: Ooh, this song absolutely messes me up re: redemption, and also unchanging adoration/stability even in the midst of conflict. Lockwood needs to hear it from a romantic relationship perspective ("rest and know the love you hold won't be taken back, no, how sweet the taste of certainty, the gift you gave is safe with me"), but it hits hard for me from a Christian theology perspective - and isn't that just the surprise theme of this fic, the ways marriage is meant as an echo of Christ's love for his bride, the Church. Also fits really well for this in-between space they find themselves in as they have an answer for the Problem yet are still working on the solution ("the tug of war in the now-not-yet... can you tell me why I feel this way? I have faith that the world I'm in will be redeemed again, but there's a weight that I can't explain, so tell me why I feel this way"), which I think is a tension in the background of most of my work in this particular series

The Kitchen - Tow'rs: For the imagery of dancing together in the kitchen as a way of making amends after a fight - "You made me dance in the kitchen with you, if I was the night then you were the moon"

What Home Feels Like - The Afters: Gosh this song is so CUTE, and that is the Locklyle vibe! Just the idea of finding home and belonging with the person you love - "There is no place I'd rather be for the first time in my life, I know what home feels like" / "No, I never wanna leave, 'cause I've found where I belong, this is what home feels like"

Let's Get Married - Bleachers: This is THE love post-trauma song, and fits the warmth of 35 Portland Row so well along with Lucy and Lockwood promising to make it work even when it's crazy hard, because they recognize where they're a little broken but they also believe building a life together is worth it

[4seasonsofart]

Touch Me Once, My Sweet Death

(Goddess of Life Canute x God of Death Thorfinn)

Among the edges of Vahalla lie two domains that lie just out of reach of all nine realms. The realm of that which makes life and the realm of that which allows death. Both realms are infinitely close to intertwining with each other, yet they are fated to never do so. Life may never touch death, lest life rot, and death may never touch life, lest death become obsolete.

The celestial growth of all life is a haven that sprouts up new flora everywhere that life walks. An eternal, shining light cascading down onto the peaceful realm that warms all life It's vibrant and lively, in a way that cannot be described to mortals. It is unreachable to anyone, but life—not even death—may touch the surface of these sacred lands.

Crystalline lakes run through the valleys that grant anyone who bathes in them eternal youth. Life is eternal here, yet it slips away so quickly from mortals. The fauna here is plentiful, and they spend their days grazing on the thriving flora. There is no darkness here, no night, and there is no need to rest or sleep as life is always alive.

On the opposite of the nine realms lies what has been corrupted and corroded. Eternal darkness and damnation flow through rivers of eternal crimson blood. There is neither ground nor any flora or fauna. All that lies in the realm beyond life and all is an all-encompassing darkness. A long trail of blood and tortured souls sorrowfully weeped the cries of the afflicted. The stench of rot and the vile of mankind permeate throughout the void.

There is neither breath nor air, yet somehow the sounds of the damned and the screeches of the night terrors echo across. This is the place of the god's fear—where they will end when Ragnarök comes. No one in Vahalla speaks of the void or how its power grows every passing day. No one has truly ever seen death except life; for a fleeting moment, a connection was formed. For when life and death intertwine, everything will end, and Ragnarök shall have begun.

There's a gap between the realms of life and death in Muspelheim. A land of fire and destruction that will help fill the void during the last days of the gods The God of Death, Thorfinn, spends most of his time there. He walks right to the edge, right where Muspelheim ends and the scared lands of life begin. He never reaches out—well, he almost did once—and he regrets it dearly.

He yearns for Ragnarök; he yearns for life; he knows that there is no higher power than him, yet he still wishes that he wasn't Death. He remembers the time of the old gods. When he and life were intertwined. He promised Canute that he would never leave, and yet now they are separated by an eternal blazing fire. Their union will kill all and cause all to fall, and all Thorfinn is able to do is wait and yearn.

The Goddess of Life, his goddess, his love, shows at the end of his sacred lands. He adorns a simple silken white dress, although his aura appears more holy than any other divine being. His cascading blonde locks sparkle like the crystalline waters of youth that he bathes in. His eyes were created out of the same hue as the sky; they are endless and freeing. They never fail to take Thorfinn's breath away. He needs neither a crown nor intricate runic symbols. He is God. He is free. He is true and ultimately divine beauty.

Death, in that moment, wishes to hide away. His body is scarred with runic symbols of terror and destruction. His blonde locks are matted with the souls of the innocent and as dry as the heat of the crackling inferno in which he stands. Surtr makes no move against death; even he is in awe and reverence for the being that occupies his lands so often. Still, all Thorfinn is able to focus on is the black garb that hangs limply off of him. No better than the clothes a mortal slave would wear. A tattered tunic filled with holes and scorch marks, matching trousers that cover his feet. He wears only black combat boots, a gift from a damned soul.

He is unable to compare himself to how pristine and angelic Canute appears. Even his bare feet look as if they were sculpted by a force greater than either of them. He wears no clothing below his ankles, as life is always connected to the earth around him. His goddess, his life, his yearning—and he is only... no better appearing than one of the Jötunn.

Canute knows that he is not allowed to take another step forward, so he falls on his knees. Life's sky blue eyes grow duller for a moment as all of the flora around him slowly wilts. "Touch me once, my sweet Death. I beg of you. I have been deprived of your love for so long."

"Torture me not, my love." Thorfinn croaks out with a tortured vocal inflection as he falls to his knees. His body is consumed by the hellish inferno, and yet he still feels nothing—he is eternal. He is part of Ragnarök; he will cause the end of Canute. He may never touch him, lest he kill him. "I need you. When shall I love you again?"

"You have never stopped loving me. Touch me, please, my sweet Death." Canute begs with his harmonious cords as his hand so foolishly reaches out towards Thorfinn.

So tempting.

One inch away and his love shall embrace him.

"Thorfinn, please, I may die without you."

"You will die with me." Thorfinn shrieks the pain of his for once instead of being afflicted, even if it doesn't feel so. He doesn't want to be dead. He doesn't want to be immortal. He wants to be human. He wants to be human. He wants...

"Keep me close, my sweet Death." Canute speaks in the desperation of a mortal, begging for their life from their superior. Canute closes the gap and he embraces him after many millennia.

Death weeps, for life now rots in his arms. Canute keeps himself imprinted on Thorfinn. Life allows itself to play into Death's hands. He screams, he shouts, he shakes Canute, and he curses. Canute rots. His vibrancy is quickly fading, as life does in all nine realms.

"Stay strong, my sweet Death."

[fullusun]

(이해찬) ˖◌ 🐻🖥️ ꒱ 37.5 FULLSUN FM ♡ EPISODE 205 : "debunking you delulus bcs literally stfu it’s haejoo day!" 📼◌ 083124.◞⠀

[ ♡, dedicated to @hrtsjoo ] 🎙️ — STATUS : ON AIR NOW •

🎶͙ ֺ 𓂃 dun dun dun ! this week’s episode was long awaited.. crazy how summer flew over heads just like that, right sunnies? not only that happened, but a lot in general did too, no? since it’s the last day of august, i’m here to break something to all of you because some just.. can’t get it in their heads properly.

(gently laughs, shaking his head while rolling his eyes to the camera)

last summer was my most unexpected event in my life and a special someone came into my life… she’s— very. very. special to me. and today marks our first year together.. a whole year! so this episode marks it very special because..

(drum rolls with his hands on his lap)

i’m going to be talking about my top three favourite memories i’ve had with her, aaall from my perspective… since five seems too many— but i think three’s the perfect number.. do you guys have a favourite number? anyway, this episodes only for her so if you don’t like sap…

(smiles at the camera and points at the door before sticking his tongue out)

⊹ » number one — the conversation we had after our first kiss. in my mind, it felt like i was going crazy.. even if it was only for a few seconds when it happened. i guess that’s when it hit me that i realized you were all mine in that second and from then on, yknow? so much things went on in my head.. but i’m happy we talked about it, i like how we both weren’t scared since we knew eachother; and i mean really knew eachother.. the different smiles we have for each different types of happy, the way i can read your eyes with every mood you had- especially when to make a joke and when not to make a joke.. and when i need to make a joke—

(a smile grows while he talks and he takes a pause to look down at the paper on the desk to push it away)

it feels liberating to know someone and have them know me inside and out, our souls are so intertwined that it shocks me everytime, i bet they knew eachother in some other life, don’t you think? i swear joo, whenever you laugh it’s like you’re scaring all the bad thoughts away in my head. it’s one of my favourite things about you, also how when you smile you have to move your eyebrows up too.. and when your face goes blank, you look like a clueless kid and it makes me smile instead..

⊹ » number two — when you reassured me when i was at my lowest that whole time frame felt like i was being sucked into a black hole and it felt so bad.. it felt horrible to talk about these things even when it seemed so little. for some reason, it felt shaming to be myself and i let it get to me, it still doesn’t click with me how out of all people you chose me and you kept choosing me every single day joo. i think that was the time where i realized that i was truly, deeply in love with you.. i love you so dearly and you’re the most precious thing to me— i love how silly we get when things get hard and it lifts everything off my shoulders.. you’re so comfortable to be with, i don’t ever wanna go anywhere when i’m with you, but go more together in the future.. pfft- just me, you, milo and circe and maybe i know this for sure maybe, just a few plus ones or something..

(he covers his face while yelling into his hands while gulping down a laugh)

i’ll shut up on that part, maybe. jusssttt maybe. on the note of the last one though..

⊹ » number three — circe and milo playing in the snow ah yes, those days where you were getting the bag while i got locked in the basement for a few actions… eugh. i didn’t expect it on my bingo card either, but that happened! i kinda felt useless in that period too, but when i sent you the video of them tackling in snow and jumping around, all that stuff and see you look so fond of it, it made me realize how proud i felt for the both of us. we really were happy with eachother.. i saw it in the sparkle of your eyes and when and how you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that. you have no idea how much you mean to me in general and I would give anything and do everything to show you that any and everyday.. just look at how i'm going insane at ten pm in our living room while recording this?

(he looks away from the mic to look at the papers, smiling and chuckling to himself)

it's been an official three hundred and sixty-six days since we've officially been together and it's been the best thing in my life through the hectic things, especially lately joo.. thank you for all the lessons, the laughs, the smiles, the memories and the ones we'll make even more, your hand that holds mine and the heart i get to keep with me forever. same time again next year? aaand every other year? more cats? pfft.. i love you honey, more than anything and everything... don't tell mark!

🎶͙ ֺ 𓂃 dun dun dun ! 🎙️ — EPISODE 502 COMES TO AN END. •

🫂 ALSO THIS IS FOR AANI ♡ !!

boo! it's haejoo day and ... that's literally so freaking cool. like wdym we lasted this long and we've been friends for more than one year its so crazy aani like 😭 I just wanted to tell you that I genuinely love you and appreciate you so much ): we been through a lot together and its so amazing to see that you've been nothing but a real friend to me and you're so special to me, you really have no idea.. haejoo is one of the ships I hold so close to in my heart so I thank you for all the smiles and laughs and late nights you gave comfort too <3 I love u sm and I hope we keep this up :3 I LOVE YOU !! 🫵

[justanotherblogger]

★ Soul Searching ★ 1

(Oh, look! Another Tang au)

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

(TW some descriptions of throwing up, but it's very brief)

Sunlight shines onto Pisgy's early in the afternoon, bathing everything in a warm, cozy light. The sign outside is shown brightly to the busy streets.

The weathering on the door and outside counter gives it a homey look. Everything to the way the windows are opened just enough to let the smell of noodles out, to the chalk announcement board with swoopy letters making its charm.

Inside the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the sound of bubbling and the flickering lights above add to its atmosphere. The growing pile of to-go orders now shoved to the side so the chef can see the lobby.

Barely anyone is actually sitting in the restaurant. Just the chef in the back, with a green teenager and an older looking man with glasses sitting at the bar.

The chef seems to be fed up with the both of them. "Can't you two do something other than taking up valuable space while I'm working?!"

The man in the glasses just shrugs and smirks at the outburst, continuing to sip some noodles he grabbed from the ever growing to-go pile. "Pisgy, Pisgy, Pisgy. If we were to leave, who would give you such riveting conversation? And besides, we're patiently waiting for Mk to come back."

Pisgy just glares at the man before speaking up louder than the first time. "Mei is waiting for Mk to come back." Pisgy gesture with a wooden spoon to Mei, who's looking at her phone with an unserious expression.

The man with glasses just raises a brow in response. Pisgy sighs heavily before continuing his rant. "And heck, so am I! He's left so many orders here, I could probably afford to fire him if I sold 'em all myself!

"Now what are you even doing? Mooching off of Mk's generosity for free noodles, and just sitting in front of me with a smug look on your face like I'm an idiot, which I'm not! Your so lucky I don't kick you out any time you set foot in here Tang."

Tang just laughs in response, spilling some sauce onto the ground as he readjusts his glasses to look at Pisgy. "Oh please Pisgy, you know you love me~" He said in a jaunty tone, smirk never falling. "If you didn't, I would've been in the hospital by now! Probably with a wooden spoon lodged in my head."

Tang continues to chuckle, with Mei joining in soon after Pisgy stomps off back to the kitchen, grumbling up a storm.

"He's always so grumpy! Maybe he's a bit more ticked today because Mk 'ain't back yet for all those orders." Mei says to Tang absent-mindedly, eyes focused on her screen as she slouches on her stool.

Tang huffed, amused. "Hah, maybe. I just think he has his apron in a twist all the time." He giggles at his own joke before pulling a stained and well-worn book off the counter.

"Journey to the West ", a classic in Tangs' personal opinion. He immeadietly flips the long time annotated pages to a specific bookmark, stopping right on top of a bright red post-it note.

Most of his scribbles were how inaccurate some of the legends were, how the stories were twisted to be seen in a good light for an easier consumption, Tang guesses. It hurt him to see so many people enjoy these fake stories, but at least he knew most of the truth.

However, there were parts that were kept somewhat accurate. Those were the ones Tang liked to reread the most, ones marked with bright red, from the only version available in metrapolis.

1, 2, 3.

4 red post-its fly past his vision as he takes in the legends, smirking at some passages before the next page was turned.

An hour had passed if Tang had to guess. The pile stopped growing after Pisgy gave up on Mk coming back in time. He's now sitting next to Tang on the bar, with Mei sitting at one of the nearby tables, seemingly still scrolling on her phone.

Tang had been working on his fifth bowl of to-go noodles when the ground started to rumble violently. It shook everything in the shop; things like chairs toppled over and loose kitchenware fell to the floor.

Mei screamed as her phone flew out of her hands and onto the table, Pisgy tried to stabilize himself on the counter while swearing up a storm, and Tang held up his bowl so nothing spilled out, one hand on the bowl the other holding on the counter for dear life.

It finally subsides after a couple of seconds, leaving the shop in disarray. "What the heck was that?!" Pisgy shouted as he righted himself back onto a bar stool.

"Ugh, I don't know, piggy. That was definitely stronger than a mega street race or an out-of-control party at the anti-gravity arcade." Mei answered as she sprawled across the table to take back her now cracked phone. She let out a small Aww, man! afterwards.

Tang had been gasping the entire time, seemingly trying to regain lost breath from the mysterious earthquake. "I don't know how *huff* you guys recover *huff* so quickly like that! Phew. It took all my strength just to save these precious noodles!" Tabg held up the bowl as some sort of proof, with half its contents missing.

"Maybe that's just because you're old, Tang." Mei smirked at him. Tang just scoffed after her with Pisgy giving an amused huff in the background.

Tang put his bowl of noodles back onto the counter before bending down to retrieve his book. It had a few noodle stains, but it's been through much worse than that. It isn't that bad.

Just as Tang sat back onto his stool, the restaurant doors burst open with a winded Mk in the middle of them.

"Mk! Where have you been? We've been stacked through the roof with noodles that were ordered ages ago! Our customers have already given ZERO STARS Mk!" Pisgy said, grabbing Mk by the ear and sitting him down across from him at one of the tables.

"Now you better have a good reason for this, or else I'm cutting your pay for a month with full work hours."

Mk seemed to go through a mix of sheepishness, awe, confusion, and shock before he answered in long winded rambles.

"Pisgy, Mei, Tang, the legend of the Demon Bull King is real! The Demon Bull King family took Monkey Kings staff off his prison, which I took in return to defend myself, and now he's probably out there wrecking everything! And now he's probably after me too because I have the staff and all those legends Mr. Tang told me were true, and now I'm freaking out!" Mk finished his ramble by lifting up the red and gold staff in his hand.

The restaurant was silent... before hysterical laughter from Pisgy and Mei filled the restaurant. "Bahahaha! You can't expect me to believe that kid! Those are all just legends!" Mei spoke up. "Hahahahah! Yeah, Mk! Are you sure you didn't get a concusion from that earthquake?"

Mk pouted as he raised the staff once again. "But I'm telling the truth! This is the Monkey Kings staff, and all those legends were true! You at least believe me, right Mr. Tang?"

But Tang didn't answer. He just stared at the staff blankly. His hands dug into the pages of his book until they were wrinkled beyond repair. "Mr. Tang? You okay there?" Mk asked in concern.

"That's... that's Sun Wukongs staff." Tang whispered through short breaths, still staring at the staff.

Mk quickly turned around to Pisgy and Mei. "See? At least someone sensible believed me."

Pisgy scoffed before challenging Mk. "If that really is the Monkey Kings staff, then why don't you show off some of its oH MY-"

But it was too late, as the staff elongated quicker than light and smashed straight through one of Pisgy's tables.

Mk showed them a bright smile. "Haha! See that?! That was freaking monkey power -"

Sounds of scraping metal and something hitting the floor stopped Mk mid sentence. Everybody turned around to face the bar.

Tang was on the floor, shaking violently with laboring breaths between small mumbling. His stool and book strewn to the sides as Tang kept staring at the staff, eyes unseen behind the reflections in his glasses.

Pisgy rushed over quickly, reaching out to shake Tang on the shoulder. "Woah, woah. Tang, are you doing alright there?"

But before Pisgy could even tough Tang's shoulder, his arm was swat away with a surprising amount of force. Pisgy cursed as Tang gasped and mumbled something out in response. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Pisgy. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; I just, I was shocked to see Sun- erm, the Monkey Kings staff in person like that, with the implications of the Demon Bull King back out again in out city."

Pisgy just huffed, "You're fine, Tang." Pisgy slowly put his hand around Tang's shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze.

"Thanks, Pisgy. I'll just... I'm gonna need some time for a moment. Go get Sandy; I'm sure he'll have some ideas about this." Tang gave a wobly smile as he slowly stood up.

Pisgy gave a scrutinizing look before seemingly giving up. "Yeah, you're right. He would know what to do." Pisgy turned back to the worried looking Mk and Mei. "Were gonna go meet my friend Sandy. He was THE MOST blood thirsty person I knew before..."

Their voices faded out of the restaurant as Pisgy ushered them out, with Tang left standing in the lobby. He just stood and let his smile drop for a moment. Eyes seemingly glazed over as he slowly walked back to Pisgy's bathroom.

His thoughts became louder and louder as he got closer and closer, collapsing as they started to become akin to stabbing his skull. Tang grits his teeth in pain as he lurches forward. Tears ran down his face along with black liquid out of his mouth, dripping onto the tile. He threw up.

Dark liquid and chunks of what looked like characol flooded into the toilet. He coughed violently before sagging onto the floor, mouth tasting like ash.

Tang takes off his glasses and puts them to the side as he puts the toilet seat down and flushed it. He sat on the toilet seat and forced himself to take deep breaths.

He thinks back to Pisgy, Mei, Mk, and that fucking staff... he hopes they'll be ok.

Previous || Next

[cetrouz]

Okay, I remember that I didn't share the little thing I wrote of Jun's letter to Grey, two years after his departure. Because there are some new PTSD fans, it would be fun to share it.

Jun's Letter to Grey

Hello Grey. How are you doing from up above?

It's been two years now, I know. A long time, but I can't help but remember you sometimes. It's like I can still feel your presence some days, like you're watching over me. Whether you are or not, I wanted to let you know how things have been going here.

I've been taking good care of Red. He is still as daring and gentle as ever despite his age. He is good company, not just for me, but anyone. He also misses you dearly, he gives me company whenever I come to visit you. I've also been visiting your old place to check on your animals… although most of them left after your disappearance. Anyways, I did my best to take care of them for you. I thought you would enjoy knowing that.

Oh, I've improved and now I'm working as a medic, traveling around the city and treating other vets and others in need… I should have realized sooner that fighting and isolating myself for survival wouldn't bring me anywhere. But I found my humanity by treating and taking care of people. They were the ones who brought me hope. And I wanted to redeem myself by offering them the help that the drug dealers weren't offering before. Things aren't perfect, of course, but… it's largely an improvement. I feel much better than before, and without Sam's help, another kind veteran that helped me get out of the hole I was digging, it would probably be more difficult. I opened a clinic, right by Leona's shop, where I settled in.

Oh, and Leona… I wish you had met her… She was the kindest soul that still held onto me even when I was at my lowest. She was eager to help me and anyone she found that were struggling. I tell her about you, and she wishes she had met you as well. She would have tried to help you if she knew you before. Without her kindness and help, I wouldn't be the same as I am now. I owe her a lot… Really, I… I wish you could have met her. Sometimes I wish I could take you to her restaurant so you can have a taste of her unique cuisine… Her stews are the best.

Everyday… I feel more satisfied with this life. But as always, the memories of the war still haunt me. The nightmares are constant, and I'm reminded of the scar that marks it all. But… I'm not alone. I guess all of us veterans are left with this haunting scar of our past. I… still have a lot to do, to redeem my own person. I don't think I can grow out of this scar, it's just part of me. But, it's growing on me the fact I'm not alone in this. That's why I want to retribute the kindness others gave me, and to give them hope. It's the only way we can grow out of this constant pain we live in… Even if the government gave up on us, there's others willing to take us in and help us. And I wanna be there and do the same too. It's only fair… to let them know we are stronger as a community.

I still wish to live long years achieving to do what I'm doing. It's saddening that not many live long enough to meet the kindness of strangers and fellow vets willing to help each other… I wish you were here to see it. I miss you alot, Grey. The world wasn't fair to us, but you kicked the bucket too early. I also wanted to show you the hope I saw, and that was given to me. We could have gone back and lived normal lives to the most possible extent. You would be happy like this. Sometimes I feel lost and I think about you… A fellow vet who understands the pain of war. We could have held up each other together and followed on with a more satisfying life. But… I understand now you're finally at rest, away from all the pain, all of the scars. I guess you deserved a rest after all of this. I still have things to do while I'm still standing.

Anyways, the future seems brighter and more lively than before. I thought you'd be happy to know that. I've figured out what I want to do and what I need. And now… I'll help others to figure it out too. Like you, Red, Sam, and Leona helped me. And many others too. I'm doing what I can. I've been out of meds for two years, and there's no more bloodshed and fear on my path anymore. A strength I did not harvest alone. So, thank you Grey, thank you so much for everything.

We will meet again some day.

[eddie-brii]

So guess who's back!! Sorry it's been a hot minute. I've been losing my mind with school. 😅. Thank you to @myshiptrashcan for the inspiration behind this one!

Stars and Colors.

Jason was twelve when his soulmate mark finally formed. He’d daydreamed about it. About how pretty she’d be, how they’d run away together... as far as he could from the hell he was growing up in.

He'd hoped it would have been Pearl. She was so sweet to him on the playground. Her bright red hair and freckles made her a prime target for bullies. When they were ten, she used to always cry at recess when Paul and his friends would take her stuff from her before scattering it. Jason finally worked up the courage to tell them to stop hurting her. He’d come home with bruises that day. He’d fought them off from her and gotten a talking to from the teacher. He couldn’t care less, not when Pearl gave him a kiss on the cheek for saving her. Ever since then they had spent every school day together, convinced that they’d be each other's soulmates with their storybook start.

But fate wasn’t so kind.

He’d been so excited until he saw where and what it was. The black mark on his left cheek in the shape of a fist gave little doubt to how his soulmate would first touch him. He’d looked for her, holding out hope that maybe he’d just ticked her off today, but Jason’s heart broke the moment he saw hers. It was on her hand, but looked as if someone was grasping it instead of matching his. The rest of the day he’d felt numb, he’d gone off by himself for the first time in two years at school. He wasn’t able to take the sad looks she kept giving him.

When he got home that day he remembered his pa yelling at him, drunk and angry, while his ma hid in the kitchen.

“Look! Your own Goddamn soulmate is going to beat the shit of ya! Fuckin’ worthless ass! Another reason you shouldn’t fuckin’ exist!”

He’d sat there and taken it. Glad there had been nothing thrown this time. After three hours his pa went upstairs to pass out, his ma finally coming to him. He looked up to her with glassy eyes, trying to fight back a sob. She sat down next to him, placing her hand on his back to rub small circles along his shoulders. She tried to think of what to say, her own soul mark was still dull and gray.

“Ma, what if my soulmate don’t want me? What if I hurt her? We ain’t goin’ be meetin’ good.” He’d been staring off at the wall. The hole in it felt like it was mocking him. Everything felt like it was mocking him. He didn’t want anything like what his parents had, didn’t want to fight like they had. He wanted to be a good husband, a good soulmate Goddamnit. The mark on his cheek made him feel trapped, like there was nothing he could do to keep from hurting. Would he be hurting her, like pa did ma? Would she have to defend herself? Would she be hurting him? Ma did say some women had tempers and weren’t afraid to beat men to bits. He kept playing possible scenarios in his head. His ma tried to knock the bad thoughts away. Seeing her son so lost made her heart break.

“Maybe they’ll just be restin’ their hand on your cheek funny?” It wasn’t working. He’d seen her sport a bruise in the same spot that was now on his face. “Jay, baby, it will be alright. You’ll see.”

He leaned into her for comfort as he felt tears beginning to spill from his eyes. He didn’t want to be hurt like this anymore, didn’t want to hurt his soulmate the way he’d been hurt. If that’s what they were destined for, he didn’t want it.

“I hope I never meet my soulmate.”

In Iraq

Salim breathed in as he took in his wedding garb. He would have looked dashing if it were not for the forlorn expression he wore. His hopes of finding his soulmate before twenty, before his parents began looking to arrange a wife for him were for naught.

He remembered when they first told him on his birthday. He’d sat in his bedroom, reading a favorite book when his parents came in. He’d hoped since they hadn’t brought it up during dinner that the conversation would be avoided for a while more.

Alas, he wasn’t so lucky.

It turned out they had already found him a wife, the courtship set to start in less than a week. He’d been quiet as they explained all of her good qualities, feeling his heart ache. It was already telling him she would not be his one. When they had met neither of their marks had become vibrant at each other’s touch. He knew it would be unlikely, but he had held out some hope. They had known from the first meeting, her wrist decorated with the palm of a hand where his was along his knuckles.

His bride to be was beautiful. Leila was everything that should make a man happy. She knew how to take care of a home and would make a good mother for their children.

“But..”

He stared at his mark, tracing it with his fingers. The black spot was almost painful to look at now that he stood in his wedding garb.

He sighed again; he was concerned when it had first made its appearance. That concern turning to imagining what ways he’d be touching his soulmate to cause his mark to develop in such a way. Gently brushing her cheek, her hand or her side. He wanted to be sweet to her, warm and loving.

Now though, as he stared at his reflection, he finally admitted he needed to let go. He needed to be there for his new wife, even if they didn’t share that connection. A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts.

“Salim, are you ready? It’s almost time,” his father called. Salim did his best to smile and turned to the door.

“Time to stop daydreaming.”

2001

They had spent many fond years together after that day. They may not have loved each other, but they had grown to at least care for one another. After Zain was born, they both turned their focus and love to him. That all changed when she went out to the market one day, not long after Zain’s fifteenth birthday. She never told him what happened, only came home with her mark now vibrant with colors swirling in beautiful patterns. She had tried to hide it, tried not to bring him pain, but he knew.

By evening, she and her belongings were gone. Salim held a confused and hurt Zain as they both fought back tears.

“They were alone now. He was alone now.”

In the US

Jason was tired, tired of the damn looks everyone gave him as soon as they saw his mark. Turns out people assumed the worst of him the moment he stepped into the room. People gave him a wide berth, few giving him a chance to prove them wrong. He’d turned to weed to numb himself from the rejection he felt. Slipping into a high made everything feel a little easier.

But then the war came. Jason saw an opportunity and jumped. If people already thought the worst as soon as they looked at him then maybe he could use that to his advantage. The recruiters were skeptical at first, but he out did all the other recruits and made sure his name was on the list for basic training.

A quiet voice in his head said he wasn’t doing this for the right reasons. That he wasn’t this person he was putting out into the world. Another chiming in that he was going to get himself killed. That this was not what he wanted out of life.

“Maybe not, but I haven’t got anything left to lose.”

[gutsfics]

1, 3, 9, 22, and 24 from the OC Interview Questions for Devi please!!!

yaaay thank you!!!! :3 ok im going Devi Mode now >:3

1. Who makes up your family?  How close are you to them?

well there's my mom and dad, and i have an older sibling, Avery, and two older sisters, Kennie and Satomi. im pretty close with all of them, especially my parents! tbh though it kinda feels like the five years i was dead made me miss a lot of my siblings' lives so theres like a sort of.... glass wall? i think? thats five years i cant get back, and they're all enough older than me that i wasnt really raised "with" them so much as i was raised after them, you know?

also Noah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Noah's been such a big part of my (un)life that it would be wrong not to call him family <3 plus also hes my boyfriend :3

3. What is your favorite childhood memory?

so Jane's favorite fruit is-- um... was [he looks kinda sad for a moment, but shakes it off] blackberries, but she was allergic to the brambles so when it was blackberry season, i'd crawl into bushes to get the juciest berries for her

anyway the september before, um.... she got a bit sick in september and i wanted to cheer her up so Noah and i went to the biggest blackberry bush we'd found in the forest and i picked as many blackberries as i could for her while Noah kept me company (cuz he's also allergic so he couldnt join me in the bush). we werent as close back then as we are now, and i dont remember really what we talked about, but i remember that it was one of the last warm days of the year as the season changed, and the forest was so pretty and i felt like nothing could ever go wrong

its, um, kind of a sad memory. bittersweet, i mean. but its important to me

9. Are you a spiritual person? If yes, what do you practice?

now that's a really interesting question. i know that there is a sort of "higher power" that exists in the world, but it's not really God, or A God or anything consious really. its more like.... a membrane woven into the world that makes it what it is. like a membrane holding back some kind of juice? God Juice. and there's that spot in the mountains where the membrane has been punctured so more of God Juice is flooding out of that hole than there should be in the world, and i was part of that god juice, and i think that god juice is now a part of me? or it made me or something? and if i focus, really focus hard, i can kinda hear the way the universe sings? not always though

but um. i dont really know if that counts as spirituality. and i dont "practice" anything it just... kinda is? i try to be nice to people and the world but that doesnt feel like "practicing spirituality"

22. What’s the easiest way to flirt with you?

ummm haha ohh..... i dont really know how to answer that..... growing up i was usually either ignored or bullied so its always so weird whenever someone flirts with me. its always like, are you talking to me?? oh, no thanks. i already got a guy for that

and Noah's not really a flirty guy. he'll walk into the underworld to carry me back home, for sure, but he doesnt really do flirting. unless you count just open and honest statments about how you feel about someone as flirting? i'll flirt with him absolutely, but usually gets too flustered to flirt back. its really cute

24. What would you consider your main love language?

spending years of your life devoted to taking care of someone who's lost everything, through thick and thin, even when things get hard, on days when they dont seem particularly... connected to their humanity. just being a constant in their life, a lighthouse in the middle of a typhoon, grounding them when theyre too lost to find solid ground on their own. walking into the unknown to grasp their soul and bring them back from the brink, even if that means everything changes, even if it means you yourself could get stuck yourself. would you still love me if i was a worm. would you still care for me i had nothing to give you but my company and my love, even if my company doesnt mean my touch or my conversation. would you still love me if i couldn't remember who you were.

um.

sorry. what was the question?

oh right! i think my love language is physical touch and acts of service and quality time. both giving and receiving them.