#this is tragic please accept my condolences once again

[ducklooney]

I haven't commented in a while, but this is really disturbing. Is this true? @boingodigitalart

If so, then I can see that you are very shaken by this, I'm surprised you didn't say so earlier. Please accept my condolences. May your mother and grandmother rest in peace and may they be eternally blessed! Amen.

I'm back, but I apologize to everyone for my long absence. I was not present for my own reasons, due to my obligations, which I had too many, and because I was sick earlier, and unfortunately I was absent because some of my loved ones died. May their souls rest in peace and eternal glory! Amen.

I hope to be here more often in the future and I'm fine now. But at what cost, unfortunately? :(

[bukojuiice]

farewell, my dark knight. — diluc ragnvindr

ೃ ft. diluc x gender neutral! reader

ೃ 6k words

ೃ tags and warnings: angst. a sweet and lovestruck diluc. reminiscing memories with him. he writes you letters and talks to you about his day. he’s very soft and he’s very much in love with you.

ೃ requested by anon:  “hi! could i request a diluc x reader, in which diluc dies from a mission, and as reader is cleaning out his room, they find letters neatly packed into drawers, and with closer inspection, they are letters diluc wrote to reader every day, so when he isn’t around anymore, reader can read them and not forget about him? sorry i’m a sucker for angst and your writing omg” (thank you for this request! and for making me cry while writing it! <3 i put a lot of work into this, so i hope everyone enjoys!)

ೃ genshin impact masterlist

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡ (please like and most esp. reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot!)

They say all your senses and your feelings are heightened when you are broken and mourning.

You hear things more clearly like the tenderness of his voice because it’s better than listening to the drum of your heart.

You feel the sun, the air, and his gentle touch on your skin because you are trying to feel things instead of shutting down. 

You smell his perfume and the scent of the pancakes he used to make- everywhere. 

You still feel his fingers as though they are knotted through yours and it makes you cry.

It hurts.

It pains you. 

This is the most tragic day of your life.

“Sir Diluc has.. passed away.” Jean announces, reaching for your hands and squeezing them in support. She pulls you inside a spare and lonely room in the Ragnvindr manor. Lisa is at her side, for extra emotional support, handing you a spare handkerchief as they break the news to you. 

Your heart sank. 

You were not the first to know. But, even if you were… there was no possible way.

 You were a traveling adventurer in search of something that will quell your curiosities; disappearing for days or weeks on end. There were times when Diluc would come with you on your travels and the two of you would just go wherever your heart desires. Staying in Qingce Village and mingling with the elderly townsfolk, Visiting the Adeptus abode, strolling around Springvale or vacationing in the summer islands… there was nothing that could stop the two of you together. 

As two of the heroes of Mondstadt from the Stormterror incident and his status as the esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery, you were famed and loved by all. Though as Diluc was not one for friendliness or casual interactions with others, It was all because of you that he had befriended some particular members of the Adventurer’s guild and the Knights of Favonius. You had even asked them if they could visit the Dark Knight hero at the winery from time to time. 

Well, aside from the regular visits of Venti and Kaeya to satisfy their quench for wine, Jean accompanied by Amber and Lisa to ask for advice, uncommon visitors such as Klee and Albedo had even come by to accompany him now and show him their wonderful new experiments and discoveries….

 You had given him a reason to have hope in the people of Mondstadt once again. His previous faction with the Favonius knights may have been imperfect, but Jean had proved to be amazing enough to rectify all these past mistakes that had eased Diluc’s resentment to the knights.

You continue to count back to all the things that he has done for you. As someone who’s had no home and who’s been traveling all their life, Diluc became your home. He had fallen for you and your wondrous soul. He was your living reminder that you can find home in a person. Someone who you can rely on, someone you will come back to after a long tiring day, someone who will love you for who you are and who will kiss your flaws away.  

And now, he’s gone. Just like that.

You have been gone for three months prior to all of this as you were on a secret commission to fight off a huge group of treasure hoarders in Natlan. Although you were able to travel back to Fontaine shortly after, you had to wait for further instruction from the guild before you could come back to Mondstadt. At the time, the only thoughts to occupy your mind was Diluc who had been waiting for your return and your longing and desire to run into his arms and for him to kiss your tiredness away. 

However, it took two agonizing days before Jean’s letter had arrived. All you could do was weep and worry endlessly at the inside of a quaint inn at the heart of the bustling and picturesque region that was Fontaine. Inside her letter were updated reports of Diluc’s disappearance; he had been missing for three days without telling the maids or any of the inhabitants of the mansion and the winery of his departure. He left without a trace…

As soon as the sun had risen that same day, you quickly left the region and made your way back to Mondstadt. With no knowledge or premonition that at the same day…

Diluc would be found.

On the road to Mondstadt, the staff at the Winery had been going on their merry day to deliver the wine to the city, when they came across a body. Battered and bruised. Upon closer inspection, it was their dearest master; the current head of the Ragvindr family. Further suspicion arose when a hoard of Fatui members had been defeated; lying beside the riverbend not too far from the manor. The Knights of Favonius had quickly deduced that Diluc had crawled all the way back to the outskirts of the Manor but had unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. 

From that day on, the sun had never shined again. 

Your stomach was in knots. You had a feeling that something had happened and yet, you didn’t expect for it to be something like this. You didn’t expect to hear about the state that he was in when he was found.

He’s strong. He’s the Dark Knight Hero, One of the protectors of Mondstadt; Hell, he’s one of the most powerful vision users of the region.

Yet… how did this happen?

A knock on the door had brought you out of your trance. With a simple “Come in.” said by Jean, the guest in question was revealed to be Kaeya who peered out from the door. A forlorn expression plastered upon his face. His head turns and your eyes meet his, “(Y/N)... how are you doing?” His voice gentle and melancholic. 

“N-never been better.” You remark in between sobs. “I-I need time to process this.” Wiping your tears with the handkerchief, you stand up, about to take your leave. “I-I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“According to the Favonius accords, Sir Diluc must be buried tom-”

“To hell with the Favonius accords!” You snap, still trying to fight back the tears as the three knights stare at you in shock and in empathy. “M-master Jean… p-please. Just one more day. Before I have to say goodbye to him forever… Let me have one day to reminisce about him.”

The Acting Grandmaster hesitates, as if collecting her thoughts first before she speaks. “Very well. We will be arranging the burial and other matters in the near future. For now, please get all the rest and recuperation you need. Thank you for your time, honorary knight. We’ll see you in a few days.” Jean holds your hand and gives it another reassuring squeeze as she and Lisa watch your walking figure make your way out of the room. 

Kaeya, who was still in front of the entryway, moves to the side to give you some space to make your leave. “Before the maids fully clean up his room, why don’t you tune in there for the night? I’m sure Diluc would love that.” 

“He would.” You smile half-heartedly, the indigo-haired man giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “T-thanks Kaeya. I will.” 

“I’ll be staying in the manor for the rest of Diluc’s memorial if you want t-to… talk about him. See you around.” You nod at him before shuffling down the stairs to enter the manor wing that led to Diluc’s room.

Oh, how you wish you were as calm as Jean and as emotionally mature as Kaeya right now. 

How are they able to hold up so well? How are they able to take this all in and not be on the verge of breakdown like you are? They’ve known Diluc since childhood. Hell, Kaeya was his adopted brother. His brother in arms. How are they able to accept his death just like that? 

Are you just… not as strong as them?

You take a left turn around the manor wing that leads to Diluc’s room to be surprised by Adelinde who greets you in front of Diluc’s door, a torn and bloodied folded paper in her hands. “Honorary knight, we have a letter addressed to you. The staff at the winery found it tucked inside Master Diluc’s pocket. You might want to read it.” She gingerly hands you the folded piece, patting your hand gently once she places it in your palm.

“Thank you, Adelinde.” 

You turn your attention to unlocking the door, fishing for the spare key that he had given you and inserting it into the knob, you hear the head maid speak behind your back. 

“Whilst you were away, there was never a day that Master Diluc had not spoken about you with such love and praise. I hope you know in your heart how much he loves and cherishes you. As there was never another person in his life who he had loved the most after Sir Crepus’ passing.” She recounts, her voice is slow and meek. “Thank you for loving Master Diluc and for showing him what it truly means to be a part of a family again. The entire staff sends our deepest condolences and we will be here for you and Sir Kaeya whenever you need us.” From the side of your eye, you see Adelinde bowing deeply before she subsequently takes her leave and disappears into the hallway.

With a heavy sigh, the door clicks and you enter your beloved’s abode. 

Not one thing has been touched. It still looks and remains the same.

His coat is still hanged on his wardrobe door, his usual button up black dress shirts folded neatly on one of the drawers, books that he’s read to you time and time again are shelved properly, a hearth in front of the bed that reminded you of your endless cuddles in front of the fireplace, his gloves neatly placed on his bedside table, and pictures of the two of you together in the Golden Apple Archipelago taken with the Kamera are hung on clips and strings on his desk.

It was like he never left. 

Like his physical being had just gone off on a long adventure.

Yet, it feels so empty. 

Because his soul and his presence is no longer here with you.

And it hurts. Everything hurts.

You take a seat on his bed. The mattress slightly creaks as you reach for an unusual piece of paper sticking out of his bedside drawer. Opening the cabinet slowly, your suspicion and curiosity heightens when what is revealed to be inside was a wooden box. Engraved were Diluc’s initials and letters that spelled out “Do not touch” 

Curiosity overwhelming you, you gingerly open the wooden box to be surprised with folded letters written by Diluc that were all addressed to you. Along with the date and time it was made. 

He wrote letters every single day. Hoping that once you came home, you could finally read them. Trying your best not to burst into tears, you carefully look through all of them and notice that they were all written during your absence. During those three agonizing months that you were gone. 

Although his daily letters were short and simply written, he never fails to write to you an encompassing message at the end of the week. In each weekly letter, he entailed many things: Like writing to you about his day, how much he misses you, how much time has passed, and discussing particular things he found during his nightly patrols or interesting things about his day. He wrote letters to you as if you were right there with him. His words etched with simplicity yet full of love. He wrote these letters to be whisked away from a minute of his otherwise mundane life. And despite how uneventful they may be, he still shares them with you because he knows you will listen. He knows you will take your time to read everything. As even though the two of you may be thousands of miles apart, your hearts will still beat as one.

You finally find the one that he had written for you the day after your departure, and begin to read it’s contents. Preparing yourself for an overflow of emotions that you were not ready for. 

JANUARY 3RD, 45 BP

As much as I hate to see you go, I realized that life has plans for all people. Even if those plans separate us from the ones we love. For the recent years that have passed, I have seen staff at the winery and maids in the manor come and go. And yet, I still haven’t gotten used to seeing you go off on your adventures. There are times I wish I could just be free of all of these responsibilities and come along with you on your escapades. But alas, I will presume that life is not for me. Always know that no matter where my life takes me or yours takes you, I will love you whether there are 1000 miles between us or none at all.

I miss you already, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 10TH, 45 BP

A week has come to pass since you left and I’ve been trying my best to keep myself busy. Kaeya has come to visit me and so has Venti, but they have done absolutely nothing to alleviate my boredom. In fact, they’ve all been a pain in the arse. When I tossed them into two of the guest rooms for passing out drunk, I was suddenly reminded of the times that you would wait for me at the Angel’s Share and help me drag Rosaria back to the cathedral, Kaeya back to his residence, and Venti back to the tree in Windrise. Then, we would take a night stroll around the city as the dwindling lights of the shops and houses being the only things illuminating our way. I cannot wait to do all of this with you again. It feels like the universe closes in around us whenever we’re together. But… the moment is so fleeting and you are gone again. The universe is awfully large and I am awfully small,  unable to hold the world with my hands. I just wish you were here to make me feel as if the universe is close enough to reach once more. 

Good night, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 17TH, 45 BP

It is 9 o’ clock in the evening as I write this. Today, Bennett had visited and asked if I could train him to control his vision. I said yes as I had nothing much better to do. Fischl and Razor were there to accompany him as well. To be quite honest, they’re quite a convivial trio. It’s nice to see them remain free-spirited despite everything that has happened recently. I could not bear to remain as cheerful as they are amidst the constant abyss order and Fatui attacks. After our training, Razor had come up to me and told me that you and I are lupical. I didn’t quite understand at first, but with Fischl’s long and heavy explanation, I had come to understand what it meant: Family.

Perhaps… we can be a family? Have a family of our own?

Oh… wait. I know, it’s too soon. So, please disregard my wishful thinking for now. I’d like to apologize if that may have come out the wrong way.

Thank you for reading today’s letter, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 24TH, 45 BP

I finished a book I borrowed from the Favonius library today. Lisa said you've been eyeing the tome for a long time. However, since Ella Musk was borrowing it at the time and you had to leave shortly for your trip to Natlan, you never got the chance to. I'd like to apologize for having been able to read it in advance. Perhaps, I can read it to you once you get home? Maybe in front of the fireplace, blankets hugging us for warmth, and cups of hot chocolate in our hands? Anyhow, there was something I found interesting about it.

There are Sumeru philosophers who claim that the past, present, and future all exist at the same time. That there are parallel universes. It had me thinking, in another universe... Would we still be together? Will fate bring us together? Could there be more for us outside of this blue sky we share?

I'm sorry for making you worry. It's probably my insomnia kicking in. These past twenty days have been quite lonely without you.

Goodnight, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

JANUARY 31ST, 45 BP

I can’t believe that January has finally come to pass. It feels like forever since you left. I know, I know, I sound like I’m sulking. But… the thoughts I had from finishing the book last week still have not left my mind. If only I could close my eyes and find myself in the place wherever you are right now. Kind of like…. What were those called? Waypoints? Yes! Those. Mayhaps, I should pay Sucrose or Albedo a visit and ask if they could make a portable wayfinder for me or a potion that can teleport me anywhere? Well, at least I have something interesting to do tomorrow. 

See you soon, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

FEBRUARY 7TH, 45 BP

The day you left, I went through all my old journals, frantically looking for the first mention of you. Searching for details I can no longer recall and any morsel of information that may have been lost. It honestly made me laugh at how different I used to think of you back then. You were always a kindred soul and yet, there was an eccentric air around you that I just couldn't quite understand. It was the good kind, of course. I have never thought ill of you since the beginning. Ever since the tragedy that befell my father, I would push everyone away from me. I told myself that if you didn't form close bonds with others, then you wouldn't get attached to them. They would be easier to let go and you could. But... you were the first who went out of your way for me. The first time you entered Angel's Share and challenged me to a game of chess solely because someone from the Adventurers' guild told you so? I knew there was something about you. Something wonderful. I wish to show you these old journals soon. Mayhaps you can get a clearer picture of my thoughts and impressions of others once you read them. 

For now, all I can do is count the days until you are home once more.

 Goodnight my love, may the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

FEBRUARY 14, 45 BP

People should fall in love more. Fall in love with how the dandelions blow with the wind, Fall in love with the safe and comforting feeling of being in the middle of a bustling city that is Mondstadt, Fall in love with the stars and the night that shines before us and Fall in love with the idea of being in love or loving someone. Having recently realized these things, I had the most spontaneous idea of wanting to get married in the Winery with you. In the future, of course. I know it’s not much. But I know you’re not the type to want anything fancy, so it’s the perfect area for the most beautiful moment of our lives to take place.

I had gotten a little too into the idea of planning our wedding and I aimlessly listed down those who will be attending. All our closest friends and family. Can you imagine Little Klee as the flower girl? Kaeya as the best man? Jean and Lisa as the maids of honor? Maybe we can even ask Eula to choreograph our wedding dance for us? Most importantly, have the wonderful honor of having the Lord Barbatos to officiate our marriage?

Once again, I hope you can pardon me and my blissful escapism. I can’t wait for the day to arrive where we can plan all of this and make it a perfect wedding.

As always, thank you for reading my constant rambles and inner thoughts, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

FEBRUARY 21ST, 45 BP

If you were taken away from me, this place called our world, I would cry.

Sighing, wringing my hands, and wondering why.

How can the archons and those up in Celestia dare to take the most precious soul in the universe from me?

But... what if I would be the one who would be taken away from you? Will you feel the same way too?

FEBRUARY 28TH, 45 BP

Please excuse me for everything I said in my message last week. I may have sounded somewhat selfish and I'd like to apologize for making you overthink when you already have so much on your plate. I cannot wait to mail out these letters to you, but the postal office in Monstadt doesn't deliver letters to Natlan, unfortunately. I guess I have to wait until you reach Fontaine. Putting those aside for a moment, something happened today that I wanted to share with you. Whilst I was feeding Noctua, I had realized something. What about the little birds who dream of flight? Those who gaze into the starry night and think that one day... they might be a part of that same sky? To be free, to explore, and to have the feeling of air and light coursing through their wings. Is... this the same feeling you felt before? Is this why you go on adventures?

I'd love to talk to you more about this once you get home. For now, all I can do is write you a letter and bid you goodnight. 

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

March 7TH, 45 BP

Whenever I write a letter addressed to you, I feel a raw ache in my bones when the ink seeps into the paper— for I feel the bittersweet sorrow of wanting you to be right by my side, to have my fingers intertwined with yours, and to be exhumed by you because you have always seen past all my flaws and imperfections. I miss you. So much. At this point, it feels as if I have no right to. Tell me... is it right to feel this way? Am I being selfish for wanting the days to come by? For April to be in our midst? Can I blame the archons for wanting to have you in my arms again? There’s something happening next week, and to be honest, I’m quite excited for it. See you soon, my love.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

March 14TH, 45 BP

Today is the first day of the Windblume Festival. How I terribly wish you were in Mondstadt right now. This would have been your first year and I know you would love the events. I remember when Father brought Kaeya and I to the festival for the very first time, and oh how my eyes were filled with wonderment and unshaken innocence. He gifted us a harp that day, and I still play it when I have time. It’s a wonderful keepsake with a lovely name, (The Windblume Ode) and it never fails to remind me of my father. I wonder if… Kaeya still kept his? Nostalgia aside, Venti caught up to me on the way home and told me I should see what he has in store for the second week of the festival. I know that the bard has a lot up his sleeve, but this particular encounter with him filled me with curiosity. What could it be? What does he have in store for me?

Before I end this, I bought you a bouquet of Dandelions and Cecilias today. They have a different color than the usual wreaths and posies, as these ones only bloom during Windblume. I placed them inside the vase on your desk just a few minutes ago. I do not necessarily have green thumbs, so please do not blame me if anything bad happens. I made sure that they’re still in season once you get home and I can’t wait for you to see them.

Goodnight my love, May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

MARCH 21ST, 45 BP

Once you get home, please do assist on reprimanding the bard for me. Can you believe he had tricked me into attending his love poem-making classes? Since a lot of the cityfolk have been dying to take writing classes under him and were willing to pay if he did, he had decided to take this opportunity to receive mora and “get rich.” Venti brags to the cityfolk that he will use their compensation for good reasons… but we all know he’ll just spend it wasting away at Angel’s Share. I won't let him pass me when it’s my hour to manage the tavern, of course. But… maybe one drink as a prize for all his hard work wouldn’t be too bad? After all, I did learn a lot of things from him. He was also quite smart for incorporating such an activity with Windblume. As during the festivities,  the people of Mondstadt offer Windblumes to Barbatos and to those they love and adore. 

I spent all day being mentored and trained into creating “the most romantic poem written in Teyvat” I know Venti is bluffing and was just trying to soften me so I wouldn’t get mad at him, yet he was actually genuinely impressed with my poetic skills. I didn’t want anyone else to read it before you did, but he snatched the paper from my hands as soon as I finished so that he may critique it. I… didn’t expect him to shed a tear. 

Here is the poem I wrote for you, my love. I hope you’ll like it.

“I wish one day, I'd be able to lay you down on a bed of roses with

the stars watching over us.

I wish one day we will be able to see the world together, to touch the stars and become planets.

After all, darling, stars, like life, is what you make of it. 

 I wish you knew how much I've loved you for all these years, so quietly, so loudly.

One day these roses will never compare to the redness in your cheeks, the softness of your heart.

 One day you will see kingdoms rise and the sun dance on your eyelids.

 And one day the moon will hang from your fingertips, waiting for you to refract your light and hope onto others.

You are an enigmatic being. A beautiful soul. Sometimes I think that you’re not from this universe.

 You have enraptured my soul; my whole being. You taught me how to love. 

Everything about you is out of this world and I am merely a human amazed by your interstellar presence as if you are written in the stars.”

 MARCH 28TH, 45 BP

I think I’ve gotten the hang of writing poems. I’m quite confident in my lyricism and in my writing now. So, here’s an excerpt of another poem I’m writing for you. 

 “I will love you through all the days and nights we are apart.

I will love you through every day and as the darkness turns to light. 

It is four o’ clock in the afternoon and this is the hardest part.

But this is the way I love you, even if most days we are apart.” 

 That’s all for now. I’m afraid you’ll only see the final draft once you get back. I hope you’re having a wonderful time at Natlan. Take care always, my love.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

 APRIL 4TH, 45 BP

I’ve been pondering about something again today. And It’s all because of Kaeya and Jean. They came over and we reminisced all day long about our childhood memories with tea and crumpets to accompany us. It was a nice feeling. To be able to look back on your childhood with such wistfulness. With such warmth. And with that, I realized something soon after: We’re young, but not that young. Some of the folk in Springvale are sixty-five and still feel young. Even Lord Barbatos feels young. Just because we have years ahead of us doesn’t mean our love isn’t going to last a lifetime. But… that’s the thing. We don’t have an entire lifetime to show love and affection towards each other and to others. Which is why we have to make the most of it. Live in the moment. Make the most of every minute that your heart is beating. Love endlessly. Be kind to others. That’s… what you always told me right? Even if we don’t have the rest of our lives to be with each other, I will still love you anyway. Every day, deeply, wholeheartedly, even if we are young and even if we are old. My love for you will be gentle, but fierce and bold.

That is all for now, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

April 11TH, 45 BP

The words are melting in my mouth like snow, and I feel like I'm running on empty, but there are only 5 days until you come home. I have dreamt every night of the morning we are together again. You will be drinking dandelion wine and I will be talking about how the orchard will finally bloom. Then in the next few months, we can do everything we dreamed about. We can go around the winery, have picnics amongst the stars, walk around Mondstadt and go on adventures once more. Soon, you will be home, and I will watch the leaves and patiently wait for time to pass by  until we are together again. 

 But.. since I cannot wait no more, I plan to travel all the way to Fontaine to see you. I will not be telling any of the maids or the staff where I’ll be going. They would worry if I left again. This is all going to be a surprise and this letter will proof of that. I want to be beside you once more and I cannot bear to wait for five more days. I will be leaving at Dawn tomorrow! I’ll treat this as a little vacation. I rightfully deserve it as a treat for my birthday, hoping I can spend it together with you. Maybe… we can take a quick detour and go on a little adventuring? Just the two of us. I know you’ll be weary from your trip, but we can continue to stay at Fontaine but we can go once you’ve fully recovered.

 I cannot wait to feel your warmth and your love in person again. See you soon, my beloved.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

That was it. That was the last letter stored in the box. 

 You stare into nothingness, unable to find the words to say. 

 Tears began to form in your eyes, your vision blurring and your hands quivering at the thought of him. All these letters he’s written to you all throughout these months and the fact that he was planning to surprise you by meeting with you at Fontaine? It hurts you so much thinking of all the things that could’ve been. Thinking about what could’ve happened if this tragedy did not take place.

 “Diluc…”

 You call out for his name. Hoping there is an answer. 

 But… of course there isn’t. 

 Your hands absentmindedly graze upon the corners of the  bed when you suddenly remember the torn letter Adelinde had given you. 

 You open the letter with slight hesitance, noticing the dark stains that presumably came from Diluc’s torn and dirtied clothes. With a heavy sigh and as you dry your tears, you begin to read the letter. 

APRIL 13TH, 45 BP

Ever since you left, I felt as if we were breaking the whole world's heart. But... all this time, it was always the other way around. It was the world that was slowly breaking us. 

 Even in these last moments, I cannot fathom that I will be disappearing from this world without even seeing you again. It hurts. My body. There are bruises and wounds all over. My hands are trembling in fear and weariness. I can barely move my wrist and I can hardly think of the words I want to say. I feel the end is drawing near. Not for the world, not for you, but for me. Everything is caving in, my senses are slowing, my eyes are falling, and just waiting for the rest of my system to put me into an eternal sleep. 

 Would... time be so kind as to slow? Can the world stop for a minute and listen to my plea? To my call? A miracle to happen that could magically transport you to me? I w-wish we could have spent more time together. All these letters I’ve written for you these past few months… were they an omen? Was I foolish to think I could have a future with you? Is this the price to pay for having been separated from you for so long? Is it… still possible to attain it? The life I’ve always wanted with you?  Maybe in another world, we can. 

We will share every innocent dream and talk about our fears. All your hopes and dreams. I will listen to the sound of your voice and the echoes of your soul. I will kiss your forehead, your knuckles, and your lips. I will stand by you in every new day even when people seem so unkind. I will join up all your insecurities, bundle all your flaws, and make them into a constellation so that I may find them and wish them away. I will do everything to make you feel safe. I will do everything to make you feel loved. There was never a day that I doubted you. You are everything to me, (Y/N). You are a free and wandering soul. I wish I could be behind you to support you wherever you may go, but alas, that fate is not for me. And… I think that’s fine.

 Remain as you are. Continue to love others like you have loved me. Teach them what it means to live. Like you have taught me.

 Please… don’t be sad. This is the momentary sadness to a new beginning, my beloved.

I love you to the stars and back. 

I hope that in another world, our paths may cross again. 

May the stars of Teyvat always shine on you.

A heavy yet comforting feeling fills your heart as tears continue to stream down your cheeks. Folding the letter and putting it into the box amongst all the others, You clutch your hand to your chest, looking up at the ceiling.

 “Diluc, my love… if you are out there. I will love you forever. Through all these months of my absence, you have never left my mind and I wish I could have been there  for you. I wish I could have given you the same amount of love that you have given me. There are so many things I wish I could have done with you. Every letter and every word you’ve ever dedicated to me will forever remain in my heart. These handwritten sentiments will be one of my reminders that you are still with me, no matter where I go. Even if it hurts so much, I will continue to live for you. Honor your memory. I will show the world that I have only loved one man in this lifetime. Thank you for everything.

 You have now become one of the stars that shine down upon me. Soon, we will once again meet in the same sky and there, we will have our happily ever after.

 Farewell, my dark knight.”

ೃ taglist: @ganyuuxs @mignonextte @inlovewithadeptusxiao @duhsies @qimiie @kozu-zumi @volleybloop @latteshinsou @catgirlkomi @reaped-winnower @monaa @dibhachu @sugurus-princess​ @midnightangelfox​ @call-me-moonflower

[gerec]

The Master of Charlton Park

Chapter 8 - Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

This is a double update, and the end of chapter 8! Only the epilogue to go now in Charles’ POV, before we can put this regency au to bed!!! 

-----

“Yes,” Raven added, and Erik could hear her laughing still as she tossed a parting remark over her shoulder. “Take as much time as you need to get reacquainted! We shall keep the children occupied until dinner.” And then they were gone, leaving Erik with Charles alone in the drawing room, together for the first time since Charles’ wedding day all those years ago. Neither of them spoke for long moments, with Erik trying to calm his fraying nerves while Charles hid his expression behind his teacup. The quiet was tension filled, with words unspoken permeating the air, as conspicuous as the lines that remained unwritten in the many letters they’d shared. “So when did you—” “Well, I really can’t—” They both stopped mid-sentence and laughed, and some of the stiffness in Charles’ frame all but melted away. In turn the anxiety that had built up in Erik’s gut promptly disappeared, and his tongue did not feel quite so heavy as he searched for the right thing to say. There were a million things he wanted to ask and a million he wanted to say, though there was one in particular that needed to be addressed. “I confess I did not expect to see you back in England,” Erik began, keeping his eyes glued to Charles’ face. “After the Captain…I thought you might come back then, to be with Raven and the rest of your family. But then you wrote and said that you would be staying in America…” It was plain to see the lasting effect Rogers’ passing had on Charles, for he remained clad in mourning attire still, though the incident had occurred almost a year and half ago. Even now the pain of his loss was palpable, and Charles had to take a deep breath and compose himself before he could answer. “There was so much work to do, after the fire,” he said, his hands shaking just a little as he set his cup aside. “Finding temporary homes for the children, raising funds to rebuild…I couldn’t abandon them when they needed me the most.” He remembered clearly the shock he felt, and the sorrow for Charles and the Captain both when Raven had shared with him the contents of her brother’s letter. An accidental fire, sweeping through the small orphanage that the couple ran in New York City. The bravery of Rogers as he ran in again and again to rescue those trapped inside, until all the children were safely accounted for. How he had succumbed to too much smoke in his lungs from that courageous feat, and died the same way he’d lived – as a hero, honorable and beloved. “Charles, I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Charles said, and though his voice wobbled just a little, he did not lose his composure. “For your letters, and for your condolences. I will not deny that it was very difficult, losing Steve, though I was lucky to have James and Natasha’s support.”

Erik nodded. “You mentioned them in your letters; a Mr. Barnes and his wife. I believe he’s the Captain’s friend and former shipmate?” “Indeed Steve and James had been friends since they were children,” Charles agreed, and smiled when Erik refilled his cup with fresh tea from the pot. “And he and Natasha both have become great friends to me. I could not have made the decision to come home if not for the two of them, you know. I would not have left the orphanage if I did not know they would take excellent care of the children in our stead.”   He had thought himself beyond petty jealousy, having long accepted Charles’ marriage to Rogers, and yet he still felt a twinge at the way his ex-lover said ‘our’ when he spoke of his late husband. There was so much affection, admiration and love, and a shared passion in their work together with the lost children they fostered. They’d had a life together, even if it had been tragically cut short, with a son that they could love wholly and without any societal constraints.           It was the life he’d wanted – still wanted – with Charles, though he had no idea if it was even possible, after all this time apart. “Then I am grateful to them as well, and so very thankful to have you back in our lives again.” Charles smiled, and squeezed his hand. “I am glad to be back too, Erik. I have missed you and Edie, so very much.” --- They went to see Mrs. Fergus next, who, as expected was thrilled to see Charles again, and embraced him heartily as a long lost son. After promising more of Charles’ favorite dishes for tonight’s dinner, and securing from him a promise to return often to visit, she shooed them from the kitchen and set to work. Charles was visibly moved by the warmth of her welcome, and seemed surprised at the fondness he’d inspired, from his relatively short time living at Charlton Park. But it was the same with everyone they visited; with Azazel and Janos and the rest of Erik’s staff, who were all full of smiles and well wishes for one they saw as their own. Charles was still smiling when Erik led him outside for a walk on the grounds. They had taken this path together many times, following the exterior of the house to the gardens, and then onwards towards one of the small streams that criss-crossed the property. It was a companionable silence, and one that Erik cherished greatly, basking in the simple joy of Charles’ presence at this side again. Though he still had great hopes – for Charles to love him again, and be with him once more – it would be enough if simple friendship was all that existed between them, now and in the future. Their feet took them to a familiar spot under a canopy of trees; one of their favorite places on the grounds to visit while Charles was pregnant with Edie. It was the crest of a small hill, overlooking the surrounding area, close enough to see the house in the distance but far enough for privacy. They had stolen many a kiss here, entwined in each other’s arms, blissfully happy as they awaited the birth of their baby. Ignorant of the separation that would come to pass, with a bright future still before them… It had truly been the most magical time of his life. “You know, I never had the chance to thank you, for what you did,” Charles said, his voice drawing Erik back from the memories of that far off time. He shook his head and smiled. “I am always at your service, Charles, though I’m not sure what you mean.” “I mean—” And here Charles turned to face Erik, his eyes brimming with emotion, and reached to grip tightly at his hands. “I know why you were there that day, at my wedding. I know you came to stop it, and I know why you didn’t, once you realized that Steve and I had already exchanged our vows.” “Oh.” It was entirely unexpected, that Charles should bring up that painful memory, and he did not know what to say in reply. “I—” He sighed, and squeezed Charles’ hands in return. “You were married, Charles. I could not bear to ruin your special day.” “I know,” Charles said, and the smile on his face was tinged with sadness – for Erik, or for them both he could not say. “I realized only months later, when Raven wrote me about your divorce from Emma. You gave me my happiness, at the expense of your own, Erik, and I shall always be grateful to you. More than I can say.” Erik swallowed, and steeled himself for what he knew was coming. “Your happiness is all I’ve ever wanted.” “I told myself that things between us might have changed,” Charles continued, and Erik was almost glad that his heart couldn’t be broken again, since it had never fully mended in the first place. “I did not come here expecting anything, or to pretend that things did not happen as they did. Only I wanted - needed to tell you that I—” “Please, Charles,” Erik said, because he did not actually think he could bear any pity, or worse, for Charles to feel a sense of obligation to be with him. “You don’t have to explain. I would gladly remain your friend, and be greatly honored for it, for the rest of our days.” He did not know what expression he wore, but Charles gasped and cupped his hands gently on either side of Erik’s face. “Oh, I’ve made a terrible mess of this, haven’t I? No, darling, no you misunderstand me. I only meant to say that I love you, still, always and forever, and was hoping, perhaps…that you might still love me too?” Stunned, Erik could only stare at Charles with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You…you love me?” “Yes,” Charles said, “though I wouldn’t presume that you might feel the same way.” “You wouldn’t…” He paused then, as laughter bubbled in his chest, his heart suddenly filled with joy overflowing. “How could you even think that I might not still love you, Charles, with everything that I am? That I could ever stop loving you, always and forever until the day I died?” At last his remaining self-restraint fell to the wayside, and he swept a grinning Charles into his arms, spinning them both until they were giddy and breathless with laughter. And he kissed him then, as he’s dreamed of doing for so long, relishing the taste of Charles’ mouth, and the way he moaned against Erik’s lips. They clutched each other desperately, as though afraid the other might disappear, so lost in euphoria that he did not know where Erik Lehnsherr ended and Charles Xavier began. He did not know how long they stayed on that hill, or who was the first to pull the other onto the grass; Erik only knew happiness, and a contentment he did not believe he would ever feel again. Of course they could not do much more than share lazy kisses, given their location, and the fact that the children were waiting; Erik knew that they’d already left his guests to their own devices for much longer than was polite or proper. “You will marry me, won’t you?” he asked, as they brushed the grass from their trousers and fixed their jackets and cravats. Charles did not seem surprised to hear his abrupt proposal, and he pulled Erik into another kiss before he led them down the hill and back towards the stables. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” Charles said, “though not this minute, and not for a while yet. “We must think of Edie and James after all, and ease them into the idea of our relationship.” He knew that Edie would be over the moon when she found out about Charles and Erik, though he could not say the same for young James who had lost his father not so long ago. For his sake, and for Charles’, he would wait as long as it was needed. “Will you accept my courtship then? In the meantime?” Erik asked, as he brushed a soft kiss on Charles’ hand. “Will you let me lavish you with gifts, and call upon you at your home, until such time that we both deem it suitable to wed?” Once, he thought he knew true happiness, in his lover’s arms, or looking together upon the sweet face of their newborn daughter. And yet, it was only now that the path before them was truly clear of any obstacles; that they were each finally free to choose a life together without sacrifice and pain. “Yes,” Charles said, and Erik could only smile as they made their way home.

[yafaemi]

vi. | revenant.

What? I’ve definitely been writing this entire time. What do you mean? I didn’t take a break for too-tired-to-even-exist reasons. I’m definitely not going to be going a bit slower with this stories, because honestly I Am Still Fairly Tired.

Anyways, this is a really like... exciting story for me!! This is another one of those kinda stories that I had the entire plan for, but just never got into actually writing. I’ve been planning for something like this to happen for months. Literal. Months.

Description: In the midst of a morning stroll, Amandine is bumped into by a rather... interesting stranger. Yet, even from the first, there is something... unsettlingly familiar about them.

_________________________________________________________

She didn’t know what to make of the man before her. 

This stranger was so hauntingly familiar. Amandine knew she had never met him before. She was good at faces, yet this one was… had she not still been staring so intently, there would have definitely been a deepening frown on her face. 

“...just remembered, I never mentioned my name.” One hand ran through almost-black hair, and he smiled. “But where are my manners? Bumping into a stranger, and not even introducing myself! Averoux D’amboise,” he said, with a half-step back into a bow. 

It took her a few moments to pull away from the overpowering feeling of familiarity. She knew that name, and she knew that face, yet from where? “Amandine,” she replied with a bow of her own. “Forgive my forwardness— we haven’t met before, have we? For some reason, I…” she trailed off, arms crossing. “...nevermind. It must be my mind playing tricks on me.” 

Averoux’s eyes furrowed for a moment. One eyebrow raised a half-second later, leaning forward towards her. There was a frown on his face as he said, “That makes two of us, then. How strange.” 

There was plenty strange about their encounter already. One that Amandine had been pretending not to notice was how similar they looked— had she seen herself and this stranger side by side, as a random bystander, she would have assumed of some familial relation. Yet that wasn’t…

Even then, from what she had been told by her aunt, before...

It didn’t bear thinking about. Amandine shrugged with a far more tense smile than she meant, “A funny coincidence if there ever was one.” Another half moment to look around, as if thinking of something other than the strangeness occurring before her, before, “I believe it’s about time that I take my leave. May the Fury watch over you.” 

“...Wait.” 

Amandine stopped at his side. She glanced over with a raised eyebrow, watching Averoux slowly turn towards her with a narrowed gaze, clearly searching for… something. She shifted her weight slightly, and stole another glance to the way she’d been going. Then with an even breath turned directly towards him. 

Averoux’s expression was far less dignified for several moments as he seemed to spot whatever it was in her face he looked for. “Were you adopted into your family?” One half of a second and he added, “Rude, yes, and I absolutely beg forgiveness— yet I can’t shake that feeling. Nophica as my witness, I am not crazy.” 

For some reason, she highly doubted that. “I advise that you explain yourself, before I lose my patience,” Amandine said with a slow reach towards her staff. Her fingertips brushed against it at first, before finally wrapping around its length. “And deliver you to the Temple Knights in pieces for your questionable act.”

Normally, she wouldn’t make such threats towards someone. In the middle of the day in Ishgard, no less. Yet something about the encounter seemed far too off. Perhaps it was the still-remaining sense of familiarity. The only time she blinked was when her eyes started to burn. 

And still, the living enigma of an Elezen before her didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, the light violet stare seemed amused. He cracked a smile— hardly an echo of the polite-yet-distant smile of one talking to a stranger they’d just met. It took every ounce of Amandine’s self-control not to wipe it off his face with a whack of her staff. 

“I’m going to say I’ve struck a chord.” The worsening state of her glare apparently confirmed it for him. Averoux’s tone quickened, racing words like an excited child, “Allow me to take a guess— you are… roughly 25, yes? And you were when you were adopted…” he took half a second to count on his hands, numbers mumbled under his breath, “...Approximately 2?” 

She didn’t reply. Just raised a brow. 

“I’ll take your suspicious glare as a yes.” He glanced at her hidden hand. “I would… also appreciate it were you not actively reaching for your weapon. I have no intention of causing you harm. Nophica— once again— as my witness.” When she didn’t move, he only sighed. “...Very well.” 

“I would appreciate it if you could get to your point. I have far better to do than listen to the ramblings of a madman.” 

“I am as sane as they come, my good lady.” 

“I would sooner believe a coeurl say it doesn’t intend to make a meal of my bones,” Amandine said through gritted teeth. Perhaps it was a show of her lacking sanity, to be entertaining the fool for so long. Or a telltale sign that she spent far too much time around people— or, more specifically one person— who always believed the best of everyone. 

There was that smile again. “What good news for us both, then. Last I checked, I am no coeurl.” Before she could even react, Averoux nodded. “I’m afraid it only gets more convoluted from here. Should you like to hear it, then I have a story to tell. I think you would benefit from hearing it in full.”  

Amandine let out a sigh. “Do you need a formal invitation to tell this story, then? Speak. While I’m still foolish enough to stand here and listen to this nonsense.” 

“One specifically in cursive, if you please, with a lovely floral border,” he replied with a bare nod. There was a smirk now, instead of a smile. Amandine was about to clobber him half to death already, yet that made the idea of it so much more tempting. Whether by his own realization of her ever-withering patience, or just an observation of how she shifted her grip behind her again, Averoux cleared his threat. “23 year long winters ago— or, near enough not to matter— there was a family. Disillusioned with their life in the Brume, and tired of the near constant eyes of Ishgard’s wealthy gazing down at them, they left.

“A mother, a father, and two siblings…” He trailed off there, and the look in those light violet eyes seemed far too intense. “A boy and a girl.” At that, Averoux turned away, and began pacing. Amandine’s eyes never left him as he moved. Measured, even steps. “Where their footsteps went was anyone’s guess. Only one thing remained certain: it was away from Ishgard, and that was enough for them.” 

Amandine would have crossed her arms, were one of them not already occupied with her staff. “Heretics in the making, I would guess.” 

Averoux stopped and smiled at her. He said nothing of her comment, only pausing long enough for the stop to be noticeable. And then, he continued pacing again. “This family, they were slaughtered. Likely by Dravanians, given locale. Any soul with an understanding of the creatures would assume the tale ends there. However,” he said with a dramatic turn back to her, “By the will of Halone or by some other deity, the young boy was spared this fate— just barely. 

“Awoken some time later in a new place, where the sunlight poured abundant into every window and the whisper of the elements was in every crevice to those who could hear it. And there he stayed with a lovely little couple of farmers who did all they could to make this child happy. Nophica Herself had sent them to be this child’s aid that day, and they were diligent about their work.”

“What good fortune.”

Either he didn’t notice the sarcasm in her tone, or he just didn’t care. Averoux nodded with another smirk, “Good fortune, indeed. Yet there was one thing they could never give to this child: his family back. They found, quite quickly, that he remembered it. He remembered this loss, and despite their greatest effort, they simply couldn’t replace that which he lost. Even then, they lived a happy life together, for many long years.” 

That certainly wasn’t what Amandine expected. She couldn’t help the small amount of pity that flashed across her face. “It sounds as if these people in your story met a tragic end. I would offer my condolences.” 

“Oh, hardly. They still lead a comfortable life at home. They let their little boy go when he reached his nineteenth winter to finally fulfill the one wish they couldn’t for him. He enlisted in the Archer’s guild, learned all there was to know, and then set off with a single mission. He was going to find what had happened to his family, for he was certain not all of them had perished.” 

Even since the story had begun, Amandine’s feelings about it hadn’t been the brightest. Yet as he continued explaining, she’d slowly been getting more unsettled. Whatever conclusion there was to be had from this, the sinking sense in her gut said she already had a feeling of what it could have been. 

“So he went. For years, he searched. Through the chaos of the Calamity, through the legendary end of the Dragonsong War, all of history was happening, and still he stayed firm in the past. There was nothing more important than this, in his eyes. Nothing.

“Yet, on the eve of another unsuccessful year of searching… he gave up. To spend his life searching for those who were already dead… it was time to accept it. And so he did. And was left without a purpose.” 

Averoux stopped again. His shoulders raised in a long sigh, dropping only at the exhale. With that, he turned around again, yet not in the pattern he’d taken. Instead, he went to stand in front of her again. “And that was where he remained. Drifting, wandering, taking odd jobs and leves to make ends meet until his tracks returned back to the place it had all begun: into Ishgard.

“And what else did he meet there, except a hauntingly familiar stranger, who was the striking image of his late mother. So much so, in fact, that he was so taken aback by the sight that he walked right into her without even realizing.” Were it not for the intense focus she had on not acknowledging the sudden nausea, Amandine would have already followed up on her promise of clobbering him.  

It felt like several minutes had passed before she actually felt like she could breathe again. “If I’ve been following this winding story correctly,” Amandine began with a very forced calm in her tone, “Then I am your sibling.”

He nodded once. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 

Halone forgive me, this may be my stupidest decision yet. She took her hand off of her staff, and crossed her arms. “Then I am sure you will not refuse this most simple of requests,” she said, and let her arms fall to her sides. “And rest assured, I would be glad to help, should you be willing to accept.” 

His answer was already obvious, even before the words left his mouth. “I accept, then. This is the closest I’ve come to hope in a long, long time.”

“Very well.” Amandine smiled. “Prove it.” 

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Hi, first I just wanted to say that I love your reactions and they all are spot on! Anyway I put in an ask on anon a few weeks ago and I guess it didn’t go through? I was wondering how you think the companions would react if they encountered a feral ghoul that Sole recognized as a friend/family member from before the war. I’m so sorry to bother you again if you already saw the anon ask

Thanks so much, it means a bunch! 😊Yeah, weird. For some reason I didn’t get that request. But I got this one, so here it is! Not sure why I decided niece as the relation to Sole, but I did. Hope that’s okay! Long intro cuz I wanted to build up the mood. Please enjoy!😊

Fo4 Companions React: Sole Recognizing a Feral As Their Niece

Sole and their companion where exploring Suffolk Country Charter school when they were suddenly ambushed by a pack of pink ferals. Sole and their companion easily fought through the pack until there was only one remaining.

The feral made eye contact with Sole and for a brief moment, the creature’s eyes twinkled with life.

Those eyes looked familiar, and Sole could’ve recognized them anywhere. They belonged to their niece. That pink feral was their niece.

The moment between Sole and the feral disappeared as quickly as it came. The hostile ghoul charged at the unsuspecting Sole, fully prepared to attack.

Sole braced for impact when the ghoul suddenly collapsed in front of them, dead. Their companion had shot the creature. Sole cradled the feral in their arms and wept, explaining their relation to the ghoul to their companion.

Gage:

Gage furrowed his eyebrows, but did not approach his companion. He wanted to give them space. “Look boss. I’m sorry. Can’t even imagine how hard this is ta...ta deal with,” the raider began, “I just didn’t want things gettin outta hand. Didn’t want that ghoul messin ya up.“

Deacon:

Deacon frowned as he watched Sole weep over the ghoul’s dead body. He hated seeing his friend so upset. “Hey, pal. Don’t cry. We can find ya another feral. They’re pretty much an invasive species ‘round these parts!” Sole shot Deacon a stern look, not in the mood for his banter. Deacon nervously rubbed his arm, “Sorry. Not a good time for jokes.” He approached his partner and knelt down beside them, “I know this must be tough for you. I’m sorry about your loss. If you need me, I’m right here.”

Codsworth:

“That was— oh. I can’t believe it. To think such a sweet girl became such a wretched creature...” Codsworth sniffled, thinking about the weekends and holidays he, Sole, and the now-dead feral spent together as a family. The robot cleared his throat, “But the fact of the matter is the girl we loved dearly is not with us anymore. We...we just have to carry on, [sir/mum].”

Piper:

Piper knelt down next to Sole and outstretched her arms. Sole accepted the gesture and gave Piper a tight hug. “It’s okay Blue,” the reporter whispered, “I can’t even imagine how painful it must’ve been to see your niece like this. And I’m so, so, so sorry I shot her. I had no idea.”

MacCready:

“[Name]...” MacCready began, cautiously kneeling down beside Sole, “I’m really sorry I shot your niece. I...I didn’t know. I just saw a feral in attack mode and I just...reacted. I’m paranoid about that kinda stuff after what happened with Lucy. I’m really sorry.”

X6-88:

X6 approached his sobbing companion and stood beside them. He knew they needed space, so he kept a slight distance. “My deepest sympathies, [sir/ma’am]. It must be hard seeing someone you were once close to in this tragic state.” Sole sniffled and X6 continued, “I apologize. But I was not going to let that feral kill you, [sir/ma’am]. That wouldn’t be right.”

Curie:

Curie teared up as she saw her friend mournfully cradling the body of the small ghoul. She approached Sole and knelt down beside them. “[Madame/Monsieur], I am so sorry. I did not know your relation,” she paused, “When humans feel strong emotions, they like hugs, non? Would you like a—“ before the synth could finish her question, Sole clung onto the Curie, crying into her shirt. Curie smiled faintly as she held onto Sole tightly, “It’s all going to be okay, [Madame/Monsieur].”

Danse:

Danse knelt down besides Sole and silently watched the all-to-familiar scene of them mourn over the death of a bestialized loved one. “My condolences, soldier,” Danse began, “I completely understand how you are feeling. Just remember that feral was not your niece; it was merely an entity that your niece was trapped inside of. She was not the same person you knew.” Sole looked woefully at Danse and the Paladin furrowed his eyebrows, “It’ll be alright. She’s free now.”

Cait:

“She was gone, darlin. That mad creature wasn’t the little lady ye knew in life. We had no other choice,” the redhead reassured, “I wasn’t about to let her rip the stuffin outta ye.” Cait took a few steps toward her mourning companion, but kept a slight distance. She wanted to give them space. “If anythin we put the poor thing to peace. Couldn’t imagin livin centuries as a feral.”

Hancock:

“Hey,” Hancock began, kneeling beside Sole and gently rubbing their back, “I know this ain’t easy for you to take in. But I could see it in her eyes: she was set on attacking you. I couldn’t let you die.” Sole looked at their companion, and then looked back at the feral, letting out a slight whimper. Hancock knew he couldn’t do much else for Sole than to be there for them in this dark moment. “I know it’s a tough pill to swallow, friend. I’m sorry.”

Preston:

Preston blinked back a few tears as he sorrowfully watched his companion weep over the limp body of the feral. It hurt him to see Sole this upset. He approached Sole and knelt down beside them, giving them a supportive touch on their arm, “General, I...I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realize you had such a strong connection to that ghoul. I didn’t want it to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Strong:

“Why human cry over ghoul? Still no understand,” Strong muttered, warily watching his companion from a distance. “Strong sorry to see human so sad. Here, Take meat,” the super mutant insisted, handing Sole a smelly mole rat carcass, “Meat make Strong happy. Maybe meat make human happy too.”

Longfellow:

“People come. People go. That’s the bitter harshness of the sea of life,” Longfellow kept his distance, but firmly looked at his partner, “As Walden once said: ‘Things don’t change; we change.’ Your relationship with your niece wasn’t what changed. After the bombs dropped, both of you were different people. But as for her...she unfortunately became a feral.” Sole blankly stared at the old man, and he sighed, “The moral here is that feral is not your niece. Certainly not in body, but neither in mind. If anything, we freed the poor lass’s soul.”

Ada:

“[Sir/Ma’am]? I apologize for the loss of your niece,” Ada continued, “I understand you must be feeling strong emotions right now. I have determined that the ghoul’s brain mass was only 0.137% of what it was before the bombs dropped. She only had 1/10th of a brain stem left, if that even.” Sole looked at Ada mournfully. “She was not the same person you knew, [sir/ma’am]. Her brain has rotted to the point of no return. If anything, we freed her from a bodily prison.”

Nick:

Nick approached his mourning friend, initially careful to keep his distance. “Mind if I join you?” Sole nodded and the detective knelt beside them. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you. To lose someone close to you is one thing, but to recognize them as a feral...that’s something else. My condolences.” The pair sat in silence for a few moments as Sole cried. When they had finally calmed down a bit, Nick put a supportive hand on their shoulder, “Just remember: if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

[frozenartscapes]

Snow and Sunshine - Night

AN: This will be at least a three-parter. I’ve got those three parts completed, anyway. This is arguably the most important fic in this AU, solely because it signifies the start of Elsa’s relationship with her daughter. Anna plays a key role here as Elsa’s main support pillar, using her typical Anna charm to help ease her sister’s mind. I actually had quite a bit of fun writing their banter. Hope you guys enjoy!

---

It had been three weeks since Prince Johannes of the Apline Islands had been tragically lost at sea. The husband to Queen Elsa of Arendelle had been returning to his home nation to finish up some business with his father in person when his ship was caught in a storm, and all on board were taken by the sea. Such were the hazards of sailing in March.

Queen Elsa held a funeral service for her husband in Arendelle. The whole kingdom, along with representatives from neighbouring nations, attended. The people were quick to offer the Queen, who by then was visibly pregnant with the future heir to the throne, their sympathies and condolences. Everyone expected her to be deeply affected by the loss, for losing a loving husband so early into the marriage is a heartbreaking thing.

Except, Elsa had not married Johannes for love. The Apline Islands had been threatened for years by the nations around them and they needed to show that their alliance with one as powerful as Arendelle was more than just something on a piece of paper. Despite their size, they were a wealthy nation and a good ally, but they could not properly defend themselves. Johannes, the third son of the King of the Aplines, was about the same age as Arendelle’s young Queen. And marriage into Arendelle’s royal family would not only be beneficial to him, but it would also guarantee Arendelle’s defensive support should the Aplines ever need it. Arendelle would have another solid alliance with a wealthy, mineral-rich kingdom that currently was fully embracing the industrial revolution and all the innovation that came with it.

And Elsa refused to allow Anna to accept the marriage instead, not when she and Kristoff loved each other so.

Johannes was a nice enough man, but he was pushy. Arrogant, at times. Stubborn, most of the time. Once he got something in his head, it was impossible to change his mind. And as a result, he and Elsa had butted heads quite frequently. In fact, their last argument had been about his fateful trip: Elsa had warned him about the dangers of sailing in the waters off Arendelle’s coast in March, and he refused to believe there was a danger.

It was safe to say that Elsa did not love Johannes. And while she still mourned his loss, it wasn’t in the way people expected her to. She mourned him no differently than she mourned all the men on his ship that night - as lives taken too soon, as young men with families who will never get to see them again, as people who suffered terrifying and agonizing deaths in the icy waters of the North Sea. She did not mourn him as her husband.

And, as she sat at her office desk, unable to focus on her work but instead on her ever-growing belly, she mourned him being around to offer assistance - as limited as it was going to be - with what comes next. With the last few months of pregnancy. With giving birth. With raising the child. Elsa had become increasingly aware that she was in this alone, now. Even if she no longer had a husband, her life could never go back to the way it was. She had a child on the way - a child that never would have existed if she had things her way.

“You’re brooding again.”

Elsa looked up to see Anna at the door. Her sister didn’t need an invitation to come further into the room. “S...sorry, I just...” Elsa said as Anna approached. She trailed off with a heavy sigh, looking down at her abdomen again in defeat.

“Come on,” Anna said, holding out a hand to help her sister up, “Let’s move to the couch where it’s comfier.”

“But I still have work to do,” Elsa protested weakly.

“It can wait,” Anna told her, “Besides, you weren’t doing it when I walked in - that means it was less important than your brooding.”

Elsa shot her sister a look, but wordlessly held out her hand. Anna took it, and with a small grunt, pulled her sister up. “You’re getting heavy,” she commented lightly.

“I’m not getting heavy,” Elsa argued, “The baby is.”

Anna scoffed playfully. “You and your technicalities,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

They headed over to the couch by the fireplace. Once she was sure Elsa was settled, Anna plunked down beside her. They sat in silence for a moment, savouring the warmth from the fire and each other’s company.

Anna was the first to break it: “So… How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve got a tiny human growing inside of me,” Elsa answered bluntly.

“Speaking of… Are they… Have they moved recently?” Anna asked with curiosity.

Elsa responded by taking her sister’s hand and placing it on her belly. Anna gasped in excitement when she felt a little kick from inside. “They always move around for you,” Elsa told her, “I think they like to hear your voice.”

“Well that’s not a surprise, considering you’re their Mama,” Anna said with a laugh, “Of course they’d be a show-off like you.”

Elsa smiled, but it faded as her gaze fell upon her growing abdomen. She let out a heavy sigh as she absentmindedly placed a hand next to Anna’s.

Anna frowned in concern, taking her hand away to give her sister some space. “How are you really feeling?” she asked again, this time with more seriousness in her tone.

Elsa swallowed hard and blinked back a few tears. “Scared,” she uttered softly.

Anna bit her lip in worry. “I know I’m probably not the best help,” she admitted, “What with me, you know, not being a mother in any way, but… My point is: I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but it’s going to be ok. You’ll be fine, El—”

“Please don’t say it like that!” Elsa interrupted, her eyes screwed shut and her teeth clenched. Frost started to creep along the floor at her feet. “P…Papa said… Before…”

“Sorry!” Anna said quickly, “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She silently kicked herself for the slip up. Elsa had told her once, off-hand, about their parents’ final words to her. It hadn’t meant much to Elsa before, but as her due date grew closer and things just seemed to keep getting worse, those words started to trigger Elsa’s anxiety every time she heard them.

Sighing heavily, Anna tried again: “You’ve got the doctor, and Gerda - who was there for both of our births. And we found the best midwives in the kingdom. Pabbie and Bulda have also given us some good advice, particularly about the possibility of magic being involved. We’ve taken everything into account. You’ve got the kingdom’s support.” She took Elsa’s hand, then, and gave it a firm squeeze. “And you have me. I’m not gonna leave your side. Not now, not when you’re the size of a whale, and not once you give birth to a beautiful baby boy or girl. We’ll get through this together, alright?”

Elsa sniffled and reciprocated the hand squeeze. She then turned, offering Anna a teary smile. “I’m not going to be the size of a whale,” she choked out with a small laugh.

Anna chuckled and gently prodded her sister’s belly. “You’re already pretty big,” she observed, “And you’ve still got a few months to go. Maybe you won’t be a whale but definitely a horse.”

With that, a large ball of soft, powdery snow appeared above Anna’s head and dropped down on top of her with a low whump. Anna leapt off the couch in surprise and struggled to free the snow that had gone down the back of her dress. After taking care of that, she shook the snow out of her hair, and stated lightly: “No fair! I’m not allowed to retaliate against you right now!”

Elsa patted her baby bump with a smug smile. “Can’t risk any sudden surprises or over-exertion,” she said simply.

“You are such a dork,” Anna teased, “Now is it too much to ask you to remove the snow so I can sit down again?”

With a lazy wave of her hand, Elsa cleared the snow away into thin air. Anna sat back down again and made herself comfy. She put extra emphasis on pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and tugging it over herself and her sister. Elsa rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics.

After another moment of silence, Elsa asked quietly: “Will I be a good mother?”

Anna shot her sister a disbelieving look. “You’re an amazing sister,” she assured her, “And you’re an incredible Queen. I think it’s safe to say you’ll be the best mother out there.”

“But what if…” Elsa trailed off, her face shadowed by fear and worry.

“Don’t worry about not knowing what to do,” Anna told her, “No one really knows how to be a mother the first time around. At least, that’s what Gerda always says…”

“No, it’s not that… It’s…” Elsa drew a deep breath and released it slowly, struggling to find a way to phrase things in the least heartless way possible. “I didn’t love Johannes,” she said in a low voice, “You know that. I didn’t even cry at his funeral. I couldn’t. I just… What if I feel the same about…”

Anna gulped nervously, eyeing the subject of her sister’s concern. “Elsa,” she began carefully, earnestly, “I say this with the utmost certainty: you have a heart bigger than anyone I know. I know you can’t make people love others, but I know you. You’ll give your child as much love as you do anyone else, at least. But I have a feeling you’ll love them with all your heart and then some.”

Elsa bit her lip in worry, refusing to look at Anna and keeping her eyes fixed on her pregnant belly. “But I don’t…feel that way now,” she admitted in a low voice, hanging her head in shame, “This has been hard, Anna. First there was the morning sickness, and the food cravings, and the sore muscles. I’m tired, more than I ever thought I would be. It’s…it’s weird. I don’t recognize my body anymore. I feel the baby move inside and I don’t feel joy it’s just…discomfort. I never wanted this.”

“Elsa…”

“But it’s not fair,” Elsa continued, clenching both hands into tight fists as frustration entered her voice, “It wasn’t fair to Johannes. I was so cold, distant… I never meant to be I just… I didn’t know how to accept him into my life, especially after how much he had changed it. It wasn’t his fault - not really. He was forced into that marriage just as much as I was. But I just couldn’t… Especially after that night when…” She trailed off. Anna noticed she was trembling, but she couldn’t tell if it was in anger or anxiety. “He was so insistent on having an heir…”

Anna remembered that night, or rather, the following morning. Elsa had been the furthest thing from herself. She wasn’t even like how she had been before. She was just…blank. Expressionless. Emotionless. But it wasn’t like she had been forcing it. The only hint of emotion she gave was a sharp flinch when Johannes touched her shoulder as he came into the dining room for breakfast. Anna had managed to pry it out of her sister after getting her alone, and once told it took Elsa freezing her feet to the floor to keep her from ripping the Prince apart. She had never been more angry with anyone, including Hans, but Elsa insisted it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. She hadn’t wanted to, but she knew where her duty lay. She knew she had to. And after enough of this well-rehearsed spiel, Anna finally could be released from the floor.

A few weeks later was when Elsa found out that she had, in fact, done her duty as a female monarch.

“After what he did, I’d say you were plenty fair,” Anna told her sister with a subtle hint of disdain for the dead.

“Not to him,” Elsa corrected, “I wasn’t fair to him, either but it’s really not fair to…the baby. They really didn’t get a say in any of this. They’re just…a result of what happened. But they’re also going to be a person. A person with feelings and thoughts and needs and wants but what if I can’t see that? What if I only see them as a reminder of what happened? What if they look like him? Or they act like him? What if…I do to them what I did to him? What if I can’t love them?”

“I…don’t know,” Anna replied slowly, “I don’t think this is something that can be easily answered. You might just have to follow your heart.”

Elsa released a heavy sigh. She drew her hands close and looked down at them in an all-too-familiar gesture. “For most of my life, I thought I was worthless, that I didn’t deserve to be loved,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly, “Yet I knew I was. You, Mama, Papa… I knew you loved me, even if I didn’t show it to you. Even if I still hid from you, pulled away, refused to touch you, look at you, I…I knew. I knew I was worth something to you.

“But what if the opposite happens?” she asked, desperation coming out in her tone, “What if I don’t show the child love? Or they pick up that I don’t? What if they grow up knowing I don’t love them? That no matter what they do or how much love they try to give me they just can’t…”

Anna reached over and worked Elsa’s hands into hers. She shot her a reassuring smile, and said softly, “The fact that you’re worried about this tells me that that won’t happen. I know you’re going through a lot right now and it’s probably a mess of emotions in that head of yours but something tells me that, deep in your heart, you already love your baby. I don’t think they’ll ever wonder if you care about them or not.”

“Anna,” Elsa began tentatively, still not believing her sister’s words.

“In fact, I bet I can prove it,” Anna said with determination. She rested a hand on her sister’s abdomen, and with a gentle pat, said, “What do you think, little one? Do you think your Mama cares about you? Kick once for yes, twice for no.”

“Anna this isn’t going to prove—” Elsa was cut short by a relatively sharp kick to the stomach, enough that she let out a small, involuntary grunt.

“Ha! See?” Anna insisted happily.

“They’ve been kicking me in the stomach for a while now. It was just a coincidence,” Elsa replied in annoyance.

“Fine. How about kick twice for yes, once for no.”

“Anna: a premature baby still a couple of months away from being born is not capable of answering questions, let alone actually understanding the point of said questions in the first place. I doubt it can even hear you clearly enough to—”

Once again, the child growing inside her cut her words short, this time when it clearly kicked against her belly twice before going still once more. Anna, who still had a hand on her stomach, shot her a very smug, victorious smile.

“That was still likely just a coincidence,” Elsa said, although she sounded far less sure of the statement this time.

“Sure it was,” Anna agreed sarcastically, “How about we go for three kicks mean yes?”

“I’d rather not encourage the baby to treat me like a punching bag, thank you,” Elsa stated dryly.

“Ah ha! So you do believe it!”

“No, I just…” Elsa huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms across her chest in defeat. To add insult to injury, the baby kicked again. Three times.

“See?” Anna said, dropping the teasing tone in her voice and adding sincerity, “You have nothing to worry about.”

Elsa glanced down at her belly before levelling her sister a concerned look. “I really hope you’re right,” she said quietly.

Anna’s smile broadened into a very confident, knowing grin. “I usually am about this kind of thing,” she stated simply.

[vagrantblvrd]

No Future Past Tomorrow (1/1)

Summary: These are the things Ryan knows about soulmates:

1. Everyone has one. (Except for the people who don’t, but no one talks about that.)

2. There’s a whole industry built up around it. (Because capitalism.)

3. Everyone gets their happily ever after. (Except for the people who don’t, but no one talks about that either.)

Notes: Prompt fill for @queen-bitchiest who wanted Myan and soulmarks and then Things Happened. :D?

(Read on AO3)

These are the things Ryan knows about soulmates:

1. Everyone has one. (Except for the people who don’t, but no one talks about that.)

2. There’s a whole industry built up around it. (Because capitalism.)

3. Everyone gets their happily ever after. (Except for the people who don’t, but no one talks about that either.)

There are other things Ryan knows about soulmates.

The fact some people are born with their soulmate’s name written on their skin, and some gain a soulmark later in life. Some have ugly black smears on their skin where their soulmate’s name is supposed to be because life isn’t like the movies and sometimes people miss their soulmates. (Born too soon or not late enough. Maybe the life is more unfair than you thought and they die young, leaving you with their name blacked out and this ache in your chest for what could have been.)

He knows being soulmates doesn’t guarantee happiness and love because his parents were soulmates and they hated each other. Fought just about every damn day of his life he can remember, loud shouting matches and hurled dishes and crockware. Slamming doors and cold, heavy silence that filled the house like smoke in a burning house.

This bitter anger and resentment to them about the lives they could have had cut short because of their soulmarks.

Fate and Destiny and their kid who tied them to a shitty little town in the south because that’s what you do when you have a kid. You sweep all your hopes and dreams into the gutter and hunker down to take care of the little shit, because that’s how it goes. (Or maybe they were wrong, but the damage was done years ago and Ryan gets to carry that with him wherever he goes.)

For the longest time he thinks he’s been lucky enough to dodge that bullet. No name indelibly inked into his skin meant to guide him to his soulmate, and it’s -

It’s a relief, because even after his parents die in a car accident when he’s a kid he still remembers the anger in their voices. The way they twisted something meant to be a good thing into something so ugly. (How terrified it made him, checking again and again and again just to make sure he didn’t have one.)

But then he goes into the foster system, gets bounced all over the place because he’s different.

Quiet and solemn, and no soulmark – a freak - even though it’s widely accepted that most soulmarks don’t appear until puberty at the earliest.

It’s an excuse, flimsy as it is, for people who can’t, won’t understand the ten-eleven-twelve-why bother keeping track year-old kid who they let into their home. Look at him and his situation and think about how kind, compassionate it will make them seem to others, taking him in out of the goodness of their heart. (Poor little orphan without a name on his skin, so tragic.)

Making a token effort to get to know him before realizing kids are work, and Ryan, strange little Ryan more than they imagined. (Kindles that little spark of anger, deep in his chest he inherited from his parents, each new set of foster parents who take him in adding fuel to the fire.)

Puberty hits, and when his soulmark doesn’t appear it gets harder and harder for the social workers to place him into a suitable home.

(No one talks about it, but there’s a bias towards those who don’t have a soulmark.)

When he’s fourteen, there’s a program, and he’s sent to the Midwest.

Somewhere with corn, or something like that, he doesn’t care about the details. (Doesn’t expect to be there long.)

He gets placed with a family that has another foster kid like his staying with them. Precocious little brat with dark hair and dark eyes and all these questions about the world and how it works.

The moment he meets them, Ryan knows he has no place there in their happy little family, but they bring him into their lives anyway.

Give him his own room and let him settle in at his own pace and he’s just so tired after being moved from place to place for so long he doesn’t have energy to be angry about things anymore.

Their little boy watches Ryan with wide eyes, uncertain about this stranger taking up space in his home, and Ryan doesn’t blame him.

Keeps his distance and careful not to infringe. Doesn’t want to scare the kid or risk getting attached because Ryan knows something this good can’t last, but the little brat has other ideas once he gets over his initial wariness.

All wide eyes and this hopeful little “Ryan, Ryan, come look at the stars with me tonight, please?” one day.

He’s only allowed to stargaze if there’s someone there to keep an eye on him, so Ryan knows it’s more self-interest than anything else, but he gives in anyway.

Ryan’s a feet on the ground sort of person. Life lessons and just the way things go, but he does some reading, learns about things he has a passing interest in if at all just so he can sit on the back deck with the brat and point at the constellations.

“That’s Orion.”

He starts with an easy one and bites back a grin when he gets a withering look and a snarky little “I know that one already, Ryan. It’s in my book,” and moves on to Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Tries not to laugh when the brat crosses his arms and pouts at him because Ryan promised to teach him the ones he doesn’t already know.

“Alright, alright,” he says, resists the urge to smooth the brat’s hair down because it’s always this wild mess, chaotic as the thoughts and ideas crowding his head. “Why don’t you tell me the ones you know so I know where to pick up?”

The brat gives him this look like he thinks Ryan’s just humoring him. There’s hurt in there because he’s so damn smart, but no one seems to realize just how smart he is and for whatever reason thought Ryan would be different.

After a moment he sighs and points out constellations from the book he’s shown to Ryan. Big hardcover with beautiful pictures of the night sky and beyond and more consideration for someone’s interest Ryan’s seen so far in life.

He knows it can’t last, that it’s too good for him, but goddamn does he wish it could.

========

Ryan’s sixteen when he sees it.

Almost misses it, glancing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror after a shower. Blood freezing in his veins when he does, hand shaking as he wipes condensation off the glass and leans closer to see better.

Bold black script curled around the back of his neck spelling out a name, and there’s no conscious thought to it when his fist goes through the mirror.

He can’t even put a name to the emotions he’s feeling as he stares at the shattered glass, fragmented images of a wide-eyed teenager staring back.

His little brother (not-brother, not) knocking on the door to ask if he’s okay and their foster parents (not his) shushing him while they try to coax Ryan to open the door.

Worry and concern and Ryan closes his eyes and focuses on getting himself under control because this  – he always knew it wouldn’t last. (Broken, wrong.)

========

Ryan knows what it takes to be a problem.

Being himself worked for a while, but then came this program and Indiana and this mismatched family that somehow worked.

But now -

That anger he could ignore, shove down deep, it’s back.

All those memories of his parents and all their arguments. The yelling, the fighting. The resentment. Anger so bright it hurt to look at.

He remembers their funeral.

All the adults offering him their condolences because it’s what you do in that kind of situation. Brave smiles on their faces and telling him he looked just like them, spitting image. All the ways he was their child, took after them and the fear he felt taking root because they didn’t know. (His parents saved the fighting, the anger, for home. Played happy family where others could see.)

And now there’s a name on the back of his neck like a collar, a chain, heavy and choking and why? Why now?

He thinks about it, what it means to be his parents’ kid.

The bitter anger and resentment because they’d found their soulmate, and it ruined them.

Worries what will happen if (when?) he finds his soulmate because he doesn’t want that kind of life, can barely manage to get through the one he has now.

Thinks about his little (not-brother, never his) brother and how he doesn’t want him to know what Ryan really is.

He gets in fights.

Bigger, stronger than the other kids and he’s got anger behind it.

Gets in fights and ignores his foster parents when they try to help (all wrong, because they care) and people take notice.

Worry about Ryan’s little brother, the other kids the foster parents want to bring into their lives and it’s -

It’s a goodbye in the middle of the night because Ryan’s brother (not-brother) is still so smart.

It’s Ryan and the bag on his back and all these words choking him because it was nice, for a little while. (A year, two, and long enough to think maybe his parents were wrong about everything, so of course it wouldn’t last.)

It’s Ryan and the money he’s saved from little jobs here there. Lawns mowed, sidewalks shoveled.

Small things to help out, make him less of a burden and gently refused because no, honey, no, that’s not what this is about. (A bank account that will never be opened in his name, but that’s fine, it’s okay. No paper trail.)

Ryan leaves, promises to write his brother but knows that won’t last either. Harder to disappear if someone has your address.

He keeps up with it for the first month, lets it trail off until he stops writing altogether and swallows the guilt and regret down deep. (More fuel for that anger deep in his chest, blaze waiting to catch fire.)

========

Ryan doesn’t stop moving once he starts.

Just goes and goes and goes wherever he can, however he can.

Hitches rides with the lost and the lonely on their way to somewhere. Friendly truckers looking for someone to listen to the stories they’ve told a hundred times before.

Has a few run-ins with assholes and creeps who see a kid on their own on the side of the road and get ideas. (You’ve got such a pretty face and it’s so lonely on the road kid, what d’ya say?)

Ryan’s never broken anyone’s jaw before but he can’t say he regrets it.

He starts carrying a knife after that. Cheap little thing he picks up at a gas station somewhere in Nebraska with a bald eagle etched into the handle.

Tacky as hell, but it saves his life enough times for him not to mind as much.

Ryan grows his hair out to keep people from asking about the letters on his neck, want to know whose name he carries around with him. Starts dyeing it black when he ends up in one of the Dakotas and he catches a segment on the new. Police sketch of someone with his face wanted for aggravated assault of a good samaritan who picked up a hitchhiker. (Calls in an anonymous tip, tells them they should look a little deeper into their good samaritan’s story and they might know why someone broke his fucking jaw.)

Life blurs together after that, Ryan slipping deeper and deeper into the wrong side of life and that anger in him grows and grows and grows with everything he does just to get by until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

========

Los Santos -

It’s a cesspool.

It’s wild and mean, plays for keeps.

Ryan’s still a kid when he gets there, nineteen going on twenty and tired down to his bones, but the anger keeps him going.

He’s got scars now, souvenirs from fights and scuffles and the work he’s been doing. Playing muscle for assholes here and there for a handful of cash before he moves on.

Hair long enough to pull back into a ponytail, cover up the name branded on his skin to the point he can almost forget about it. Still dyes it, although it’s more out of habit than anything else. (Bigger and better crimes he’s wanted for and the memory of his first kill still haunting him.)

Easy to lose himself there, carve out a little niche for himself.

Works for the same guy for a while. Old cranky bastard who shows him the ropes here in Los Santos, calls him a Vagabond when Ryan offers a little bit about his past.

Places he’s been, things he’s seen. (Gets called a Vagabond, and it sticks.)

Realizes, when people don’t take him seriously – still got a pretty face, still breaking jaws and worse, because he’s got all these knives now, and his aim is nothing to sneeze at – he needs to do something about that.

The mask is a joke at first.

Ryan with a few extra bucks burning a hole in his pocket wandering along Vespucci and a little shop that catches his eye.

It’s fall, and there’s a horror movie playing in theaters and Ryan figures why not?

He wears it the next time someone hires him to handle a problem of theirs, some asshole in La Mesa who owes money and no intent to pay it back and send a message, would you? Louder the better.

Ryan gets incredulous laughter and hurled insults, the asshole just gets dead.

And then the rumors start, because it was a foggy night out. Someone remembers seeing a skull mask, and there’s a monster out there cutting people down, better watch your back or you might be next.

He wears the mask when he’s working after that, and the face paint happens later. People stop laughing when they see him coming because Ryan gets better. (Watch out or the Vagabond will get you.)

========

Years pass and the anger settles into something Ryan can finally breathe around.

He learns to pick his jobs, pay attention to the power plays in motion. The way the city moves and breathes, crime in its blood and rotten to its core.

Isn’t surprised when Ramsey comes looking for him to build up that crew of his. (He’s not the first.)

What is surprising is the way he goes about it.

No expectations, demands.

Just a simple offer, and Ryan?

He’s curious. (Bored.)

Agrees to that first job, and the one after that and so on until he’s in too deep to back out.

Likes the way Geoff runs the crew, the way they give him grief for everything he does but stand with him every step of the way.

It’s...fascinating.

Different from anything he’s seen in Los Santos.

Shouldn’t work at all, but somehow does and there’s a part of him that wants some of that for himself. (Little house in Indiana and the night sky spread out above him, stars shining down and a voice naming the constellations.)

So he stays on and gets to know the others.

Geoff and Jack with their hands full keeping the others in line.

Michael unapologetic about everything he is and this look to him like he would go toe-to-toe with Ryan if he even thought about fucking them over.

Gavin with his everything, so damned annoying and painfully brilliant. (Smart and clever and more capable than he lets on.)

Ray, who comes and goes as he pleases and deadlier than Ryan any day of the week.

Jeremy and his everything that included garish color combinations and a cowboy hat, because why not?

Lindsay who is just this side of terrifying, because she’s the most chaotic person Ryan’s met in his entire life and then some.

A whole slew of others Geoff reassures him he’ll meet at some point because they’re assholes and like knows like, and other flattering things.

It’s the closest thing to family Ryan’s had in a long time and he knows it can’t last, but he’s tired of roaming the streets of Los Santos like a specter. (Wants somewhere to rest once in a while.)

========

Geoff’s a meddler.

Claims he isn’t, but he’s not as smooth as he likes to think he is. Pairs Gavin and Jeremy up on jobs every chance he gets and rationalizes it away by saying Jeremy keeps Gavin focused. (He’s not wrong, but it’s not the only deciding factor involved.)

“They’ll figure it out eventually,” Michael says, wry twist to his mouth as they watch Gavin and Jeremy argue about the best way to hotwire a car.

They’ve got overwatch while the other idiots get the car Geoff wants for the upcoming heist. Dull little soccer-mom car, won’t draw any attention and slow as hell.

Older make and model, and a snap to steal.

Or would be, but there are a lot of hand gestures and squawking from Gavin. Snarky quips from Jeremy and this headache right behind Ryan’s eyes, because they’re two of the densest, oblivious assholes he’s ever met.

“You’d think,” he says, and leans against the railing to watch the show play out.

Gavin’s got a name curling around his ribs, snug up against his heart.

Ryan saw it once, covered in blood and Gavin making these pained noises because a cop got lucky and they almost lost him in the back of a stolen van. Jack barking orders and Michael pale-faced and grim, Jeremy driving like a bat out of hell and fear Ryan hadn’t felt in a long, long time crowding his throat because he liked these idiots.

Jeremy doesn’t have a name.

Drunken confession from him after they got Gavin stabilized, Michael asleep in the chair next to his bed and Jeremy’s hands shaking and Ryan at a loss as to what to say to make things better, so he listened. Leaned all about the angry black smear across Jeremy’s shoulder blade, the phantom pain he gets in the cold sometimes.

Gavin’s got a name and Jeremy doesn’t and it’s been a hell of a ride watching them dance around one another.

Makes Ryan uneasy, but no one else seems too bothered about the potential for disaster.

Michael doesn’t seem too bothered, and Ryan’s willing to trust Michael’s judgment when it comes to anything involving Gavin.

========

Michael tinkers.

Turned a room in one of the lower floors into a workshop where he cooks up explosives he uses on heists. The jobs Gavin or one of the others comes up with from time to time.

At the moment he’s got a row of rubber duckies set out on one of his worktables and a series of sketches on what looks to be a bar napkin.

“Look,” Michael says, when he catches Ryan’s totally non-judgmental reaction. Pauses when he realizes there’s no good explanation for any of this. “…Fuck off.”

Ryan hmms as he puts the napkin down, pokes one of the duckies on its beak.

He’s...not bored so much as restless, and Michael’s good company when Ryan’s in a mood like this.

Will either focus on what he’s working on and leave Ryan to his own devices -

“Fucking what the fuck?” Michael mutters to himself, because he has a row of rubber duckies and drunk sketches to go off of. “What the fuck?”</i>

- or he’ll talk to himself like a lunatic and provide Ryan with hours of entertainment.

They’ve come a long way from the early days. Time when all Michael had to go on about Ryan were the stories and rumors that have turned the Vagabond into one of Los Santos’ very own cryptids. Always looking for signs Ryan was about to turn on the crew, just another bloody story to add to the rest.

“Should I ask?” Ryan asks, because he’s an asshole and Michael is hilarious when he gets like this.

Determined to turn some harebrained idea someone had into a reality, and going by the fact rubber duckies are involved, this is Gavin’s doing.

Something he saw somewhere once, or heard a story from a friend and wouldn’t it be wicked, Michael, if we did something like that? (Stars in his eyes and Michael more of a pushover than he’d ever admit.)

Michael shoots him a glare, but since he doesn’t yell at Ryan to get the fuck out of his workshop, Ryan figures he’s good to stay and heckle.

Gently.

“Go to hell, Ryan,” Michael says, but there's a smile curling his lips and this warm sort of amusement in his voice and Ryan chuckles at it, because he never gets tired of hearing it.

Gavin and Jeremy aren’t the only ones dancing around one another, but this – them – is a little more complicated.

Ryan’s old hangups and Michael’s everything.

Brash and loud, fearless in all the ways Ryan isn’t.

Someone’s name on his skin that got burned away years ago because this life isn’t kind and there are real monsters out there, far worse than Ryan. (Got a tattoo to cover up the scar tissue because he got tired of looking at it, but it doesn’t bother him.)

Shrugs it off as unimportant when someone brings up the matter of soulmates and soulmarks, the string of letters everyone looks for – excited and hopeful or terrified – that’s supposed to lead to their happily ever after.

”The way I see it,” Michael had said the one time Ryan heard him talk about it so bluntly. It’s bullshit, you know? Like what. Some fucking mystical force slaps a name on you and that’s it? You spend your life looking for some asshole you don’t even know and everything's supposed to be rainbows and sunshine? Fuck out of here with that.”

Not the most eloquent way to put it, but Michael had been drunk at the time, working to put Jeremy under the table thanks to one of Gavin’s bets, and honestly, Ryan doesn’t even know with this crew half the time.

He and the others never ask Ryan if he has a name, don’t ask if he’s still looking. Don’t really talk about the whole thing unless it’s a hypothetical of Gavin’s or alcohol has loosened their tongues, and even then, even then it’s different.

A courtesy, almost, for the ones like Geoff who’s covered himself in tattoos to camouflage the lack of a name inked into his skin. Jack who smiles politely and tells no lies. Gavin who guarded his name like a dragon with its hoard until that was taken from him by a lucky bullet. Jeremy with a grin on his face and no name marring his skin (just an angry black smear where one used to be), but like hell does he let it hold him back.)

========

The name on the back of Ryan’s neck isn’t uncommon. The last time he checked (years and years ago) there were at least four million people in the US who shared it.

Have to be more now, the world being what it is and people being who they are.

He’d have a hell of a time trying to find someone in all of that, spend who knows how many lifetimes looking if he even wanted to.

(Part of him scared as hell at the prospect even now. Memory of his parents and the misery they made of the own lives, let bleed over into his all these years later so damn vivid.)

He’s happy here in Los Santos when he never thought he could be again.

Has a family in every definition of the word that matters, people he cares about. (Who care about him.)

It’s not a perfect life because he can’t see a good end in store for himself, but he’s learning to take what he can get for as long as he can and be grateful for it. (Just a little longer and he’ll have it down.)

========

He stumbles on the two of them by accident. Headed down to the garage to look for his phone that must have fallen out of his pocket during the getaway chase portion of the heist earlier and ducks around a support pillar when he hears voices.

Quiet, serious, the way they rarely are.

Jeremy and Gavin and -

“I love you.”

Jeremy, heart in Gavin’s hands and a million reasons why this thing between him and Gavin’s shouldn’t work. (Fate. Destiny. Call it whatever you want, there’s something to it people can’t fight no matter how hard they try because Gavin’s got a name that isn’t Jeremy’s and Jeremy’s lost his and this is why, this is why.)

There’s a heavy silence, and Ryan closes his eyes. Tips his head back and wishes like hell he wasn’t here to bear witness to this.

Gavin say something too low for Ryan to hear. Jeremy answers.

All Ryan hears are the crickets. (It’s summer and the little bastards are everywhere.)

“Gavin - “

There’s a shuffling sound, scuff of shoes on cement.

Gavin paces sometimes, too much going on in his head and all this energy to him that has to get out somehow.

“What.”

Short, sharp bark of sound from Jeremy and this quiet little laugh from Gavin.

Ryan leans around the pillar to look, and sees the two of them staring at each other.

Gavin’s biting his lip to keep from laughing like he clearly wants to, mischief and joy and something else written in every line of him. Jeremy’s staring at Gavin, open, vulnerable, and this smile slowly spreading over his face and Ryan’s missed something here.

“I - “

Gavin doesn’t get to finish whatever he was about to say because Jeremy's pushing forward, disbelieving laughter. This look on his face that equal parts exasperation and fondness and something like love. Hands coming up to frame Gavin’s face and Ryan decides he can look for his phone later, give the two of them some privacy.

========

“I told you,” Michael says when Ryan gets back up to the penthouse. Knowing grin on his face and Ryan’s phone in his hand. “And here, you left this in my Adder.”

He tosses Ryan’s phone to him, jerks his head to the game console because Ryan’s...jittery.

All the things he said he was past rising up to cast doubt on everything he thought he knew. (It can’t be that simple.)

“You want to do that rematch now, Rye-bread? I know your ego was bruised when I completely destroyed you last time, so I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

Cocky, arrogant, and this little curve to his mouth because he gets it, he does.

Knows how messed up Ryan is over the name branded on the back of his neck and how all these assholes go against everything Ryan thought he knew like it’s nothing.

“Like hell you will,” Ryan says, luckier than he deserves. “I’m going to make you eat those words.”

Michael snorts, gives him a look like he thinks Ryan’s an idiot (he’s not wrong) and won’t be walking away from their rematch the winner. (Reply hazy, try again.)

========

Every so often Ryan will catch Michael rubbing at his arm. The intricate tattoo over scar tissue, an old hurt that never healed right. It acts up when the weather changes and less tolerant of everyone’s bullshit.

Snaps and snarls a little harder, finds somewhere to go to ground until it passes.

Usually Gavin’s the one to seek him out, pull him out of his head and whatever thoughts sent him spiraling somewhere dark.

Provokes him until Michael’s yelling, real anger to his voice as he spews out all that ugliness that’s been left to fester too long.

Tonight -

Gavin’s back with the Roosters because he owes Burnie a favor or two, and Jeremy went with him as backup. (Gavin’s good, and God knows Burnie would never let anything happen to him if he could help it, but shit goes wrong and they all know it.)

Geoff took Jack with him to negotiate a new truce with the Fakehaus crazies, and it’s just Ryan in the penthouse with him.

Watches Michael head up to the roof, wound tight and hurting and Ryan is so beyond not qualified for this.

He still takes the stairs up there, steps out onto the roof to find Michael leaning against the low railing staring out at the city.

Ryan looks up out of habit. (House in Indiana and stars as far as the eye can see.)

Los Santos isn’t the place for stargazing. Too many lights, pollution, but every so often they shine through clear enough he can forget all that for a little while.

Michael glances at him when Ryan settles next to him at the railing.

Doesn’t tell him to fuck off, so Ryan figures he doesn’t mind him being here. He doesn’t know what to say to make things better (he never does), but Michael’s hurting and Ryan -

“I used to go stargazing with my little brother,” he says, only trips a little over that last word. Realized he’s a bigger idiot than he thought. “Fucker loved them.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, but Ryan knows he’s listening. Head tilted towards him the slightest bit, tension easing out of his shoulders.

Ryan’s told him about his brother before, one of the few still alive who do. Moment of weakness or whatever you want to call it. (Close call and everyone reevaluating their lives, people, things, they’ve left behind and why.)

Ryan points out a constellation, picks an easy one.

“That’s Orion,” he says, echoes of a better time even if he had a hard time recognizing it then.

He doesn’t know how much Michael knows about constellations or if he even cares. Decides if he’s not telling Ryan to shut the fuck up about them, it’s not hurting anything.

Ryan knows more of them than he did when he was just a dumb kid scrambling to keep up with the stupid smart kid brother of his. And he talks, and talks and talks and talks until his voice feels a little rough, sounds hoarse.

Points out constellation after constellation and the stories behind them, myth and legends and all that.

Rambles for a few when he thinks he spots a planet. Might be a satellite though, or maybe something else? It’s been a while since he looked this shit up, cut him some slack he’s not an astronomer, okay.

Michael snorts, shoots him this look. Soft smile and fondness to it that kicks Ryan in the heart, has him ducking his head.

“You fucking nerd, Ryan,” Michael says, the way he always does, and it means something Ryan’s always been a little afraid to put a name to.

Ryan shrugs, because Michael’s not wrong. Gives Michael this look, and doesn’t say a damn thing about it when Michael moves closer, shoulder brushing his and points to a little cluster of stars just over Chiliad.

“The fuck’s the deal with those ones?”

========

They say there’s this bolt of lightning moment, zap and you know when you meet your soulmate. Sparks or something like that, Ryan doesn’t know.

He’s never felt it, never expects to.

Thinks back to the first time he met Michael in a dingy warehouse down by the docks. Geoff in his suit, smug grin and so damned confident he could win Ryan over. Jack beside him, Ray watching through his sniper scope on a roof a few buildings away. Gavin watching him keen interest and a glint in his eye Ryan hadn’t learned to dread yet.

No Jeremy at the time, just those idiots meeting the big, bad Vagabond to have a little chat.

Geoff and his spiel, hopeful lilt to his words and a business card - “Call us if you interested, big guy. We could use someone like you.” - and tip of an imaginary hat as he left, the others following.

Michael walking up to him while Gavin watched, little grin on his face because he’s always been a menace. (The three of them alone, and Gavin having Michael’s back like it was never up for debate.)

“Look,” Michael had said, scowling up at him. “I don’t have a problem with you working with us, but if you even think about fucking us over? Don’t.”

Not a threat so much as a promise and it’s stuck with Ryan since then. In the back of his head when Geoff sent him out Michael to keep people in line. Let their rivals know the Fake AH Crew wouldn’t tolerate all the little insults thrown their way. Hold a refresher course to remind them.

Later on when they got paired up for other jobs, heist preps. Geoff telling them with this long-suffering look to him they were just about the only people he could trust not to fuck things up.

Because Jack on his own is solid. Throw Gavin into the mix and you get a taco truck where you wanted a box truck and those idiots laughing it up. (Geoff, no listen, Geoff, it’ll be brilliant.)

And on and on and on to the point they just. Worked well together, didn’t get sidetracked the way Gavin or Jack or even Geoff himself. Or at least not as much. (The times they did, though. Fantastic.)

Even when Jeremy joins the crew and Ryan finds a kindred spirit in him, because who doesn’t appreciate a little chaos now and then? There’s just something to working with Michael that Ryan likes.

It’s easy.

Michael gets him, knows Ryan’s a disaster and compensates for it without saying a word.

It’s not really a lie, because Michael will bitch about Ryan being a madman, but that’s more for show, because he’ll already be in position to cover his back or his flank. Take out whoever is trying to sneak up on Ryan without thinking about it. (Ryan does the same for Michael.)

And -

There are over four million Michaels out there, so what are the odds the name on the back of Ryan’s neck is meant for this one?

========

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Michael snarls, hand in the collar of Ryan’s jacket as he hauls him down, presses a wadded up shirt against the gash on his neck, something fragile under the anger. “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

They’re in a bolthole the crew uses when things turn to shit on them. Old building that’s falling apart, sign on the front claiming it’s slated for demolition any day now.

Michael’s looking a little wild-eyed, bottom lip split from a stray elbow and blood all over his hands as he keeps Ryan from bleeding out. (It’s a scratch.)

Ryan rolls his eyes because it’s not that bad. Got a little too close for comfort maybe, but the guy with the knife was an idiot who had no clue what he was doing.

Didn’t even have proper throwing knives, and the balance was all wrong. Dumb luck he hit what he was aiming for.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryan says, taking the hint when Michael grabs his hand and presses it to the shirt against his neck while Michael turns to dig through the first-aide kit. “Maybe something about saving you life? It was a blur.”

Michael stiffens.

Slowly lifts his head to glare at Ryan, the kind that would have killed a lesser man, or maybe someone smarter than Ryan, whichever.

“Ryan - “

Michael’s always had this confidence to him, like he wouldn’t stumble no matter what. Would just keep going and fuck whatever – whoever – gets in his way. Places to be, things to do, and fuck you if you think you’re gonna stop him.

Right now...not so much.

Right now he looks – he looks scared. Like the ground under his feet is suddenly treacherous, unstable, and he doesn’t know where is safe. If he takes the wrong step, everything crumbles, and he’s lost. He’s covering for it with bluster and anger and it hurts to see him like this.

“Hey,” Ryan says, nudges him with his knee. “I’m okay, Michael. I’m alright.”

Bleeding like a stuck pig, and he’ll have one hell of a scar, but it’s better than what could have been. (That spike of fear that settled in his stomach when Ryan saw that fucker going after Michael – it’s still there. Rolled over into this ball leaden and heavy in the pit of his stomach because Ryan’s never been good with what would have beens.)

Michael’s breathes out through his nose, hands clenching into fists before he shakes it off, reaches for that anger of his and shoves his fear down deep.

“You’re an asshole,” he mutters, low and tired in a way that resonates in Ryan’s bones. “And I fucking hate you.”

Ryan doesn’t laugh, because he’s pretty sure Michael would actually kill him for it, but -

“Stop smiling, you fuck.”

========

There’s a moment when Michael's fingers brush up against Ryan’s name as he’s cleaning the blood away that Ryan thinks maybe, but it’s just wishful thinking on his part.

========

Things are weird after that.

Weirder?

Michael’s not avoiding him, but he sure as hell isn’t not avoiding him..

A couple of weeks of awkward go by before the others have enough.

Gavin sighs whenever he sees Ryan, like he’s the stupidest person he’s ever met, fucks sake, Ryan.

Geoff tells him to get his shit together because he’s too old to keep doing this, whatever the hell that means, and Jack?

He laughs.

Like an asshole.

Jeremy looks shifty, mumbles something about idiots and blind as fuck and we were never this bad, which is both mystifying and a little terrifying.

Ryan’s an idiot, but even he’s not that dumb.

========

Probably?

========

Fuck.

Fuck.

He is.

========

Michael does one of three things when he’s in a Mood, as Gavin calls it.

Twisted up and angry, touch of fear wrapped up nice and neat so you wouldn’t notice it right off.

1.) Go to one of the dive bars the Lads are always sniffing out and get shitfaced drunk and someone will drag him home to let him sleep it off. (If he finds a fight before then, all the better.)

2.) Find one of the races around the city that are always happening somewhere. Throw himself into it until he stops thinking and starts reacting, burn it all out and leave it scattered behind him on the asphalt or dirt roads outside Los Santos.

3.) Gear up like he’s going to war and find a fight or start one himself.

3. a.) When it’s really bad, he’ll take it out to one of his testing grounds. (Places Ray used to practice his sniping and joke that the explosions and gunfire coming over the hill made for soothing background noise while he kept an eye on Michael.)

Ryan goes down to Michael’s workshop first, because he’s got a hunch.

The rubber duckie explosives he’s been working on for the last however many months are gone. So is the pelican case Gavin had made for them with the rubber duckie-shaped cutouts in the foam inserts.

He thinks about for a while, wanders over the whiteboard set up on one wall and Michael’s notes regarding how much firepower he packed into the damn duckies. Uses them to whittle down the places he would have gone to fuck around with them under the guise of testing them.

Realizes he’s gone to his testing grounds in Blaine County because no one gives a damn what happens up there, which is fantastic.

========

Really.

========

Michael sees him coming a mile off, and Ryan assumes he hasn’t completely fucked things up between them when he doesn’t have to dodge exploding rubber duckies as he gets closer.

Parks next to Michael’s Adder (shiny and chrome), and makes his way over.

Cautious about it, because Michael’s an asshole like the rest of him and he has one of his rubber duckie explosives in his hand, this look on his face Ryan’s never been able to read.

“Hey, asshole,” Michael greets, eyes darting to the bandage on Ryan’s neck before skipping off again.

He’s got another week until it comes off, and a few more after that until the stitches come out.

“Michael,” Ryan says, takes in the carnage he’s missed in the time Michael’s been out here.

Torn up ground, blackened bits of rock and scattered debris. Stack of paper targets pinned under a grenade to keep them from flying away in the wind before Michael can use them. (Maybe Matt has a point about their flippant disregard for silly little things like safety.)

“Douchebag,” Michael says, corner of his mouth ticking up at the look Ryan gives him. “What do you want?”

Ryan sighs, because, yeah, okay.

He’s an idiot, but Michael knew that going in. He’s had ample time to appreciate how much of a dumbass Ryan is in all the ways.

Just needed a little time to file this latest offense away, add it to all the rest and determine if everything that goes along with it is worth it.

No reason to worry, no.

Not like Ryan’s heart is on the line here, stupid and hopeless and in Michael's care for the longest time.

Michael snorts, tosses the rubber duckie he’s holding to Ryan and laughs when he flails before he catches it.

The loud, ridiculously infectious cackle he gets when something is just so damn funny he can’t help it. Apparently Ryan fumbling one of his explosive devices is one of those things, which is good to know.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan says, because why.

Michael’s still cackling, but it’s quieter now, trails off to a chuckle and then this crooked little smile on his face. Warm and fond and the way Ryan’s hear-rate kicks up at seeing it has nothing to do with near-death experiences via rubber duckie.

“Big bad Vagabond scared of a little rubber duckie? Man, if people could see you now.”

Ryan rolls his eyes because Michael's never been intimidated by Ryan or his overblown reputation.

Thinks it’s hilarious that just about everyone in the city buys into it, always finds ways to give Ryan grief over it.

“Well, I mean,” he says, holding the damn thing up to eye-level to study it. “They don’t have the full story.”

Probably for the best they don't, might take the shine off the reputation the Fakes have spent so much time building for themselves.

Michael rolls his eyes, points at the duckie Ryan’s holding.

“You're fine, you big baby. That one’s just a rubber duckie.” He kicks the pelican case at his feet, and the lid pops open, revealing its contents. “These on the other hand, will kill a motherfucker.”

Ryan looks at the rubber duckies in the case.

Knows Michael came up with a color-coded system for them, varying levels of deadly, and they’re arranged in the case accordingly,

Ryan looks at the rubber duckie he’s holding.

Back the case.

Gets this little itch, just so -

“For fuck’s sake,” Michael says, and snatches the rubber duckie Ryan’s holding to hand him one of the ones from the case. Pristine white and pretty as hell. “See if you can get it past that boulder with your shit aim.”

Ryan slides a look at Michael.

He has fantastic aim, thank you very much. It's just that sometimes he gets a little excited, doesn’t take the time to focus so much when you give him a big shiny gun or something that will make a big boom.

Michael smirks, like he thinks Ryan won’t be able to throw the damn duckie that far or with anything approaching precision.

Which, fair.

It’s a rubber duckie, weighted down with a fair bit of explosives and far from being aerodynamic in any way.

“Betting against me?” he asks, like there’s any question.

Michael shrugs, loose and easy, and punches Ryan in the shoulder. Hard, of course, wouldn't pull his strength for this one.

“Ryan,” he says, definitely lying. “I would never.”

========

Ryan shows Michael one night.

Pulls his hair away and lets him trace his fingers over the name on the back of his neck. Tells him all about some dumb kid with shitty parents growing up in the south.

Feels the tremor to them as Michael rests his hand over the back of Ryan’s neck and tells him about a really bad day he had once back in Jersey.

Assholes who wanted to teach him a lesson because some scrawny idiot of a kid crossed into their territory without realizing it. Brought out a blowtorch and then it was all screaming and pain and tissue damage where a name used to be.

Lets Ryan pull him close, laughs through what sounds like tears when he tells him what it the name was. Four little letters and one hell of a journey to get where they are.

Fate or Destiny or whatever you want to call it puts that name there, sure, but it’s what you do with it that matters, and that’s a hard lesson to learn.

Some people never figure it out, lets it turn them angry and bitter to the end, others?

They don’t get a guarantee for a happily ever after, no. They get the chance for something good, and there’s something about that Ryan likes better.

Feels like it’s within reach when nothing was before, and he’ll take it for as long as he can keep it.

[downtimescribbling]

A Duel

To Mademoiselle Renée Marteau,

I am writing to you on behalf of your step-father, Monsieur Mol Marteau, with tragic news. It saddens me to inform you that your father, Monsieur Guillaume Marteau, has died. Let me be the first to offer my condolences to you and your mother, Madame Cherre d'Oro, on this truly sad occasion. You are undoubtedly curious as to the nature of his untimely death, and I hope to oblige you with as thorough an explanation of the circumstances as I am capable of.

You may recall that in recent years M. Guillaume had been tasked with training newly recruited soldiers in combat. Specifically, his exceptional skill in the field as well as his reputation as a gentleman earned him the prestigious role as mentor to the sons and daughters of nobility. He fulfilled his duty with pride and took the barbs of his more entitled pupils in stride. One such student, having taken umbrage at M. Guillaume's frequent and, by all accounts, necessary corrections, challenged your father to a duel which he accepted without reservation. So much I learned after the fact from conversations with the other mentees.

The day of the duel I accompanied M. Mol and witnessed the tragedy firsthand. In M. Guillaume's grasp the short sword seemed like a toothpick, small and insignificant compared to the hefty maul that he was known to favor. To many in the gathering crowd he appeared as confident as always, but his discomfort with the unfamiliar weapon was immediately clear to M. Mol and myself. The duel began, and despite his unease your father was still able to demonstrate his martial prowess.

The events that follow are difficult for me to recount. The memory weighs heavy on my heart, and had I not seen it unfold with my own eyes I would hardly believe it to be true. Onlookers' accounts hold that M. Guillaume lost his footing and, in failing to regain his balance, fell on his own blade. That is not so. They did not see what I did.

When M. Guillaume stumbled, his opponent drew a concealed dagger and buried it between his ribs. I am ashamed to admit that my shock at the sight of the knife prevented me from shouting a warning that may have saved his life. By the time I found my voice death had claimed him, and the offending weapon had vanished. As for the villain who so cruelly cheated him, the unfortunate truth remains that wealth and status hide a multitude of sins. The offender, whom I will not name for fear of any legal retribution, is the sole heir of a rich and influential family which holds such power as to live above prosecution. Without witnesses to the crime, other than myself, justice will never be duly served. For that I am endlessly sorry.

Mlle. Renée, to say that your father was beloved would be not only an understatement but an insult to his memory. He was a man of great principles who believed with all of his heart that no person was undeserving of love and kindness. It is true that the world is markedly more dreary without him; however, you must bare in mind that he would want you to persevere with hope in your heart. May his example guide us all to becoming our best selves for the good of our fellow man.

Per M. Guillaume's will, his burial will take place here in one week's time. M. Mol is inconsolable but insists on covering all burial expenses as well as travel and board so that you and Mme. Cherre can attend your father's funeral. Once again I must offer my greatest sympathy to you both in the wake of this heartbreaking news. I cannot imagine how this news must pain you. Please know that I am always available for comfort and support should you need me.

Best wishes,

Sir Seth E Gardner, Esq.

[ahgasescenarios]

For You- Kim Jonghyun

Word Count: 4 114

Genre: Sad/angst

A/N: Hey guys. So it's the first time I write such a long story. I'm so heartbroken about Shinee's Jonghyun, he was hands down one of my favorite artists out there. Mental illness is so cruel and he must have been in a lot of pain to want to end it all. My condolences to his family, friends, Shinee and Shawols all over the world. I know it's very hard for all of us right now, but it will get better. I don't think we'll ever be able to move on from such a tragic loss, but we can try and make change with it and be happy. I think that's what he would have wanted. If anyone is feeling depressed, please talk to someone, anyone. I know you may not want to, but please, let us learn from this and help each other out. As humans, it's what we should do. I didn't review this before posting it so I'm sorry if my writing is shittier than usual. I love you all, stay strong.

  September 2015

September 13th was the first time I saw him. He was on stage, looking as majestic as ever, doing what he did best. He looked so happy and grateful to be where he was. It was as if he was thanking each and every fan just by looking into their eyes. I had never realized how beautiful he was before then. I mean, I knew he was handsome as hell, but it didn't hit me until that day. That one precious day where I got to see them perform live. In his eyes was a spark, as if a world was contained in them alone. His face looked like it was made by the Gods and his voice could just about define what heaven would sound like (if it did exist). His happiness made everyone want to feel the same, including me.

  The concert was just about to finish, but they decided to play one last song for us. All of them were sitting down so they had better control of their beautiful voices. Once it got to him, his eyes bore into mine for a brief but meaningful moment. I smiled, and he smiled back. There was something hidden underneath that smile, but I couldn't fathom what. The moment lasted mere seconds, but I felt like it would change my life forever.

  January 2016

I met you again on the 20th, at a coffee shop near the SM building. You looked exhausted both physically and mentally. I wanted to say hello, but you looked so tired and I didn't want to bother you. Life had other plans though because just as you were about to leave, you accidentally spilled your cup of coffee all over my (white) blouse. I cringed at the sudden burning of my skin. Your eyes grew wide in disbelief.

"I am so sorry, Miss. I was in a rush and didn't see you there. Please let me buy you a new blouse."

"Uh, it-it's okay, I'm qui-quite clumsy myself." I almost inaudibly muttered.

"No, please. It's the least I could do."

You smiled again and I accepted, unable to resist your puppy dog eyes.

You kept your promise and bought me a new blouse, apologizing again for causing a mess. We talked a little bit, you asked me questions then and again. It was weird to have such an amazing and talented person take interest in me, but I cherished it for this would probably be the only time I got to talk to you. You made me laugh and I got to see a side of you I didn't know existed. Eventually, you had to get back to practice, but I was still thankful for the moments I got to spend with you.

  On the 31st, I saw you for the third time. I couldn't believe the odds. You were walking down the street looking quite distracted. You took a deep breath and looked towards the sky. I stopped in my tracks, wondering what you were trying to do. You stayed like that for a few moments and when you lowered your head, your eyes met mine. A smile lit up your face as you walked in my direction. I turned around, making sure I wasn't dreaming and you were actually coming here to talk to me.

"We meet again."

You said warmly. I blushed.

"I'm Y/N by the way."

"Jonghyun. It's a pleasure."

I lowered my gaze to the ground, still in shock that you were in front of me once more.

"What brings you here, Y/N?"

"Oh, I just live around the corner and needed some things from the department store. What about you?"

"Felt like taking a walk. Fresh air does wonders for the soul."

You tried to fake a smile, but I wasn't naïve enough to believe it was genuine.

"I know it's not really my place, but did something happen?"

Your eyes twitched for a second as if you were surprised that I would ask such a thing.

"Of course not, I tend to overthink and thought some fresh air would clear my head."

I nodded, deciding to let it go. Before I could realize what I was doing, I found myself giving you my number.

"Well, if you ever need anything, call me. Sometimes a stranger is the best person to talk to."

I smiled, hoping you'd consider the offer. It was obvious that something was wrong, and I really wanted to help in any way I could.

  February 2016

You called. It was the 6th. You asked if I wanted to meet you at a coffee shop nearby. I accepted and wondered if everything was alright with you. You were waiting for me, looking at the passersby with a sad look on your face. I made my way to you and your eyes lit up when you saw me.

"Hi."

"Is everything okay, Jonghyun?" I asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I just felt like spending time with a certain stranger. Is that so wrong?"

My body relaxed at those words. I smiled in relief.

We had been talking for hours. I got to know the real Jonghyun. The human behind all the advertising. It was lovely. You were such a kind, passionate person. After that meeting, I wanted to protect you even more.

    February was the month where we got really close. I was so grateful to have met you. I now considered you my best friend and we hung out regularly. You even got me a teddy bear for Valentine's Day as a joke. I could see how work was draining you and I kept telling you that it was okay to take a break, but you wouldn't listen. As close as we were, you never really talked to me about your troubles or worries.

There was one time where I thought you would, though. You called me in the middle of the night, your voice shaky from crying too much I presumed. I wanted you to talk to me, but you wouldn't. Until I heard someone knocking on my door, that is. I ran to open it, still half asleep. There you were, your hair disheveled and your eyes red. I took you into my arms and you squeezed me tight against your body. You didn't want to talk about it, you said. As much as I wanted you to, I nodded.

Instead, we decided to have a movie marathon with your favorites. I played with your hair and hoped it was enough to make you feel better. At around 2 am, we were both getting tired.

"Jonghyun, it's getting late. You can take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

You frowned.

"No, it's fine you can sleep in your own bed. I'll take the couch."

We bickered for a few minutes but you won, as per usual. I was about to fall asleep when I felt something moving beside me. There you were, hopping into bed with me.

"What are you-"

"Please let me sleep here."

Your voice was begging me. I scooted over to give you more space. You wrapped your arm around my waist and nuzzled your nose into my neck, your breathing slowing down as you got comfortable. My heart was beating so fast at the sudden contact. I fell asleep soon after. That night, I slept better than I had in months.

    April 2016

It was your birthday on the 8th. Your members had invited me to your surprise party and here I was, waiting impatiently for your arrival. We heard the doorknob turn and as you stepped in, we all jumped out of our hiding places and yelled "Surprise!". Your entire face lit up at the sight of your loved ones gathered here for you. I saw tears of joy start to form in the corner of your eyes, but you looked away before anyone else could notice. You went around thanking everyone for coming. When you finally got to me, I jumped into your arms.

You had mentioned a few weeks before that you wanted a Polaroid camera so you could capture the precious moments in your life and cherish them forever. That was my present to you that day. It wasn't just the Polaroid to me, it felt like I was giving you a chance to create more precious moments. Like I was giving you a chance to live, in some way. Maybe that was just me being over-poetic. Regardless of what it meant to me, your reaction when you opened it confirmed that it was all worth it.  You took me into your arms and spun me around, thanking me for the meaningful gift.  

I was happy to see you smile so brightly.

  June 2016

In June, we had officially been friends for 3 months. We had captured many memories with the Polaroid I got you for your birthday and you made me so happy on a daily basis. I hoped I made you feel the same way. In those 3 months of friendship, I had gotten to know you so much more. I felt like I knew you more than I knew myself if that was possible. You had opened up to me a few times and I did everything I could to make you feel better.

In those 3 months, I had also fallen in love with you. You were such a lovable person. Always taking care of others, always spreading positivity to loved ones and fans. I doubted you reciprocated my feelings so I kept them to myself, admiring you from a safe distance. Everything about you was endearing to me, even the flaws you loathed so much.

Most of the time when we hung out, we played video games (where I beat you most of the time, which you did NOT take well) or watched movies since going out was kind of risky given your situation. The dorm was pretty neat and the boys knew me by now. They'd tease us about being a couple sometimes which never failed to make me blush. You always shrugged it off, though.

  November 2016

You were getting ready for a comeback with the members. You didn't have as much time for me as before. I understood, your career had always been very important to you. I knew how hard you worked on your music, how devoted you were to it so I didn't complain. It was getting kind of lonely without you. I picked up some hobbies in an attempt to occupy my now abundant free time. I had a new passion for cooking and reading. I knew you didn't really eat that much given you were working on a new album, so I came to the dorm regularly to drop off some homemade meals for you and the members. Even though you were crazy busy, you always thanked me. That was enough for me.

On one of my trips to the dorm, I heard some noise coming from your room. I placed the Tupperware in your fridge and followed the noise, gulping loudly in fear. I opened the door reluctantly and jumped in shock when I saw you there, sitting on your bed.

"Oh sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to scare you."

You held your chest as your poor heart recovered from the jump scare you just experienced.

"It-it's fine. What-what are you do-doing here anyway?"

"I was just trying to finish these song lyrics, but I'm failing."

"Jonghyun, you are not failing. Maybe you just need to wait to find some inspiration?"

"Y/N, you don't understand. Waiting is not an option and unless by some miracle I succeed in finishing these lyrics, I won't make the deadline and who knows what will happen then!"

You just frowned as he continued on.

"You know what, maybe this was meant to be. I never was that good anyway. Maybe this is life finally showing me that I don't deserve this life, that I'm not good enough to succeed in the industry."

"Enough Jonghyun!"

His eyes widened at your sudden outburst.

"I have always been there for you when you needed me. I've always done my best to comfort you. You know I've ALWAYS had faith in you and not because I'm biased or anything. I believe in you because you ARE talented Jonghyun."

"I have listened to you badmouth yourself before, but I will NOT stand idly by while you discredit yourself. You are the most talented singer-songwriter I know and don't you dare say you're not worth it because you are. You are so worth it, Jonghyun."

"And god if you don't see that, then I've fallen in love with a complete idiot."

Your mouth dropped as you processed what I had just said. Tears were now running down my cheeks and I didn't want to feel even more shame than I did in that moment. I quickly turned on my heels and strutted to the door. Before I could get there, you grabbed my wrist. I froze, not wanting to face you.

I felt your thumb wipe away my tears and you raised my chin up.

"Y/N, look at me."

I reluctantly looked into your eyes. You stroked my cheek lovingly. Before I could process what was happening, your lips were on mine moving ever-slowly. It didn't take long before I kissed you back, your tongue finding its way into my mouth as the kiss took a more passionate turn.

"Any chance you could finish those lyrics tomorrow morning?"

I muttered, panting. You smiled and nodded. We spent the night together, cuddled up on your bed. I felt loved.  

  December 2016

We had officially been a couple for a month now. It felt so surreal. I had never been as happy. Your comeback had been quite successful and I was glad to be there to see your music blossom. The song lyrics you had finished that morning after my confession ended up being the title song of the album. I thought you'd be happy, but something seemed off.

It felt like something was wrong with you, I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

One night when you came back from work, you seemed so worn out. I asked you if there was something I could do. You looked into my eyes and I could just about see the helplessness in your eyes. That night, you told me everything. I listened carefully and I was truly astonished. Never in a million years would I have thought that depression could affect you. In my mind, depression was something that only happened to other people, not those close to you.

I tried my best to advise you on the matter, but I was at a loss for words. I was heartbroken that my love could be feeling so much pain when here I was, as happy as ever. I felt so selfish. I should've recognized the signs, I blamed myself for not seeing your pain when you were hiding it so well. It was almost impossible for me to know, but that didn't matter.

That night, I cried myself to sleep.

  March 2017

A few months had passed and we were still going strong. Since the incident, you had been seeing a therapist regularly and you seemed a bit more joyful. But then again, who was I to judge? You didn't have any comebacks coming up so you spent a lot of time with me. We tried to go out more, to appreciate the outside world more.

Even if you seemed better, it was as if the spark I saw in your eyes the first time I saw you had disappeared forever.

  May 2017

You were being more distant. We fought quite often for the stupidest things. At first, I kept telling myself that you were tired and that's why you were so irritated. It didn't help that I was terrified of losing you and we barely had real conversations anymore. You kept telling me everything was okay, but I couldn't bring myself to accept that for some reason. I tried to let my worries go and give you some space, but that proved to be more difficult than expected. Maybe I needed you more than you needed me.

  August 2017

After a few months, your "phase" had passed and you were back to your old self. You seemed less enthusiastic about things, but I didn't think much of it. After all, you were seeing your therapist regularly and were taking meds daily. You were probably tired. Medication can have that effect on people, right?

You came to me more often when you were feeling sad and I was grateful for that. I always did my best to help you. I wanted to save you from such a cruel mental illness, so I did everything in my power to make you feel as loved and important as you were to me.

I came to therapy with you once. You were the one who asked me to. It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. She made me talk about the way I felt about the whole thing and next thing I knew, I was crying and spilling my guts to a total stranger. Your hand was on the small of my back the whole time, trying to soothe my current state.

  November 2017

It was going to be our first anniversary together soon. I was so excited. Unfortunately, I had been very busy with work the past few days and we hadn't spent as much time together as we would've liked. We texted as much as we could, but rare were the times where we sat down together to just talk about what was going on in our lives at the moment. I had managed to book the day of our anniversary off in advance and I was looking forward to seeing you.

After much anticipation, the D-day finally came. I had prepared everything. We were going to have a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant and then go back to my place. I had arrived first, being the one who made the reservation. I saw you come in a black and white suit. You looked ravishing at first. Then I noticed the purple circles around your eyes as if you hadn't slept in weeks, even months. You were paler than usual, your jaw seemed sharper. My face dropped at the sight.

"Jonghyun... what happened?"

You smiled faintly, explaining that your medication had been keeping you awake and had been eating away at your appetite.

I believed you, because why shouldn't I? We talked a lot and I was relieved that things could go back to the way they were even after not seeing each other for quite some time.

We made love that night, but it didn't feel the same.

  D e c e m b e r  2 0 1 7

You had a concert early in the month. I decided to surprise you by coming. I was hiding backstage as you wrapped up, a huge grin on my face. Grin that didn't last. You were crying. At first, I thought they were tears of joy. But when I saw the look on your face, I acknowledged that I was wrong. Your eyes were scanning the arena as if you were trying to memorize the faces of everyone there. As if you wanted to treasure this moment forever. As if you were trying to say goodbye without having to say it. To anyone else, this would've seemed normal. But not to me.

  December 18th, 2017. I will never be able to forget that god-forsaken date. You sent me a cryptic text at around 4:30 pm. "I can't do it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you." I didn't know what that meant. I was so worried. I thought you were leaving me. How foolish of me.

I received a phone call at around 6:00 pm. It was the police. They had found you unconscious in your apartment, a briquette of coal burning. You didn't make it, they said. I dropped the phone. I screamed so loud I think I woke up the entire city. My heart felt like it had been shattered completely. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I was in so much pain I thought my body would completely shut down.

I woke up in the ICU sometime after. Apparently, I had fainted.

"Please tell me it's not true. Please, tell me he's alive."

The nurse smiled sadly, shaking her head, confirming my deepest fear. The members came in, puffy-eyed and looking like zombies. I guessed I looked the same. At the mere sight of each other, we all started crying. It was one of those movie-like moments where everyone clung to each other, hoping that if they held on tight enough, it would make the pain go away. But it didn't.

I had never experienced such vivid pain before. If I could rank it on a scale from 1 to 10, I'd say this was a solid 10. It hurt so much that I couldn't breathe. Crying myself to sleep had become a habit and I didn't know if I would see a day where I didn't.

  I attended your funeral a few days later. Everyone said beautiful things about you, my love. It was a very emotional time for everyone there. We were at such a loss to see such an amazing human being taken away from us far, far too soon. Just as the funeral was about to come to an end, your mother found me. She thanked me for my presence and gave me a letter. Apparently, you had written it for me.

I opened it the moment I got home, eager to read the last thing you had left behind for me. It read:

My love,

I don't even know where to start with you. I want to thank you for making my time here happier and filled with love. You are a strong, confident, kind woman I was proud to call mine, even if for a short time. You must have so many questions, unfortunately, I can't answer all of them. I want you to know that I loved you and I will always love you, it is not your fault darling. I never wanted to hurt you and I'm sorry for making you go through such pain. For once in my life, I've decided to be selfish. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you more, but there was nothing you could have done. My soul had already been claimed way before you came into my life. I suffered for such a long time in silence, I couldn't handle the pain anymore. I hope this brings some peace to your soul. May you find love again and be happy, you deserve it. That is all I ask of you.

I will always love you,

Jonghyun.

By the time I finished reading the letter, I was a complete mess. I was holding the letter tightly against my chest, clinging to it for dear life. I guess, it kind of confirmed that you were gone. And you would never come back.

I woke up the next morning with a heavy heart, once more. I closed my eyes and dialed your number, one last time.

"Jonghyun... I know you'll never get this message. But if by some miracle you're watching over me, then I want you to know that I understand. It's okay, I know how hard you tried to escape this. It's not your fault, I know you only wanted it to stop. I will always love you too, I hope you rest well up there. Life will never be the same without you, but I'll try to make the most of it. For you."

I hung up, tears going down my cheeks once more as I remembered my times with you. You had kept all of our Polaroids together and hung them on your wall.

    Today, I say goodbye to you, Jonghyun. You were a beloved son, brother, idol, friend and so much more. You were always so cheerful and always made sure that everyone around you was happy. It didn't matter that you weren't. We lost an amazing person, a beautiful soul. You were too pure for this world. You saved so many people with your smile and just by being you, but in the end, you weren't able to save yourself. May you rest in peace, wherever you are. You will be remembered for everything that you were. We will love you forever. I will love you forever.

  In loving memory of an angel gone too soon, Kim Jonghyun

April 8, 1990- December 18, 2017

[txd-txnks-blog]

The Sun Has To Set Sometime

November 20th, 1969 Great Hall, Hogwarts 8:53am

Ted adjusted the tie around his neck irritably. It had been such a lousy morning already. His alarm had refused to go off despite him setting it three times. He knew that Doc had been irritated by the idea of three alarms from Ted but he doubted that his best friend was the one to turn the damned thing off. He supposed it was because of all the magic in the air. He would have to go get an enchanted clock sometime despite his attempts not to use too much magic.

As he raced up to the Entrance Hall with his tie crooked and his robes only half-on, Ted hoped that some karma would repay him throughout the day to balance out the negative beginning. He spotted some Slytherins nearby snickering at his unfortunate appearance but chose to ignore them. None of them were Andromeda so he figured he was safe. Sure, he and Andy had made progress in their relationship and sure, he was less afraid of her judgement than he had in the beginning but he still did not want her to witness him in a state of distress.

Before entering the Great Hall he fixed his clothes as best he could and slid into place at the Hufflepuff table. He did not look to see who he had sat himself by, instead Ted began to stuff his face full of buttered toast. He just needed some sustenance before he dove back to the dungeons for Potions class. If he had to smell the fumes of whatever disgusting concoction without something in his stomach he was worried he would pass out.

He had not been paying attention when the morning mail arrived given that his mother was not due to write to him for another three days. Ted and Marissa had a very strict schedule that they followed when it came to their correspondences so as not to have too many owls showing up at her cottage. It was less suspicious that way. So when a letter dropped in Ted’s lap he was a little dazed and it took him a few moments to compute what had occurred.

The handwriting on the front was definitely not that belonging to Marissa Tonks. It was stock-straight and official-looking rather than the curved and distracted handwriting he was used to. The letter was addressed to Edward Tonks, a name that no one called him due to his dislike of his full name. Clearly the sender did not know him at all.

He carefully removed the parchment from the envelope and began to read

Mr. Edward Tonks, I regret to inform you that your mother, Ms. Marissa Tonks, has passed away due to breast cancer late last evening. In her Will she advised me to contact you as well as Mr. and Mrs. Dearborn about where you shall reside after her passing, though you are now seventeen and may make whatever decision you deem appropriate. A Ministry official will meet with you tomorrow evening at seven to go over the details of your mother’s Will at length. My condolences,

The letter was signed by some Ministry employee whose name was not familiar to Ted. How had his mother contacted them? How had she not told Ted that she had cancer? How could she be--

No. It was not possible that Marissa Tonks, the greatest woman Ted had ever met, could just be gone without a warning. Ted would know, wouldn’t he? He would surely feel the hole in his heart from her departure. He cursed Hogwarts’ anti-technology atmosphere and ripped out a piece of parchment to send a letter to his mother. Surely she would clear this horrendous mistake up for him.

Mum, Some Ministry man is claiming you have died from breast cancer but I think it’s bollocks. You’re not dead and you do not have cancer, right? You would have told me? You would have given me some preparation for something like that. You would not leave me to deal with this while at school with no idea of what’s to come. Please Reply, Ted

He left the rest of his food untouched as he rushed to the Owlery to send the letter. He barely remembered the trip there and vaguely remembered telling the owl to hurry as he desperately tied the letter to their ankle.

November 20th, 1969 3rd Floor Empty Classroom, Hogwarts 3:47pm

The rest of the day went by in a blur. He had swirling memories of Doc and other classmates asking if he was all right. Looking back, Ted could not recall what exactly he had done in response. He was currently hiding in the classroom that he oftentimes met with Andromeda to work on essays in. Ted was curled up under what was presumably the nonexistent professor’s desk, reading his copy of Around the World in Eighty Days that his mother had bought him for his birthday. She wanted him to read muggle literature alongside the magical. He had neglected to even open the novel til just then, having very little interest as a reader.

Tapping was heard at the window and he scrambled to open it, seeing the school owl that he had sent with the letter that morning. Hope rose in his chest at the sight of a letter in response attached to the creature. He ignored the howling wind spraying the winter air into his face as he accepted the letter and ripped it open without a second thought.

Unfortunately that same handwriting from this morning stared back at him.

Mr. Edward Tonks, I am very sorry to hear that your mother did not warn you of her tragic passing but I felt the need to reply to your message as you sounded distraught and I wished not to give you false hope, my boy. As I said, my associate will be visiting you tomorrow and if there is anything we may assist you with in the meantime do not hesitate to let me know. My condolences,

Ted crumpled up the parchment and chucked it out the window before slamming it shut. He collapsed to the ground, feeling his chest tighten with the sheer amount of effort it took to take air into his lungs. He crawled under the desk once more. Ted felt as though he was about to explode with grief. Tears created hot streaks down his face and moistened the cover of his novel. 

The last birthday gift he would receive from his mother.

November 22nd, 1969 Stamford Cemetery, England 4:46pm

Ted stuck close to the Dearborn family as the service went on. He’d already spoken a eulogy but he could not remember what he had said. The last few days were wiped out of his memory, his brain attempting to protect him from his grief. He heard the soft sounds of Doc’s mother crying and would have reached out to take her hand if he was not feeling as though he had no control over his limbs. It was as if part of Ted was tucked away in that casket with his mother, as though he would never be whole again.

People were speaking their condolences to him repeatedly. He hated that word now, condolences, ever since those letters had come to him. He would hold resentment toward the phrase for the rest of his days. He knew it was silly, knew that there was nothing about those words that could really harm anyone but they just sounded so fake and so flat when they fell on his ears. The speaker sounded like a robot, trained to say the right things but unable to add the meaning behind them.

Ted was nudged forward to toss the first rose and a small amount of dirt onto his mother’s casket, the only sound registering in his ears was the crunch of show beneath his best shoes. His mother had insisted that, on top of having dress robes, every man needed a suit. She had taken him to have it tailored and everything. He had complained most of the time despite finding the whole trip rather entertaining.

Ted regretted complaining about anything in his life.

He could not be sure how long he stood beside his mother’s grave but was broken out of his mindless staring by Caradoc’s hand upon his shoulder. He said something about saying goodbye and having to go back to school. Ted did not understand. How could he go back to school when his entire world had crumbled from beneath him. How could he go back and try to learn about this new world he supposedly belonged in when his connection to his old world was now buried in the earth?

Marissa Elizabeth Tonks was dead.

An arm was wrapped around his shoulders and he finally looked up. Doc was holding him in what could be considered a rather protective embrace. The one thing Ted could vividly remember about this day looking back years later was his best friend pointing out at the horizon and whispering “The sun has to set sometime, Ted.”

[littlemisswriter]

Utterly Blindsided - Part 2

Summary:

After discovering the truth of Jacob's betrayal, Lily drowned out any emotion during missions, purposely working alone to avoid another confrontation. But will Jacob give up that easily on her?

[Back for a part 2! I have written all instalments to this imagine and am currently editing them to be posted accordingly! Any ideas for more works are encouraged if there is something in particular you’d like to read :) Enjoy x]

It had been weeks since Lily had last spoken to Jacob, and not once in that time had she found a moments peace from her own head. The thoughts ran rampant as she did her best to ignore them and focus on matters at hand. But despite her efforts, she continued to suffer.

Though she hadn't been the only one. Jacob had wished nothing more every night than to go back and fix his mistake as he lay lonely in the train. Most nights had his own tears fixed down his face as the spot beside him remained cold and empty.

He missed Lily; finding it hard to function properly without her by his side. Her usual wit to match his own, and eager tendency to welcome trouble daringly by his side, had vanished. No longer had she ventured out with the assassin, opting to continue the fight against oppression alone.

Yet the Templar Domain in London still stood strong, meaning it was only a matter of time before the two had to work together once more.

"Evie, please-" Lily's plea had fallen silent upon the older twin by a raised hand. Her sigh came sympathetically.

"This is the last thing I want to ask of you, Lily. But this is important." There had been a real possibility that Templars were transporting the Precursor artefact across the city. The object would be heavily guarded which meant Evie needed the extra pair of hands to secure it.

What her brother lacked in stealth, he made up for with brutality, Lily being just as vital with her own strength to accommodate what Jacob couldn't. It's what made the pair so dangerous when they were together.

Her heart dropped as she accepted her fate, knowing that intercepting Templar progress was far more important than any personal vendetta. "All right," Lily swallowed back the lump in her throat as Evie lay a gentle hand to her shoulder.

The two women locked eyes, Lily's filled with uncertainty while Evie offered reassurance. "I heard what happened, with Jacob..." The memory causing a wince. "And I know that what he did was unforgivable." A moment. "But I also know that my brother loves you deeply, and would do anything to fix his mistake."

Watching her brother suffer as much as he was had been hard, though she also condoled with Lily and her betrayal. But Evie had seen them together, how powerful they became as assassins, and how true they were to themselves.

It was a love she had only really read about in books, something so passionate and heartfelt. And it made Jacob happy, which in turn had her satisfied. "I know," Lily muttered, "I just..." Expressing her emotions wasn't easy, rather why she chose not to deal with them at all, even when they sat painfully heavy in her chest. "I love him Evie. But after-" She nearly choked on her next words, so instead chose to silence herself. And Evie knew, she could see exactly the thoughts in her head through the pain in her eyes.

"Perhaps, this doesn't have to end as tragically as you think." The two women could only share a look, Evie's a sad smile as Lily's eyes downcast to the floor beneath them. How would it end?

-

The night air had done nothing to faze the assassins as they jumped from rooftop to rooftop. The silence amongst them was deafening as they made way to the precise location of the ambush. Jacob kept behind the others, eyes turning persistently over to Lily, though she kept her gaze straight and her cowl close to cover her face. More than anything had he wanted the opportunity to fix their relationship right then, but more important matters were at hand.

"There," Evie pointed, kneeling down by the edge of the building as she cast her eyes down along the street. It had been deeper into the night where most kept out of the street to find shelter. The city had been asleep which rang chance to those with ill intentions, "the carriage should be here soon. Lily," the twin looked over to her friend before back to her brother that knelt silently to her opposite side. It hadn't been often that Jacob was so tame, which ignited worry for his sister; and that of Lily too, even if she refused to admit it, "Jacob."

Deep in thought, he snapped his head up to meet the concerned eyes of Evie. But just looked away back to the street below; he couldn't bare for anyone to see him like this, let alone his own sister. "You want me to go down there and kill Templars, correct?" His tone flat as his attention distant. The reaction couldn't help but have Lily glance over to her former lover. She had never seen him like this before, and she hated it. Her heart pulled her towards him but her ache kept her reclusive.

"Yes, just wait nearby out of sight." Evie stood. "If you can draw their attention away long enough, it will give me a chance to seize the artefact and escape from sight." The trio were all well informed of Evie's plan, and if done attentively, it will rupture the Templar's power over London. "Good luck." With a glance to each assassin beside her, Evie could only quietly sigh before utilizing the rope launcher off the building.

Lily and Jacob remained silent, fighting the itch to scratch a peak at one another. "Well," Lily muttered, speaking for the first time that night as she came to her stance, "let's go." No hesitation as she descended down the building, Jacob watching intently now that he knew he wouldn't get caught. He rid the lump in his throat as he too followed after her.

There were enough spots amongst the streets to lay low until the carriage arrived. The pair kept together, out of sight in a nearby alleyway as they waited for their target. Lily's fists balled and un-balled against the brick wall behind her while keeping her attention onto the open street. Jacob noticed her actions, aware of the physical behavior she displayed while under stress. He couldn't imagine this had been easy for her, as it had been agonizing for him; a shot to the chest would hurt less in the circumstance.

But for the first time in a while, an opportunity had presented itself. Alone with Lily, able to communicate with her briefly and at least hear her voice directed at him once more. Not long ago, he had confided in his sister, feeling lost and longing for his love; and she had offered him encouragement to take the opportunities with Lily as they came. Yet to be gentle with her, and honest. Jacob bit his lip as his mouth opened and shut multiple times in search of what to say. "Lily."

The mention of her name had her body stiffen, fists now balled tight as she leant back onto the wall and out of sight. Her head lowered to keep the hood from exposing her features as her chest began to pick up pace. She supposed it was inevitable for this moment to come; she had to speak to Jacob eventually though had only been stubborn about it.

"I..." The words failed to fall from his tongue as he looked down to the ground beneath them. Her breathe hitched, inching her head over to watch Jacob from the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry, Lily." It hadn't been the words but the emotions behind them that hindered her guard. Her knees could buckle but she hadn't given them the chance. "You deserve better than me." His eyes slowly reaching up over to his partner, now aware of how affected she had been by the mere mention. "But yet I stay, selfish in hope that you'll come back to me."

That is all she wanted, but his betrayal kept her resilient to affections. Time had weakened her without him, thinking of him and the comfort of him nonstop. Being held close and having another to fall asleep beside when the night was cold. She missed it, all of it.

"I'm completely in love with you, Lily." A shudder slipped by her lips as she allowed his words to affect her.  "And I... I can't keep going on without you. I can't-"

The sounds of a nearby carriage had caught the unsuspecting assassins, Lily looking around the corner to lay eyes on the oncoming targets. There had been four carriages, two acting as guard in front and one at the back. The one in the middle had been deemed as their prize, though it looked like it would take quite a few Templars to plow through first.

"We'll clear out the first carriage. That's our ticket to getting the others to follow us." Lily analyzed before she thought, not realizing how fluently she had spoken to Jacob. It took her off balance for a moment but she stabilized herself. "Jacob," she muttered once again, turning over her shoulder to see the man already looking at her; the longing in his gaze made her heart clench though she fought it off. The artefact was the priority, "I... we'll speak later. But, I need to know... are you with me?"

He would always have her back, this she knew. But she needed the reassurance, it's all she'd been craving since the separation. And the starvation had her feel the need to ask again. Jacob couldn't believe she'd ask, but nodded anyway. He would die for this woman if he needed to. "To the death."

There was a moment between them, a flutter of Lily's eyes in reaction had her weak. Her arms wanting to reach out and wrap around Jacob then and there. But she knew better. So she nodded, quite without words as she turned back to the target ahead.

It was now or never.

[memoriesofzoe-blog]

Dear Ms Purvis and family,

My colleagues have told me about Zoe’s tragic death. As Vice Chancellor and president of the University and also a father, I wanted to contact you to express my deepest sympathy and condolences. My thoughts are with you all, as are those of my colleagues.

Your focus will be on your family at this at this deeply difficult time. I do not wish to intrude but if there’s anything practical that the university can do to help support you, please do not hesitate to let me know. I know that my colleague Pete Wilgoss from the student wellbeing service has spoken to Nick, Zoe’s cousin. Pete’s focus will be on supporting you and Zoe’s friends at the university.

Zoe was not a student that I was fortunate enough to have met, but I am struck by what I have come to know about her. My colleagues have told me that Zoe was a warm, funny and very kind member of the postgraduate community at the university. She was well liked and admired throughout her department, not just by her peers but also by the undergraduate students she taught in seminars. Zoe was also clearly a gifted student; her study into the connections between theatre and technology has been described by her tutor as brilliant, creative and important work.

Aside from her academic achievements, my colleagues remember Zoe for her extra curricular life and enthusiasm for stand up comedy, pub quizzes and of course the theatre scene.

Dr Neal Farwell, Head of the School of Arts is planning to write to you in due course to reflect further on Zoe’s time at the university and to offer his condolences. We know she will be sorely missed by everyone who knew her.

Once again please accept my sincerest condolences. I’m so sorry to be writing to you under these circumstances.

Professor Hugh Brady, Vice Chancellor and President of the University of Bristol.