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ketterdamskaelishprince · 1 month

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ada's spectre, and why i'll likely always feel sad about it

here is the promised analysis/talk about ada's spectre. going to preface this by saying i obviously don't know the true intent behind everything and her design, i just like to look, giggle and then make sad little observations which just help me love this silly webcomic even more. so if you disagree with me on something– totally ok! i love to learn and i love to see different interpretations.

there's also a few bits i missed out because i wrote this all last night in a bit of a haze, and i cannot be bothered to expand on some of my ideas, especially when it's just stuff like "BROS SO PARANOID AND RAW RIGHT NOW".

anyways, here we go :) @mugcereal this one's for u pookie <3

so i think with ada's spectre, we first need to look at the instance as to how she gets it, because that always makes things way more sad!

to specify, she turns into her spectre at episode 69, and i think it's really sad how she does it. she basically gets a string of roasts from prospero that go along the lines of calling her "conceited" "twadry" and "... and stupid!" – effectively throwing back in ada's face what she believes everyone thinks of her.

(obviously, as a very big and glaring sidenote, i believe prospero is aro/ace or just aromantic so OBVIOUSLY i am not bashing him for this. bros told her so many times that he doesn't want to be with her, let alone to be touched. that is a flaw in ada's character and is a reminder to us on the importance of boundaries!!!!)

so, ada is basically there, collapsed on the floor in a robe– effectively showing the most intimate and private part of herself as an insecure and lonely girl. and that's when she transforms.

i think it's interesting to understand how this most likely links to her life and how she died. so we know she was killed with an axe, most likely by the man she fell in love with and worked for, and how prospero's words in this situation, hurt her just the same as the words before her death. why?

because they remind ada of what she knows and fears she is: just a stupid, fake and cheap person who will never have the same status and respect as the people she pretends to be and surrounds herself by.

i think it's also interesting that she's clutching her stomach/torso here, and correct me if i'm wrong but that could be a potential signal to the part of her that was axed to death (?). no idea if that's a good shout or not but it's what i first thought!

anyways! now we move onto her spectre design!

first of all, her spectre design eats. like just a personal side note, i love it. it's just so gorgeous and i don't care if she's terrifying to some because to ME? to me, she's my gorgeous little pookie who can scream and show people their worst fears and she looks amazing whilst she does it <3

ok anyways, actual design.

to first understand her design, i thought i'd show you what banshee's traditionally in folklore look like!

typically, they are described in two ways. the first way is a youthful women with long black hair, blue eyes and just super pale. this description could also lose the blue eyes and just keep the black hair– either way the first depiction of a banshee is a super young woman.

this is not the one we're focussing on today folks!

we're going to focus on the second depiction. a hag/ old woman, with red cheeks, a grey cloak and a green dress, often seen to be combing her hair. banshee's throughout folklore are known to wail, scream and cry when a family member had died. to most, the banshee was a sign that death was coming to your household and they are known in myths and folklore as a predictor of death.

now, hold onto the green dress and look at ada's design real quick for me.

here we see a lot of green, which yay! definitely shows signs it comes from the second depiction. i think, on top of it being a nod to the second depiction, i think it could also be an allusion to something else: jealousy.

green symbolism in media can often vary, from meaning new life, luck and also jealousy. and i think if we take in the things ada screams whilst in her spectre form, such as this from episode 82:

you see there definitely is some sort of jealousy there, but this isn't something i necessarily want to focus on, it's just an observation i made that may or may not be true!

anyways, to continue, i want to look at ada's outfit when she's a banshee. i'm going to basically be making my notes i took last night look nicer.

(keep in mind that when i wrote these, my ideas were literally bouncing off my brain and sometimes they're a bit contradictory, but i think that's the beauty of my crack theory analysis!)

i think the act of almost showing her bones to the outside, there's a level of rawness to ada we don't usually see. her spectre form essentially gives her the power to scream out her anger, and by seeing her bones it's almost as if to say this is the ada she doesn't show people. this is the ada that she keeps to herself because god forbid anybody love her (because in life and death it's become abundantly apparent to her that nobody does seem to love that ada).

but then, what i thought was also a super cool thing as how the bones almost act like a corset!

then i got sad because i looked at the bows, and because something dawned on me and it made me start to frown. there was a sad realization to me as i looked at ada's spectre design that even in this all powerful form, she hasn't lost her insecurities, they just become more prevellant. because for all of the traditional wrinkles, hag-like appearance a banshee is meant to have, ada barely has any.

obviously this could be in part to character design and stuff, and yeah probably– but let me be sad!

because ada carries her frills and bows from life here because she doesn't want to be ugly, she doesn't want to be this creeping monster who rips apart people. because if she's not got her intelligence or status or anything going for her, she has her appearance and by god she's not going to let that go to waste. so here her spectre form is, a banshee.

so what must ada do? she must takes her frills and keep her insecurities, her fears and her crippling need to be loved.

another aspect which is super interesting is the stitching on her body. one one hand, it could be an allusion to her violent death, suggesting the man she fell in love with didn't just stop at axing her once, but just kept on fucking going (which, you know: fuck you, whoever you are).

but on the other hand, it could be a metaphor for ada's thinly veiled facade she puts on of being a prim and proper lady (which we actually, interestingly enough, see she looses a lot the more time she spends with montresor– opting to take parts of his language like "ain't" and "beggin'". this sort of leads on from previous ideas people have made of ada willing to change herself to be loved. she swaps civility for the wild wild west all for a bit of love).

ada offers up parts of herself in this metaphor. that's what she always does. she offers herself to the rich man she fell in love with, she offers herself up to prospero (again, look at the. side note. bro wasn't wrong for rejecting her he literally can't like her) and she offers herself up to the acolytes and she fucking barks for them (because i'm not over that).

piece by piece, she strips away everything she is until she literally is just skin and bone. and once she's torn herself apart, she needs to stitch herself back together– because it's against the facade she's put on to look so broken and messy. and so she repeats the cycle again, giving more and more until she is literally hanging on by a thread.

her powers are also super cool. traditionally, as i said, banshees wail when a family member is soon to die/has died, and is often like an omen/predictor of death. so yeah, ada having a banshee scream makes sense. but the whole 'fear itself' is also super cool. i kind of like that she has this– because its sort of satisfying for her, the girl who's been pushed over but still comes running back, to watch as people become paralysed with fear. idk, retribution or whatever.

i'm going to leave you with this not very profound thing i wrote last night (and then just some other mumblings):

i think that although spectres are super powerful and also just a very fantastic concept, they're also fragile. spectres are quite literally the monster inside of you. yet here ada's monster is, and with all her bows and revamped dress of a banshee (or potentially an allusion to her life as a maid) she tries desperately to be anything but that. because to here it's ugly and it's too much of her on display. and with some much of you on display comes the very fear that if you are hated, disliked or something repulsive, you no longer have anything to blame on anybody else. you just have yourself to blame.

(as morella says here in episode 88).

i'm not saying ada isn't deeply flawed, because she is. she has so much fucking baggage and insecurities that they literally forbid her from doing the right thing sometimes. i don't think she's a good person, but i also think that she has the opportunity to be a good person/ do a semi-good/ non-bad thing, and all she has to do is take it. but i also think it's nice how that's shown in her spectre design.

and, you know, if none of this makes sense, that's also fine!

anyways, yeah. somebody tell me never to make a random analysis at night again because it's a bit of a bitch to translate in the morning.

#ada nevermore #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #nevermore #ada #ada nevermore analysis #nevermore character analysis #character analysis #adas spectre #is that even how you spell it #anyways i love her for who she is #my precious little screaming meow meow #LMAO #ok idk what i'm talking about anymore LMOA #forgive if there are typos because at this point i am TOO TIRED to do anything about it

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amistytown · 3 years

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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incorrectsnkships · 2 years

Note

The mental image of Levi with a baby strapped to his back while he's doing chores is 🥵 Maybe more than one baby so he looks like a grumpy mama possum.

i am very tired rn and running on one (1) bowl of cereal but god damn is dad levi one of the hottest things in the world (forgive any typos i am in so much pain)

young, single dad levi + me = incoherent screams

i am an absolute fucking sucker for single parent levi, bonus points if he had the kid at a young age, too.

just. him. holding his newborn and bouncing her (levi is a girl dad fucking fight me) up and down when she starts to grizzle is so cute. he’s so scared because what if he isn’t good enough and what if she’ll be better off with someone else? but no, he couldn’t do that. she didn’t ask to be born, so it’s his responsibility to make her life as happy as possible.

and he takes her to nursery and all of the other parents just silently judging him at drop off and pick up time because he must be the youngest one there judging by his face and his attitude nd his clothing and his style. they think he’s probably still a child himself, mentally, but when i tell you that he is a good dad anon, you best fucking believe it.

the shit he does for his kid. he’d go to the edge of the planet just for her. if nobody at school was taking her seriously or if she ever got bullied but nobody tried to stop it, i know for a fact that he’d be at his kid’s school in a heartbeat trying to sort things out.

they didn’t take him seriously at first, either, because, “mr ackerman, you’re barely twenty one yourself, i’m sure our grown, mature teachers know what they’re doing,” and that makes his blood absolutely boil. sure, he may be a kid with a kid, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t a parent, and being a parent means looking out for your child, putting them first, and doing things in their best interest.

the bullying doesn’t stop. levi’s had countless meetings at the school, so many that if he were to tally them all up, he’d be counting on both hands more than once. levi tends to lose his cool in said meetings, which has, unfortunately, meant that rumours have spread of levi being the “irresponsible, neglectful and careless dad,” which his kid has suffered as a result of. not in any legal consequences, more like teasing from other children. nasty stuff, kids can be cruel.

it gets too much. levi switches his kid’s school, and also puts in a complaint about her previous school, too. she’s five, school is meant to be fun, not hell. the realisation hit when he went over all the times when he’d try and dress his kid for school, try and get her to go but she just wouldn’t because she’d come home crying anyway, so what’s the point, right? the trouble is, levi has a hard time saying no, so this meant a lot of phone calls to school saying “oh, she has a fever,” “she has a stomach bug and won’t be in,” “she was up all night and now she’s paying for it, poor thing.”

obviously, levi had to be careful, otherwise it would turn legal.

l: baby come on. please, you have to

k: lol no

l: i’ll actually get in trouble pls go

k: bitch come at me

l: fine fuck u i’ll call the school and let them know you won’t be there ur going tomorrow tho

but the new school, oh, the new school. it was wonderful. the staff were so considerate, so kind and gentle with the children. they didn’t judge levi, but respected him very highly, and took their hat off to him for being able to raise a child whilst raising himself.

levi came across the term “gentle parenting” whilst aimlessly scrolling one day, seeing the posts that old friends from high school made - out having fun, clubbing, graduating, while he’s renting out a shitty two bedroom apartment with, practically, a toddler. but he wouldn’t have it any other way. anyway, he came across this title/style thing, and figured “huh, this must be me,” but gagged at some of the posts under the tag.

all millennial couples in their late thirties posting their yucky gender reveals and yucky baby showers and yucky kids with yucky names, commenting yucky things like, “my little bravey baby boy had an ouchy, broke my heart to see him in such a state! he’s so strong!” and realised that, okay, maybe this wasn’t him after all. not that type of gentle parenting, anyway.

levi liked to swear. a lot. but never in front of his kid. well, sometimes. he would curse when some fucker blocked off his right of way whilst driving, and would mutter “shitshitshit fuckfuckfuckfuck” under his breath whenever he’d hurt himself. sometimes, if he thought it wouldn’t do any harm, he’d swear to his kid. things like, “you’re a little shit, huh?” after his kid came up to him and blew a raspberry right in his face, but always followed it up with, “don’t say what i just did. it’s bad. don’t be like your dad, okay?” just to ensure that his bad habits aren’t rubbing off on her. and to cover his own tracks. technically it’s not his fault if she swears at school if he told her not to do it.

except one time when she did swear at school, and the teacher called home to inform levi. this school, the new school, was much more supportive. didn’t punish their younger years for cursing.

t: mr ackerman?

l: what’s wrong? is my kid alright?

t: yes, yes! she’s perfectly fine. however, i’m just calling to let you know that she did swear at another child earlier

l: oh really

t: yes, she did say the f and the s word, so i was just wondering if she might’ve picked it up from anywhere?

l, exaggerating: wha- well, i can assure you mrs roberts, she definitely has not got that from me, i am definitely going to be having a strong word with her when i pick her up!

the said word: “don’t cuss at school, ‘kay? i know dad does but maybe when you’re older.”

one night, levi tosses and turns in bed, can’t sleep. remembers when his baby became his. how little her hands and feet were, ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes which were his to look after. the blanket, which he kept, smelt like her, and the matching crocheted boots laid in his dresser drawer. he missed it. it made him think, it made him realise - he wants another baby. it couldn’t hurt, could it? to have another lil one.

but he couldn’t, really, could he. no partner. he’d be denied for adoption straight away, wouldn’t even get remotely considered. he’d just have to wait a little longer, ‘is all.

when levi turns twenty five and his kid is eight, they move out and stop renting the “apartment.” levi had worked many jobs over the years, multiple at once, even took his kid to work with him the majority of the time, just to be able to put money away for new opportunities like these, if his kid ever wanted to go to university and further her education. they buy a real house this time, a proper one, with more than three rooms.

when she grows up a little bit and gets older and starts to develop her own mind, thoughts, and opinions, levi gets a little sad. the day she turned 11 he swore it only felt like yesterday that he was bringing her home from the hospital, to their home and to her crib.

the day she goes to big school, levi cried after seeing her off. it wasn’t fair. when did she get so big again? was he watching?

the time flies like there’s no tomorrow. before he, and his kid, knew it, it was finals week. then, college, then, the decision of what she should study in university. levi wants whatever she wants. their bond only becomes closer, they act like friends rather than a parent and a child.

k: what would you do if i came home pregnant one day

l: kick you out

k: you’re one to talk

l: don’t talk to your father that way

k: hange says you were quite the man hoe back in the day

l: okay, “the day,” that you’re on about, was sixteen years ago, alright, and never listen to hange, just don’t

k: sixteen or sixty?

l: you are an asshole

his child grew up so quick. and if he had the chance to redo it all, he would, just so he could relive it again. he says he hates children, but no, he couldn’t really, and he doesn’t, he thinks about having more every day. dad levi = panty dropper. there, i said it.

i love dad levi so much i’m contemplating rn if i should write a fic about this (after the jearmin exchange ofc) because i just cant get enough of this material. if you have any dad levi fics, please share them!

#incorrectsnkships #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi ackerman #dad levi #dilfs tbf #eryx responds #levi being a dad #sort of dodged the question on this one #it was very self indulgent

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kkrazy256 · 3 years

Note

“ i thought i lost you. ” with my fav bros Fox and Thorn? <3 (all the sentences are soooo good)

Hey Amiko <3 Hope you don't mind that I used this prompt for CommanderFoxWeek @loving-fox-hours

Title: Redemption Inside the Grave

Prompt(s): Day 2: Hope | Forgiveness, "I thought I lost you"

Warnings: None

Characters: Commander Fox and Commander Thorn

Additional Tags: Post- Scipio, Commander Fox Needs a Hug

Word Count: 1821

[On Ao3]

The amount of datawork that sits on Fox’s desk after a mission is usually a good indicator of how it went.

Good missions start with stacks of blueprints, detailed strategies, and the files of his best troops. These missions end with minimal thanks (it’s expected, it’s what they’re made for. What need is there to show gratitude?), and most troopers on the file with their status update still green and labeled functioning. There isn't much datawork for these types of missions.

Bad missions start hurried by time and Senators, with minimal preparation, and not enough vode (never enough vode). They end with everyone important mad. Mad at him (of course, who else? He deserves it. He deserves it all. He fucked up. He’s always fucking up). It ends with spitting insults about incompetence and hurling threats of decommissioning. But none of it hurts. At least it never hurts more than the blocks of red (deceased) on the files he has to read through and sign off on. These missions end with more vode coming back in bodybags than on their feet, and Fox can’t help but think, I did that to them.

The worst missions? It’s the ones where he wakes up underwater, a weight heavier than an anvil over his chest, stealing every breath and pushing him deeper and deeper into the dark. Missions where he does things he doesn’t fully comprehend beyond I followed my orders, I am a good soldier. Only to look back and think, is he?

It’s holding up his blaster with still hands and perfect calm. It’s taking deadly aim even when he sees the resignation in Rex’s eyes and feels nothing. Nothing until the body hits the floor and he can’t take his own helmet off to pay respects because what right does he have? Because his hands are finally starting to shake, the weight of his actions hitting all at once and dragging him to the bottom of the ocean floor.

But this,

Fox looks down at the stack of datapads on his desk. The room is dark, the desk lamp unplugged and on the ground. There are no windows. The air is stuffy and stagnant; he wonders if they are cleaning the vents again.

The top datapad lights up when he lifts it. The halo of blue illuminates his immediate area. The helmet sitting at the corner looks purple, the visor staring back at him like a void. Every time he blinks, it burns from somewhere behind his eyes. Fox doesn’t remember the last time he truly slept. (Before the ARC trooper, before Scipio —)

It’s a mission summary report, written hastily enough for there to be a few typos. It’s short, barely a few paragraphs long, and his eyes glide over the words without retaining anything. His focus is on the attached list of updated statuses.

It’s all red. Red Red Red Red.

He thinks these types of missions are even worse than the ones where he doesn’t have control.

Red Red Red.

These missions should not end like this. They go prepared, they go with their best.

Red Red Red.

So why do they end like this?

Red Red Red —

Green.

The stack of datapads shift slightly, and the desk trembles as a shadow settles on the edge.

“If it breaks, I’m stealing your desk.” He pinches the bridge of his nose hard, and the throbbing ebbs away into something dull.

“Does that mean you’ll do my datawork too?” Thorn’s voice is light and teasing, but something’s off. He leans forward to pick up the helmet and the blue lights up his face. His eyes are tired, but the crinkling around the edges always betray his mirth. There’s no crinkling there right now; Thorn just looks exhausted. His hands turn the helmet around, fingers tracing over the painted wings on the temples.

“I’ll do it for Scipio.” Fox blurts out, and the fingers pause.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do,” Fox doesn’t know why he does, but there’s something pressing in the back of his brain, telling him that he shouldn’t let Thorn do it, “you should get some rest. Remedy would kick your sheb if he finds out you came here instead of to medbay.”

“Well, you don’t have to snitch.” Thorn sniffs and Fox shakes his head with a scoff. He picks up the stylus to start going over the report in detail.

A gloved hand lands on the corner of the datapad, and Fox looks up. Thorn’s eyes reflect the blue glow, flickering to read the upside-down words.

“Hawk found me.” Thorn whispers.

Fox remembers the pilot during one of the 501st’s shore leaves. Thorn’s batchmate is slightly more serious than Thorn himself, but they share the same air of wild freedom, unable to be tied down. He remembers them taking off their helmets with matching grins, showing him their twin emblazoned wings.

“How’d he look?”

“Horrified. Scared.” Thorn’s laugh is humorless, “I thought he was going to kill me himself if I wasn’t a—.....it wasn’t pretty, Fox.” he swallows hard, “there wasn’t much we could do.”

“...You went with less than two platoons. None of us were expecting the level of activity you got.”

The hand pulls back, leather creaking under the pressure of a clenched fist, “I lost them all, ori’vod.”

“But you’re here.” Fox places his own hand over Thorn’s. Everything feels cold, “I...it’s not your fault.”

“I think if any fingers are to be pointed, it would be towards the commanding officer during the mission, Fox. Which would be me.”

“You weren’t supposed to be the one leading Scipio.” Fox snarls and the aftermath of his outburst echoes through the room. He takes a shuddering breath.

“I was.”

“Fox…”

The air gets stuck in his lungs, and he kneads his palms into his eyes hard enough to see sparks behind the lids.

Scipio was supposed to be his mission. But he was—still is, a complete and utter wreck. After the incident with the ARC trooper, he hadn’t had a chance to stop. It became a blur of meetings. With the Chancellor, with Skywalker, with Rex, with his Guard. All with little variation. Everyone just wanted to know, what happened?

And Fox didn’t have a good answer for any of them.

He’s so tired.

And Thorn had found him in his office then, just as he did now. He had found Fox sitting at his desk with the stylus in a death grip, staring at plans and contingencies. Found him running on fumes that not even caf could fix at that point. Found Fox in his arms immediately to steady him when he stood and started careening to the side.

I fucked up, Thorn. I fucked up so bad.

I’ll go to Scipio. We’ll talk more when I get back, alright? Please get some rest, ori’vod. Please.

And Fox had agreed. Because he was tired.

Tired of seeing the ARC trooper’s bone-white armor out of the corner of his eye every time he started to slip. Tired of the Chancellor’s oily praise for a job well done in killing a vod for the Republic. Tired of Skywalker’s needling curiosity. Tired of Rex not blaming him. Tired of everyone telling him, it’s—

“Fox, it’s not your fault.” Thorn’s words from before the mission mesh with the words that Thorn’s repeating right now.

“Well, who’s is it then?” Fox snaps, slamming his palms back down on the desk. His vision blurs with random patterns from the prolonged darkness, and Thorn’s image swims in front of him. He had gotten about an hour of unconsciousness before his comm beeped with urgent matters from the Chancellor. He’s been on his feet ever since.

He should’ve just stole some stims and gone to Scipio.

“Why aren’t you all angry?” He continues, the plastic of the datapad strains under his grip, “not you, not Stone, not Thire. Not—” He stutters, “not Rex. None of you are, and I don’t understand .”

“Why do you want us to be, Fox?”

He falters, heart stuck in his throat. It beats erratically and his stomach turns.

If they’re mad, there’s something to work with. He can apologize (even if it means absolutely nothing). Amends can be made (how. You fucking bastard, how?) He can fix it. He has to fix it.

How?

“You want us to be angry because you’re angry with yourself.” Thorn sets his helmet down, leaning forward to study Fox with dark eyes that see through his very core.

His lips curl upwards.

“Oh, ori’vod. You want us to forgive you.”

There are tears in Thorn’s eyes. (Or are they his own?)

Thorn’s forehead presses against his, and Fox presses back with a sobbing exhale.

“You already have it. We’re not the ones you’re looking for forgiveness from.”

A strand of long hair slips from Thorn’s ponytail and brushes against his cheek. It hits Fox with a sudden urge for how things used to be. Back when the war had only just started, and they were all shiny and thought things would get better. Back when he had enough time and energy to sit in the command lounge and braid Thorn’s hair clumsily.

Hound’s better at this than I am, you know.

Mmm, yeah but I want my ori’vod to braid my hair.

Spoiled little kih’vod.

“I thought I lost you.” He manages between hitched keening breaths ( when had he started to break down? Just now? Months ago? Two years ago?)

“I’m never gone, ori’vod.” Thorn hums, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck. It’s so cold, “Just marching—”

Far away.

The door to his office opens, and Fox jumps back.

“...You alright, Fox?” Stone stands at the entrance, a datapad in his hand.

Fox blinks, glancing down at the one in his own hands.

The list of troopers stares back, every name in red.

The Separatist Blockade was successfully broken through. Senator Padmé Amidala was safely extracted from Scipio under the command of Jedi General Anakin Skywalker and the 501st Legion.

No other Republic survivors were extracted. Recovery efforts have been approved and engaged.

— CT-4991 (Hawk)

“Fox?”

“...What is it?”

“The recovery mission on Scipio just returned. We’re heading to the crematorium right now.” Stone shifts on his feet, “you coming?”

“...Yeah.” Fox reaches for the helmet on his desk, red and black without any wings. His eyes feel crusty and swollen. At this point, he has no idea if they’re even open and seeing the right things anymore.

He’s so tired.

Fox slips the helmet on and stands. The world spins, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He walks towards Stone.

“You sure you’re alright? I could have Thire take the next shift. He’s—” Stone’s breath hitches, “he’s up for promotion now anyway.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fox says as he passes his Second, stepping out into the hallway.

He’ll be fine.

[ao3] if you wish to drop a kudo/comment :)

#commanderfoxweek2021 #commander fox #tcw #star wars #sw mine

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elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

Note

Ok ok ok so how about this! Reader is scared of horror movies and spiders! Like shit scared and Peter constantly teases her about it (her knowing about Spider-Man is up to you). So one day him, reader, mj, Ned are having a sleepover at peters and during the horror movie reader gets scared n screams..and Peter teases her again so she gets hurt and runs to his room. He goes after her to apologise but then tells her not to turn around or something and reader thinks he’s just teasing her again and wants to walk away but then peter just kisses her! Cause there was actually a spider behind her and Peter panicked cause he didn’t want reader to get scared again.

Cue Ned n mj being so happy cause they finally confessed and end up embarrassing Peter.

This is so specific sorry but thank you🥺❤️

this is so cute!!! i wrote this really quickly so sorry if there are some typos :/

~~~~~~~~

“Okay guys, what should we watch?” Peter asks as he crawls out from the makeshift pillow fort in his living room.

You, Ned, MJ, and Peter were all spending the night at his house. Seeing as it’s already the middle of the night and you’re all extremely tired, you decided to watch a movie before you go to bed.

MJ smirks, “We should watch It!” This earns nods of approval from everyone... well everyone except for you.

“Absolutely not!” you deadpan, “I am not watching a scary movie before I go to seep. No way.”

Ned laughs, “Come on Y/N, it’s more funny than scary. Plus it’s not even that scary anyways, you’re such a baby.”

“Am not! I just don’t like scary movies!”

“Y/N, you made me turn off A Bug’s Life because you were too freaked out that the bugs were talking. You’re a baby.” Peter chuckles.

“I just don’t like bugs okay? Sue me!”

“Yeah I’m surprised she still lets you hang around since you’re Spiderman Peter. Hey Y/N did you know he can summon an army of spiders whenever he wants?” Ned jokes.

You’re eyes go wide, “What? Peter is that true? Please tell me that’s a joke.”

“Oh no it’s not a joke, I can control all spiders. Actually, why don’t I get some to come over here right now?”

You shriek, “Nononono! Peter don’t please don’t!”

Ned, Peter, and MJ all burst out laughing. “He can’t actually do that Y/N, he was just being stupid.” MJ giggles.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, though you’re extremely embarrassed. You did just kind of prove their point that you were scared of basically everything. You know that they’re just joking around, but it still hurts your feelings a little.

“You know what,” you announce, “let’s watch It, who cares if it’s scary.”

Peter raises his eyebrows, “Oh, are you sure? We really don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to. Let’s do it.” You don’t actually want to watch it. But you do want to prove your friends wrong. So you’re just going to have to push through for this one.

“Well okay then, guess we’re watching It!” Peter grabs the remote and turns on the movie, crawling back to his spot next to you.

Already you’re hating this. Even the intro has creepy music that puts you on edge. The movie hasn’t even properly started yet and it’s still freaking you out. You snuggle deeper into your spot on the couch and hope that you are able to fall asleep before any of the really scary parts. You figure that nothing super scary will happen in the first ten minutes, so as long as you drift off before then you’re fine.

Unfortunately, you’re very wrong. Not even five minutes into the movie and there’s already a creepy clown pulling a kid into a sewer. You aren’t expecting it, and the jump scare makes you scream. You bury your head in the pillow, trying to get the terrifying image of Pennywise the clown out of your head.

Instead of comforting you or making sure you’re okay, your friends just laugh.

“Hey, guys, maybe we should turn this off I think it’s a little too much for baby Y/N here.” Peter chokes out in between laughs.

“Yeah, maybe we need to turn on a Disney movie instead.” Ned adds.

“I don’t know guys, the villains can be pretty scary, that might even be too much for her!” MJ giggles.

You’ve had enough. You don’t want to spend any more time with your friends tonight if all they’re going to do is make fun of you. You throw your blanket off and stand up from the couch carefully as not to knock the fort down. You quickly crawl out from under it and storm off to Peter’s room leaving your friends in silence. You slam the door shut, but question when you don’t hear it click. You spin around to see Peter holding the door open, staring at you.

“Peter, go away, I don’t want to hear you make fun of me anymore.”

He slips into the room and closes the door behind him. “I’m not here to make fun of you, I promise.” he pauses. “Y/N I’m sorry, we were just trying to poke fun, we weren’t trying to hurt your feelings. Well, at least I wasn’t, I cant speak for Ned and MJ but Im sure they weren’t either.”

“Well it wasn’t funny Peter. I get that you think of me as a baby because I’m scared of everything but I can’t help it. The least you could do is make sure I’m okay.”

“I know, and again I’m really sorry for not doing that. It was stupid of me to make fun of you and I should have just turned on another movie. I hate seeing you hurt and now I can’t even tell you how bad I feel.”

You can tell that he’s being genuine and that he truly feels bad, so you decide to forgive him. He is your best friend after all, he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you. “It’s okay Pete, that you for apologizing.” you smile.

“Oh thank god. I thought you were gonna be mad at me forever.” He rushes towards you and engulfs you in a big hug, nestling his face in your neck. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

You giggle, “Thank you Pete, but can we please go back out there and watch a different movie?”

He looks up at you, his arms still wrapped around your middle, “Oh, yeah sure.” He pulls away from you slowly and you start to turn around towards the door to head back out until his eyes widen. “DONT TURN AROUND!”

You’re taken aback, staring at Peter with furrowed brows. “Huh?”

He looks at you sternly, “Don’t. Turn. Around.”

You sigh, “Peter come on, we just talked about this. I told you not to make fun of me like that anymore. You promised.”

“I’m not joking. Seriously don’t look behind you.”

“Oh my god Peter you’re too much.” You start to turn around to head back out when he grabs your arm harshly, pulling you towards him. Before you know it, his lips are on yours and his arms are back around your waist.

Holy shit. You’re best friend is kissing you. The boy you’ve liked for years is literally kissing you!

Before you get the chance to really kiss him back, he pulls away. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to do that I just didn’t know how else to make you not turn around so I kissed you and I shouldn’t have done it and now I’ve messed everything up and-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his once again, this time truly getting to kiss him. You wrap you arms around his neck with his still snaked around your waist. He pulls you impossibly closer and your lips move in sync, as if they were made for each other. You finally pull away when you run out of breath, your forehead resting against Peter’s.

“Woah.” he whispers.

“Yeah.”

“So I take it that you like me back?” Peter asks.

You giggle, pressing another quick peck on his lips, “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Awesome.” he pauses, looking behind you at the door. “There’s a spider behind you by the way.”

“What?” you freak out, jumping up and forcing Peter to catch you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter laughs, “I did! But you insisted that I was just joking. So I had to kiss you instead.”

“Oh. Well, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry. I got to kiss you.” Peter smirks causing you to blush. “Can I put you down now so I can take are of this spider?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He captures the spider and throws it out the window, not wanting to kill it. You both walk back to the living room hand in hand to see a giggling Ned and MJ.

“I was wondering how long that was gonna take for you to finally get together.” MJ smirks.

You blush, “How did you-”

“We heard everything, including you screaming about the spider.” Ned laughs.

“Shut up!” you giggle.

“Whatever, just please don’t be making out in our fort while Ned and I are trying to sleep. At least get a room.”

You and Peter blush, but MJ and Ned usher you over into the fort. Peter sits down and you snuggle in his lap, his arms wrapped around you to keep you warm. Much to your chagrin, MJ turns It back on, but Peter’s warmth lulls you to sleep quickly and you miss the majority of the movie, sleeping comfortably in his arms.

#anon #request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker blurb #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #soph writes #soph's blurbs

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yesttoheaven · 3 years

Text

I SEE YOU – chapter III

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.6k

warnings – just fluff and a little bit of angst

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

🔴 chapter one. chapter two. chapter three.

The actress looked around, enjoying the apartment where Arthur lived with his mother. The place was small, very different from what she was used to, but this simplicity was nostalgic and reminded her of her childhood; when everything seemed simple, despite the difficulties.

Unfortunately Arthur was still at work, but Penny assured her that he would be back soon and added that Y/N could wait for him. At first Brian didn't approve of this idea, considering that the actress was going to an important dinner tonight, but he should know that it’s impossible to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Brian is probably driving to Misty's house, ready to take her to Y/N's apartment, exactly as they agreed the day before. The only difference would be the absence of the actress, but this would be justified with: "She's at Angelina's." Although the plan was apparently perfect, leaving her alone with practically unknown people was worrisome. Y/N's safety was his responsibility. If something happened to her, Brian would never forgive himself, but she stated with all the letters that she would stay inside the apartment, waiting for him with Arthur and Penny. And they were not bad people.

Y/N didn't like to involve Brian in this web of lies, but Misty knew how to be stifling when she wanted to. Visiting Arthur was not illegal, but she didn't see it that way. In her conception, to be friends with Y/N Y/N/L you need to have a bank account with many zeros after the comma.

Placing her manager at the bottom of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fell on the small table next to the couch she was on. A few magazines were spread out and a shy smile crossed her lips. She would probably never get used to it.

Noticing the young woman's interest in magazines, Penny said:

"This actress is so graceful."

"You think? I hear only bad things about her." Y/N replied, taking one of the magazines and placing it next to her face, reproducing the cover.

When the realization reached Arthur's mother, she looked at Y/N with wide eyes, thinking it was a mirage caused by the effects of the medicines she used daily. When she opened the door and found the woman on the other side, Penny didn't imagine that Y/N was Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman who is in all these magazines.

"That was my first cover... six years have passed and I'm still nervous on camera." The actress smiled, leaving the magazine with the other copies.

"You need to excuse me, I'm too old for that... I watch your movies with my son and I was unable to recognize you."

"It's all right, these photos are usually a little bit manipulated. Maybe that's why you didn't recognize me."

The conversation continued pleasantly between them. Penny Fleck didn't feel like she was talking to one of Gotham's biggest actresses; Y/N seemed to be just a nice neighbor, the one who always shows up for a visit at the end of the day. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, Penny was comfortable, sharing with her a little bit of his life with Arthur, or Happy as she used to call her son. The actress considered this point intriguing, because when she met Arthur, sadness was the only thing that existed on his face like a second skin, but maybe she was just impressed.

...

Every day was exactly the same for Arthur. He went to work, spent the day spinning his sign in front of a store or visited sick children in hospitals – this was his favorite; Carnival loved to bring joy to them. The time to return home represented some relief for the clown. This meant that his co-workers would have to wait for the next day to continue making fun of him. Arthur would always be a joke for everyone.

Tired for another exhausting day at work – or just being who he is – all Arthur wanted at that moment was to relax by smoking a cigarette. Dragging himself out of the elevator, he made his way to his old apartment and took the keys out of his pocket to open the door. He warned that he was back, but his mother did not respond. Arthur suspected she was asleep, but as soon as he put his feet in the living room, his body froze.

The likelihood of them seeing each other again was one in a million, but here she was, surprising him once again. There was no plausible explanation for what he was feeling at the moment. Accelerated heart. Sweaty palms. And the most sincere smile of his entire life. Arthur was genuinely happy. Seeing the actress again was enough to erase all his problems. Y/N was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. There was something about her, something that you notice from a long distance, but that Arthur can't put into words.

"Happy, your friend was waiting for you." Penny broke the silence, bringing them to reality again.

With a smile, Y/N stood up, running her hands over the dress she wore. She approached the man and greeted him in her soft voice:

"Hi, Arthur. How've you been?" Surprised by her own courage, she touched his shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek.

Arthur felt his cheeks turn into two tomatoes and he automatically looked at the ground, hiding a shy smile in the corner of his lips. But knowing that she was waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath, looking at her again and saying:

"Hey, I'm... I'm good. How about you?"

"I couldn’t be better. I hope I'm not bothering you, your mom said I could stay to wait for you."

"Don't say that, you never bother, dear! Now I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk." The woman tried to get up and Arthur quickly moved to stand beside her, helping Penny back to the bedroom.

It was easy to see how much he loves his mother.

A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the living room, looking a little nervous about the situation. It was possible to state that the actress felt the same way, remembering the reason that brought her to the other side of the city. She didn't want to say anything in front of Penny, but now she could and the words were stuck in her throat.

"I don't know where to start... I'm so sorry for the way you were treated. They couldn't have done that to you, Arthur."

"How d-did you know?"

"Brian talked to the receptionist..." She said, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control herself, but that was not enough. "I'm so mad at Susan! Who does she think she is to treat you that way?"

"Don't be m-mad at her because of me... It's okay, I'm used to it." Arthur replied, trying to reassure the actress. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for erasing her smile, but his words made Y/N even more concerned.

"What are you saying?"

"My life is... different from yours." He murmured, shaking his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but the sad expression on his face showed just the opposite. "I d-don't want to bother you with my stupid problems. This is not worth your time."

"But I have all the time in the world to hear you. Please tell me..." Y/N insisted, still trying to understand what he meant by 'I'm used to it'.

Susan had compared Arthur to a criminal; someone dangerous. She judged him by his appearance. His actions. His somewhat confused way of speaking. No. This is not normal. This is not something that Arthur should just 'get used to'.

"C-Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, shifting the focus of the conversation in the blink of an eye. Just a few more words and he could feel the laughter in the back of his throat, begging to leave. And that was not what he wanted.

"But..." The actress tried again, but acknowledged it was time to stop. She showed one of her beautiful smiles and that was enough to warm the man's heart. "Water, please."

Following Arthur into the kitchen, she stood by the door, watching him. Arthur was not a bad person – and he wasn't a criminal either, as Susan thought. Y/N just wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him better. It was as if the man still has his face paint on; as if he were still Carnival and she desperately wanted to meet the man hiding behind the paint, but Y/N understood that invading his space was not the best way to achieve this.

"Oh, thanks!" She thanked him, holding the cup and drinking, as they walked back to the living room. Pointing to the magazines, she fired: "These magazines are old... Are you a collector or something?"

"Not exactly... It was a few months ago, this guy was throwing the magazines in the trash because nobody wanted to buy, but he sold it to me for half the price..." Arthur's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He scratched the back of his neck, completely embarrassed, but the actress just started laughing.

"It's okay, Arthur. I like your sincerity." She added, finding the situation funny. "But tell me, what is your favorite?"

The man pointed to the third magazine without thinking twice. Unlike the others, this cover was focused only on Y/N's angelic face. She was holding a white rose; the petals of the flower touching her lips painted in bright red.

"You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life." He thought aloud, making her blush with his sincere words.

Y/N was constantly praised. Men and women. Different ages. Nationalities. Some were adorable, others completely depraved, but no one was able to make her feel what she was feeling right now.

Arthur was surprised at himself. This trust was not constant in his life, but close to her, it was as if he wanted to try. It was easy, because he was just telling the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

"So... what is this?" After a few minutes of silence, she asked, pointing again at the small table in the center of the living room.

"Oh, this is my journal!" The man picked up his journal and sat down next to her on the couch. "My therapist forced me to have one. I write my thoughts, some new jokes and other things..."

"I love jokes, but I need to confess that clowns are not my point."

"Don't you like clowns?" Arthur was not angry with her, in fact he thought it was funny. "How is this possible?"

"Don't judge me! It's nothing personal... I don't hate them completely, i just get a little nervous." Y/N started to laugh, being accompanied by him. When the laughter stopped, she said: "Now the million dollar question... What did you think of 'Midnight Seduction'? But you need to promise me that you will be honest with your criticism, right?"

The man shook his head in agreement.

"So I can start by saying that the ending was not as I expected, she died..." Arthur knew it was just a fictional death, but Y/N's flawless performance took that scene to another level. He was paralyzed by her talent. Y/N was definitely born to shine. Her filmography was rich.

"My Diana..." The actress spoke fondly about the character, remembering the day she read the script for the first time. Nobody was expecting this. "I like to imagine that she had a second chance. No prostitution. No drugs. Without HIV. And with someone by your side to love."

"This is a good ending, I like it... Rosalind was the only person who cared about her."

"Oh, did you notice?" Y/N asked, leaving the glass of water on the table. "I mentioned this in an interview, but the next day everyone was distorting my words!"

"It's just... love. What's wrong with that?"

"Unfortunately some people will never understand what love is."

Looking at Y/N and Arthur, it was possible to see that they were opposite poles. Their lives were completely different, but it was intriguing how they always found a connection. Time passed quickly, but they were still involved in a long conversation. Y/N loved to hear the man tell about his work as a clown – obviously he didn't mention the bad side. The actress told about NGOs, some trips around the globe and the preparation to play her characters. Each character was a new challenge and Arthur found it fascinating that she lived several lives in just one.

When the conversation followed a delicate path, Y/N considered changing this path, but she gave up and stood up, walking around the living room with a nostalgic smile growing on her lips. Arthur watched a few interviews, but hearing the actress speak directly to him about her childhood in Narrows was different. She lived in a simple house with her mother and brother. The situation was not easy, they did not have much money. Today her mother and brother are living in France, enjoying a wonderful life because of Y/N and her promising career. She missed them. She talked to them on the phone every day, but that was her best decision. Gotham has become a hostile, completely violent city, but it was in the middle of this violent city that her life changed...

"I was working at a restaurant in the downtown when Misty saw me in that hideous uniform..." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "She said I was too pretty to clean shitty toilets, but cleaning shitty toilets was what puts money on the table at the end of the month... So she said she had an indecent proposal for me. I figured she would offer me a job at a nightclub... I probably would have accepted it. I was desperate to help my family, but she asked if i would like to be famous... A simple answer, "yes" and see how I look six years later. That horrible uniform became the most expensive designer dresses in the world, my mom has a beautiful house and everything she deserves, my little brother is having all the support for his studies and that girl with dreams turned into a famous actress, but..."

Unhappy.

Y/N completed in her mind, she was not strong enough to say that. She was also not ungrateful. Misty turned the girl's life into a fairy tale, but at the same time it took her life. In six years, she never had a break. Her manager was always bringing her a new job. The actress knew this was important for her career, but she didn't have time for anything other than work. She didn't have time to visit her own family. She was stuck.

Arthur heard someone knock on the door, but he kept his eyes on Y/N. The woman was in absolute silence and close to tears. Her smile was gone. She was suffering in front of him and he didn't know what to do to get this pain out of her.

"You should check this out." She murmured and at first he didn't react, but when the person knocked on the door again, Arthur stood up.

The actress took advantage of the moment to compose herself, trying to normalize her breathing, but when she heard that voice, her body just froze. The next minute the redhead appeared in the living room holding her Prada bag and looking at everything with an expression of disgust, but when she saw Y/N, she said:

"Mon cher, why didn't you tell me you wanted to visit your new friend? You know you don't have to lie to me."

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

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

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wellsjahasghost · 4 years

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the monster in my head

A/N: VILLAIN BELLAMY, TASTY. sooo this bellarke ficlet was born because i thought, what if bellamy went all void stiles on us in the final season after being captured?? like obviously, not gonna happen but it’s such a juicy concept.

disclaimer: my knowledge of season 5-7 is so sparse it is laughable. i just wanted to write a mind-wiped!bellamy drabble basically, so please excuse my lack of detail in literally every other aspect of this. also all the typos, i wrote this really fast lol.

Clarke wakes up tied to a chair and her first thought is, I can’t believe he tricked me.

Except he’d gotten her guard down. One second she’d been walking away from the others, looking for something to eat on this godforsaken planet they’d landed on, and the next-- he’d appeared.

Right in front of her. The sight of him disarmed her so much, she’d only been halfway through saying his name when he hit her, and she’d been knocked out.

Now here he is again.

Bellamy, sitting in a chair opposite to her-- but he’s not the Bellamy she knows.

Except he is, she realizes with a start. He’s the Bellamy of before Praimfaya, his hair curly and unruly over his forehead, his jaw clean-shaven. His familiar, handsome face would settle her if it weren’t for the cold look in his eye.

“Bellamy?” she says slowly, drowsily. Am I talking to Bellamy?

“Clarke,” he says pleasantly, and she realizing he’s twiddling a pocket knife in his fingers. Even the way he says her name is cold, and she didn’t realize how warmly he used to say it until just right now.

The way he tilts his head to consider her is entirely foreign. Not in the way of people who were controlled by ALIE, where their movements were robotic, un-humanlike. No, this comes entirely from him, just... a different version of him. He’s wearing different clothes, too. All black. Black jacket too. His clothes and his skin and his hair are all clean, and pristine, like he’s been well cared for while he was gone.

Clarke, at this point, has grown used to the impossible happening. She just accepts in this moment that this Bellamy is not her Bellamy, and focuses on other things, like getting out of here and living another day to find out what happened to him.

They’re in a tiny, one-room cabin. Tools all over the place. Her hands are tied behind her. She stretches her wrists experimentally. No slack at all.

“What are you doing?” she asks Bellamy, who’s just been watching her take in her surroundings.

“We’ve been looking for you,” he says, still fiddling with his knife.

“Who’s been looking for me?” No answer. “Bellamy, what-- what’s going on? I haven’t seen you in--”

“Don’t you ever get tired of talking?” Bellamy says, bored. He tilts his head suddenly and stands. “Time to go. They’re waiting for us.”

“What do you mean it’s time to--” she cuts herself off as he strides towards her. She stays entirely still as he pulls the gun from his thigh holster and presses it to her temple.

“You try anything, and we see what your brain looks like decorating the wall.”

His voice is casual. Her heart beats faster.

“That’s a lie,” she guesses. “You’re bringing me to someone, and they want me alive. They wouldn’t be happy if you killed me.”

He laughs, lowly. "You willing to bet your life on that?”

He leans over her and cuts her free from the chair.

“Walk to the door,” he says against her ear, and she obediently stands.

“Do you remember me?” she asks, as he nudges her forward with the gun to her temple. He’s still got that knife in his other hand. It would be perfect to cut through the ropes around her wrists. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know who you are, Clarke. I just don’t care.” He presses the gun against her temple harder.

“Someone’s controlling you,” she guesses. From his silence, she guesses she’s right. “Are you still Bellamy?”

“That’s right.”

“Bellamy would never do this. He wouldn’t threaten to blow my brains out.”

“Well, I just did,” Bellamy replies. “So I guess you don’t know me very well.”

They keep walking forward. Towards the open door, revealing a grassy clearing beyond. “That’s okay,” Clarke replies. “I know it’s not you I’m talking to right now. I forgive you, Bellamy. If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you.”

He falters. That’s when Clarke makes her move.

She ducks from under his gun. He fires-- he fires!-- into the empty space where her head was. She tackles him around the middle, making them both tumble into the ground.

Bellamy’s caught off guard-- his movements slow, clumsy for a second, and she presses her advantage. She’s on top of him. He’s still got a tight grip on his knife, and she wraps her wrists around it, tearing through the rope binding her hands together with one strong pull.

He seems to wake up from whatever confusion he was in when she scrambles off him, his knife in her hand. She’s only made it two steps before he grabs her ankle and tries to yank her down again. Before she can fall, she grabs onto the chair he’d been sitting on for leverage. It crashes down with them.

Bellamy tries to pull her towards him. She grabs the chair leg and swings it over-- the chair is surprisingly light--bashing whatever part of his body she can reach behind him.

He grunts and releases her. She staggers up and sprints out of the cabin.

She’s in the middle of a clearing, in a forest she doesn’t recognize, with a sky up above that she doesn’t recognize either. She has no fucking clue where she is.

Right down to what planet she is on.

“Not so fast, Clarke...”

His voice is a sing-song from behind her. She whips her head around, and there he is, wiping blood from his face, but not looking angry at all. He’s walking towards her leisurely, and tucking the gun back into his thigh holster. He actually looks on the verge of a smile. Like he’s enjoying this.

“What now, princess? Where you gonna go?” he says softly, and the words are familiar and horrible in their new context. A chill races up her spine. She turns back around and sprints into the forest.

She’s running blindly for a few seconds, completely terrified out of her mind. She trips over a root, and then she’s tumbling down a steep bank, sand spraying around her as she falls. Pain explodes through her shoulder, and then the back of her head, and her back, and she just keeps falling and falling, and she doesn’t know which way is up or down, just that everything hurts.

She finally gets to the bottom of the hill, rolling into freezing cold water. She’s fallen into a stream. It takes her several moments to gather herself, and in that time she distantly hears footsteps coming down the bank. No. No.

Gasping, she rolls off her back, onto her hands and knees. Looks up only to see a hand coming down at her.

Bellamy yanks at her hair. Hard. She cries out, and he kneels beside her, prying the knife from her hands and tossing it far down the stream.

“You tried to shoot me in the head,” she gasps, unable to grasp that concept. It just makes no sense. The people he’s bringing her to must want her alive. “The people in control of you-- they wouldn’t have wanted me dead-- so why--”

He dunks her head underwater. She fights, struggles against him, throws her elbows, but he’s firm. He pulls her out after just a second. She’s gasping for air, wet hair stuck to her cheeks, the cold drenching her shirt and making her shiver. He leans in close, his nose brushing against the shell of her ear.

“The thing the people in control of me don’t know,” he says softly, “is that they don’t have very good control of me at all.”

She turns her head to stare at him, the dark eyes she can see her own terrified reflection in, his freckled cheekbones she knows so well, the curls hanging over his eyes. If it weren’t for the things he was doing, the things he was saying, she would say he looks in this moment exactly like the Bellamy who stood beside her and ordered her to write her name down on a list.

Except right now there is a monster lurking under his skin, and she’s starting to think the people who unleashed it didn’t know what they were doing.

“What did they do to you, Bellamy?” she asks, her voice tender, and his grip on her hair loosens slightly. “What did they do to make you like this?”

But then he gets a better grip, and dunks her back in the water again.

He keeps her there for so long her lungs scream for air. She makes herself go limp, but right when she does, he pulls her out again, and easily blocks her attempts to hit him. Backhands her instead, stunning her with pain.

He knows her game. He knows her too damn well for playing dead to work.

Clarke gulps breath into her lungs. She can’t understand what happened to him to make him like this. She only knows it must have been horrible, worse than Mount Weather, worse than anything she could imagine. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop them from hurting you,” she says, again as soft as butter, and his eyes narrow. He dunks her back in.

When he pulls her back out, she manages to gasp, “I will kill the people who did this to you,” and he dunks her back in again. This time he holds her under for so long she actually blacks out for a second.

She comes to a moment later, leaning against his shoulder. He’s looking down at her with a storm in his eyes. She gazes up at him. He seems to be waiting for her to say something.

She says, “I’m going to do everything I can to bring you back--”

“Stop,” he says, and his voice sounds pained. “Just shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

He lets go of her, and his hands sink into his own hair, his expression hard and enraged and emotions flickering over his face a mile a minute. Clarke manages to clamber back on her hands and knees, shakily. She reaches to touch him.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, shoving her away, and she lets him, but then she puts her hands back on his face, gently. She traces her fingers over his jaw, brushes her thumb against the corner of his lip.

She’s sure she doesn’t imagine when he leans into it.

Suddenly Bellamy laughs, and the sound is bitter and disbelieving.

“I am trying to kill you,” he informs her. His voice is hoarse, as if he’s the one who’s been held underwater.

She smiles, gently again. “I know.”

Because she gets it, suddenly. His motivation to end her life is not because he actually wants her dead. The monster inside him is trying to kill whatever’s left of Bellamy, by killing her.

But he still can’t do it, and that’s how she knows there’s hope. That’s how she knows Bellamy is somewhere in there, fighting, maybe even at this very moment.

Bellamy reaches for her throat then, as if he might strangle her, but then it comes up and he brushes her wet hair out of her eyes, tucks the strand behind her ear. Like he can’t help himself. Then his hand tightens on the back of her neck again. His eyes harden, expression becoming blank. The monster has taken over completely again.

She leans in and kisses him.

He freezes. Her mouth is numb from the freezing water, but his is warm, and soft, and for half a second, he kisses her back.

She doesn’t know if she’s kissing the monster, or Bellamy, or the monstrous part of Bellamy. She doesn’t give herself time to find out.

She reaches behind her for the biggest rock she can get her hands on in the stream, then swings it at his temple.

The thunking sound is horrible. He topples over on his side. The splash his body makes as he falls over in the stream is small, nearly inaudible over the loud rush of water.

She staggers to her feet, gets her hands under his arms and drags him out of the water. She deposits him in the mud and stares down at him. His head lolls to the side. His eyes are closed, his expression open and innocent. He might be sleeping, if it weren’t for the gash on his head, half-obscured by dark curls, where she hit him with the rock. He’s bleeding. She’ll have to clean it.

She runs her hand over her mouth, still breathing raggedly.

Bellamy. Bellamy. Bellamy.

She hefts him up from under his arms again and starts to drag him back up the bank, her heels slipping in the wet ground. But she’s determined. They’re not far from that cabin. She’ll tie him up in the same chair he had her in.

And then? She has no clue. There’s only one thing she knows.

She pauses to catch her breath, and leans in close to his ear to make a vow to him, a vow she has always made to him ever since they landed on Earth.

“I am not giving up on you.”

#mine #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #my bellarke fic #drabble #reblogs/shares always v much appreciated!!#THIS IS SO MESSY IM SORRY FOR ALL THE TYPOS/HOW INCOHERENT THIS MAY BE #jade writes #greatest hits

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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I was wondering: can you draw the Spirit Society versions of Rukia and Byakuya meeting Renji (as either his shinigami self or him as a human samurai) and some ensuing shenanigans (and a little RenRuki)? I’d love to see what you’d have in mind!

Phew! So, when I got this ask (which was ages ago), my first reaction was “you have severely overestimated my artistic skill”, but I’m always encouraging my kids to stick with their art even when it’s bad, so I decided to, uh, give this a shot. I learned a lot doing this project, even if mostly what I learned was “I should have done this in a different way” and also “Spirit Society Byakuya has way, way too much swag.”

Anyway, every day I wake up and make the difficult choice not to play BBS (I am playing 2 different restaurant-based phone games right now and that’s bad enough), so the only thing I know about Spirit Society I learned from 2 fanfics and the blessed people like @metalporsiempre who post screenshots from the BBS story mode. Even the BBS wiki was not particularly helpful, at least as far as lore goes, so please forgive me if I have gotten any of this tragically wrong.

BTW, this story takes place in interminable Filler Arc Time, where continuity doesn’t matter and the points are made up.

SO! I love the idea of BBS, and I would want this AU to be as BBS as possible. (My dream is to someday mock up some BBS dialogue screens for shitposting purposes). Therefore, the basic premise of this is that Renji is bumming around with Ichigo in the World of the Living and they end up going to Spirit Society in the usual way, which is to say, walking through a park and then they’re in Spirit Society. None of this is important, except for the fact that Renji is wearing the orange Zabimaru shirt, because the casual outfits are the #1 greatest thing about BBS.

Anyhoo, they go to Kuchiki Manor: Spirit Society Edition, and Renji ends up explaining all of this to Rukia while Ichigo facepalms off-screen.

The next thing that happens is that Byakuya would want to fight Renji, because Byakuya fights Renji in like 75% of the Bleach OPs, Byakuya fighting Renji is obligatory. The thing is, though, that Renji has fought Regular Byakuya approximately 9000 times and studied him for 30 years and Spirit Society Byakuya just met Renji 5 minutes ago, and I’m not saying B got trounced, but my feathery man got trounced. Not that he’ll admit it.

Presumably there’s a very filler arc-y plot, where Grimmjow is planning to invade the tengu territory with a bunch of demons or something like that, and Renji and Ichigo agree to hang out and be helpers. I thought it would be fun if, at some point, they have to disguise themselves as tengu warriors, because I... wanted to design some armor? What the EVEN, Polynya? They should probably be wearing masks, but drawing Byakuya’s mask was a nightmare, and by the time I finished drawing feathers on literally everything, I forgot about the masks anyway.

@kaicko pointed out to me too late that Orihime should have been in this AU and she was right, Orihime definitely would have fixed Ichigo’s horns for him. If this post makes it to 50 notes, I promise I will draw Orihime in tengu armor.

There will be a B part to this post tomorrow, which is a fanfic drabble that I wrote. I finished it, but you gotta let fanfic rest, like a good steak, or all the juices fall out you don’t catch all the typos because you’re so tired of looking at it.

#my fanart #wacky au ideas #spirit society #i dedicate their gold shin guards to the 2003 UDel men's hockey team #who wore yellow socks so they looked like chickens #YEEHAW FIGHTING BLUE HENS!#i also gave rukia a nezuko manicure bc i've been watching demon slayer #it's a good look!#i maxed out my procreate layers so many times on all of these #polynya did renji's hair magically grow longer in spirit society so he could braid it? something seems off #RENJI'S HAIR IS NOT BOUND BY THE LAWS OF TIME OR SPACE #this is a CANON FACT

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abouthoundsandlittlebirds · 3 years

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Yashahime Theory

I just made a small theory after reading this post. I recommend you guys to see it first and then come back here. Basically I will try to make SessKagu canon with the hints I’ve got from this anime (just like I do almost everytime).

In the beginning of the second ending of HnY, we can see a lot of rain’s scenes that connects each other.

I looked for the symbolism of rain and I’ve found this:

Rain is nourishment for the earth and is known as the water of life. Rain takes many forms and can be anything from a gentle sprinkling and light watering of the earth, up to a torrid downpour and possible flooding; life giving on one hand and potentially death dealing on the other.(...) Rain is a symbol for tears, sorrow, anger, cleansing, renewal, forgiveness and more -- usually on a heavenly, worldly or very large sort of personal scale. This is not a visual symbol for small sorrows or everyday events.(...) It was believed that only the proper union of the feminine principle YIN with the masculine YANG would yield rain. (Scooter My Daisy Heads)

Recall that we have a lot scenes that water is the main element in HnY, but I will only talk about some parallels of the second ending now.

During the InuYasha opening called Angelus, we have for the only time a SessKagu content and it is this picture:

Look at those colors and their poses.

In the dark side we can find the color matrix n.126 and this is the same color I’ve found in the second ending of HnY:

Even if the scale goes up and down and we can still find others matrices, being them more greenish and bluish, we still have a common matrix and that is why the background of the scenes I will share next can remind us of that iconic scene of the Angelus clip.

Compare those background with the SessKagu one and you will notice a connection to that scene with those.

If you pay close attention to SessKagu scene, you will see that above Kagura’s head the brightest area of the background is located and behind Sesshomaru’s left side you will have the darkest color. That is because the background color is fading.

The meaning of darkness and light can be seen as:

Darkness is often used to convey negativity: evil, death or the unknown. Light is used to convey something positive: goodness, life or hope. (Pen and the Pad)

When the opening Angelus was released, Sesshomaru didn’t know himself, that is why he was surprised in TFA to discover that his heart changed after Kagura’s death. In the other hand, Kagura had hope back then to be free, because she wanted to live her own life. That is why Kagura is represented under a bright light and Sesshomaru under a dark, even if Kagura belonged to the bad people and Sesshomaru to the good guys (even if he played solo).

Q: So, why did they choose this dark color as the background in the second ending of HnY?

A: Because it is the sequel of the SessKagu scene.

My first hint to it is the fading background’s color of the two pictures. While in the Angelus’ picture it starts with green and fades into a dark blue, in this second ending it begins with the dark blue which Angelus’ ended and fades into a darker hue (almost black).

We now have Sesshomaru pictured in a different angle of the one where he is with Kagura. Basically we will see events under Sesshomaru’s perspective and not Kagura’s, like it was in InuYasha OG. Every scene with SessKagu content in the original anime, it was drawn under Kagura’s PoV, never Sesshomaru’s (at least when they were together).

If we put the two Sesshomaru’s frames side-by-side, this is what we get:

I know that the direction that Sesshomaru is looking is different in those pictures (in the first he is looking straight ahead, and in the second he is looking to his left side). The meaning of this is too abstract for me to figure it out, but I would go with: he is wondering about something, because the symbolism of the background represents evil, death or the unknown.

There is also another difference in those pictures: the rain.

The symbolism of rain is related to strong feelings, very emotional ones. The rain appears into Towa, Setsuna, Moroha and Sesshomaru’s scenes.

We can relate Towa’s rain scene with the absence of her sister (since she appears in the Reiwa Era alone).

The Setsuna’s, we can believe it is because she is forgetting something, because of the dream butterfly that appears crossing her scene.

And Moroha, we can see that she is feeling lonely, she even hugs herself in the end of the rain scene, as if she was feeling cold.

And Sesshomaru’s rain scene, we can only talk if we relate his picture with those flowers that comes before his (pic. 4 and 5 shown above).

Only in those pictures we can clearly the raindrops. It could also be seen as tears and not rain, tbh. The reason for that is because when they appear (and vanish) they are frozen in the air. Those raindrops/teardrops came from nowhere and went to nowhere, but shortly after we can see the rainbow pearls diving into a lake. And the only things we see coming and going from whoever-knows-where aside those waterdrops are those pearls, and now we know that rainbow pearls are made from tears (Zero’s tears).

It seems weird to be thoser waterdrops in Sesshomaru’s scene and those flowers’ scene, because it looks to be too random. But look close at the color of those flowers. It matches Kagura’s color palette.

The red color of the first flower is lighter than Kagura’s kimono in the Angelus’ opening (the background ones are quite closer to her kimono), but look at the color of Kagura’s fan in the third opening (Owarinai Yume) of InuYasha:

The hue is quite closer to the flower in evidence. So, what I mean is that the scene of those flowers represents Kagura, and Sunrise choosed to portray her this way due to the fact she wasn’t introduced to HnY (yet).

I don’t know the name of that flower or its meaning, so if someone knows, feel free to share with us!

I actually don’t know if I make sense at all with this crazy theory! I am really tired and in so much need of sleep that I can’t even give my personal remarks right now, so please, share your thoughts with me! Or don’t, you are free to do as you like! LOL

Edit: Oh! Please, look at the scene with Towa and Setsuna, it is actually what Kagura would’ve seen in the Angelus’ scene if we got to see it in her point of view, what means that Sunrise are redoing the same scene with different characters.

P.S.: Sorry for my typos!

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writingmyanxietyaway · 4 years

Text

Beautiful, Beloved | Berlin

Requested by anon: Hello!!! How are you? I hope good!! May I ask for 10 18 and 23 from the prompt list with a Berlin x f reader? I just need me some angst with a fluffy ending hehe, it's completely fine if not tho!!! Keep up with the amazing work!!

Word count: 1.8k

Warning: angst

Note: not my gif! Didn’t proof read so sorry for any typo’s!

I chose not to do prompt 18, because I’ve already done that one for Berlin. Hope that’s okay! Enjoy x

#10 - ‘You know we’re supposed to be together. I knew the first time I saw you and you know it too. I know you do.’

#23 - ‘Why choose me?’

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

It was one of those nights again. You and Berlin were fighting, because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He didn’t cheat though, but it was the hundreth time that he had women practically throwing themselves at him. You couldn’t blame the women though, he was a handsome man and you basically did the same when you first saw him. But the problem was that he didn’t even try to push them away or tell them he was in a relationship.

‘My God, you were basically fucking them with your eyes, Andrès! How do you expect me not to get mad at that?!’ you yelled. You tried to walk away from him, but he followed you everywhere.

‘Oh come on, I did the same to you!’ he laughed, pointing at you.

‘Because you were single! You can’t behave the same you did when you were single, because you’re not single anymore!’ you groaned, while throwing your hands up. You took a deep breath and lowered your voice. ‘If you so desperately want to be single again, that’s fine, but just tell me. It’s the least I deserve.’

Once the words left your lips, you saw his expression change from smug to shock. You breath hitched and a sudden burning in your eyes ruined your tough façade. Berlin’s heart stung while he looked at your broken state. It was just now that he noticed how tired you looked. Big, dark circles marked your eyes, the light had left it’s orbs and your cheeks were hollow. You had definitely lost a few pounds and your body was trembling.

‘I-’ he stuttered. He tried to explain to you how you were his world and there was no way he would let any woman destroy the strong bond you had, but he couldn’t. He was stuck in his own words and he was terrified he would lose you because of it.

‘I love you with all my heart, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. It leaves more damage than it does good. It’s okay if you fell out of love or if your preferences have changed, but just tell me. Please,’ you pleaded, the volume of your voice lowering with every word you spoke. Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you tried to work this out, but he just stood there. No emotion on his face, no moving towards you, no words. You sadly nodded and lowered your head.

‘It’s okay. I’ll go,’ you whispered. ‘Just know that nothing has changed for me. I still love you the same as I did before. If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.’

You turned around and tightly squeezed your eyes shut, hoping with all your heart he would come running after you and hold you close ‘till the sun came up. But he didn’t. You wandered around the mansion you two lived in until you arrived in the garden. On the right there was a little cottage. It was your favourite part of the whole house. It had a big bedroom, a little living area, a kitchen and a bathroom with a bubble bath and sauna.

You smiled at the faint memories you’d shared with Andrès here. Dining with lit candles around you, sitting in the sauna, making love in the bubble bath and cuddling in bed. It was your safe haven. You went here to clear your head or just to be alone and work on your book.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you, shut the blinds and ran yourself a hot bath. You knew you didn’t have to pack your bags, because something inside you said that he would come around. You sunk in the bathtub and turned on the bubbles. You closed your eys and bubbles away until the water turned cold. After you dried yourself off and put on your pyjama’s, you dove in the bed and dozed off into sleep.

The next morning you were awoken by a knock on the door. You groaned and burried yourself deeper in the mattress. The knocking continued and you heard the voice of Greta, one of the maids in the mansion.

‘Darling? Breakfast is ready,’ she softly called through the door. You sighed and carefully opened your eyes. You loved Greta. She was an elderly woman, one you’d see in the movies, with snow white hair, dark red lips and big glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. You loved her to death. She was like a grandmother to you and whenever you had a question or needed advice, she had the answer.

You got off the bed, put on your robe and glasses and went to the door. You unlocked it and was met by the elderly woman smiling sadly at you. She knew you would only come to the cottage when you weren’t feeling great, so she knew exactly what had happened.

‘Again?’ she asked and all you could do was nod your head. You felt ashamed and stupid. This had happened so many times already, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you still tried your hardest with him.

‘Thank you, Greta. I can’t remember I requested breakfast, though,’ you frowned, taking the tray from her that displayed all your favourite foods.

‘Andrès requested it. He knew you would be here,’ she said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. It took everything in you not to start crying again. ‘He also wanted me to give you this. Stayed up all night writing it for you. He didn’t sleep.’ She handed you an envelope with the words ‘My dearest’ written on top of it.

You sighed, ‘What do I do, Greta?’ She smiled softly at you and you could see the little twinkle in her eyes.

‘You know what to do, darling. If you need anything, just call and I’ll be here,’ she said, kissing you on the cheek and turning around to leave. You watched as she disappeared inside and you closed the door. You set down the tray on the bed and hesitated to open the letter. Was is really worth going through this again? You opened the letter and read it.

To my dearest Y/N,

Words cannot explain how sorry I am. I hurt you in a way I never wanted to hurt you and I can never forgive myself for that. I betrayed your trust multiple times and I want you to know that I am incredibly sorry for doing that. All this time I thought I needed to earn my validation from others, when all I truly needed was yours. I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and by doing that I hurt you. I see now that you have always accepted me for the way I am - my good and bad side. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You keep me sane and stay with me in my darkest hours. You never complain about how I wake you up in the middle of the nigh or how I always leave my underwear spread around the room. I’m sorry for not seeing how incredible you are. I’m sorry for not appreciating you enough. I’m sorry I’m not the man you deserve. I hope you can forgive me and give me one last chance to prove to you how much you mean to me.

I love you with all my heart.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Never had Belin been so vulnerable and open to you. It showed you he really was trying his hardest this time. Times before he just got you a bunch of roses and that was his apology, but this time it was really different. He was sincere.

You munched your breakfast and changed into the summer dress you wore yesterday. You made the bed, brushed your teeth and left the cottage, taking the tray of now all-eaten food with you. When you were just about to enter the house again, you saw him sitting on the terrace, a glass of red wine sitting next to him while he held his head in his hands. You placed the tray down gently and approached him. He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down beside him.

‘Why choose me?’ you asked him softly, not trying to scare him. He tensed up when he heard your voice and slowly lifted his head. He didn’t look at you, he just stared into the distance. His eyes were puffy and you could tell he hadn’t slept.

‘Sometimes.. there isn’t really a reason. There’s just this feeling burning inside of you when you catch someone’s eye or hold their hand. It..’ he sighed, trying to come up with words that would make sence. He usually knew exactly what to say and how to say it, but now he just blocked. ‘It feels so right. The moment I saw you for the first time, you looked so stunning. Not because you wore a fancy dress or had your hair done nicely, but because you were you. You never once changed yourself. You were just this twenty year old that lived her life exactly the way she wanted to live it without any regrets and living like there was no tomorrow. I instantly fell in love. My mouth dried up and my heart beat out of my chest.

‘When I went to talk to you, you saw right through me. You knew exactly what kind of man I was, but you made it your mission to break through those walls and find the real me. You did one hell of a job for that one, princess. You showed me that I’m not just this ladies man with a constant need for attention and drive for sex and money,’ he chuckled. He turned around and looked at you. He bit the inside of his cheek - something he did when he was nervous.

‘I don’t mind the sex part, though,’ you whispered, making him chuckle and you giggle.

‘What I’m actually trying to say is that I’m sorry for everthing I’ve done that hurt you. I was a dick and didn’t realize how much you mean to me. You know we’re supposed to be together. I knew the first time I saw you and you know it too. I know you do.’

You let his words sink in. You could feel his heavy heartbeat next to you so you placed your hand over his, on his knee.

‘I forgive you. Just please promise me you’ll try to talk to me more. I feel like I hardly know you anymore. I’ll be here for the rest of your life if you want me to, but don’t push me away,’ you pleaded. He could see your eyes filling with tears again, so he quickly wrapped his arms around you.

‘I promise, princess. I will never let you go again.’

.. .. .. .. ..

Berlin Taglist

@nkjktk - @michaellangdonenthusiast - @hamiltonsofcrap

#la casa de papel #lcdp imagine #berlin x reader #berlin imagine #pedro alonso #lcdp x reader #lcdp #prompt 10 #prompt 23

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linearao3 · 3 years

Text

I wanted to have my last chapter ready for today, which is the day of Queer Reylo Week focused on bi/pan interpretations of the characters. I couldn't finish the whole thing, but I'm excerpting (un-beta'd, so please forgive typos) a part where Ben and Rey talk about his feelings for Tai, and about what you want the people you love to know about you. Behind the cut, mostly for length.

...

Rey sees Tai in Ben’s dreams, and she wakes up feeling… bad. There’s no more precise name to attach to the feeling; it’s a bundle of a lot of feelings, and trying to pick them apart and examine them seems like it will also make her feel bad, and when you feel bad you insult your foster parents and snarl at your boss and things just get worse from there, so instead she just leaves the vague label, bad feelings, and pushes it down to the place where all the bad feelings go and then avoids that place.

The guy is dead. What is there to feel about it but bad?

It’s Ben who brings him up. It doesn’t feel like he does it on purpose; he’s arguing with his mother about some point of scholarship, and he says, “Tai said it was a reference to Pindar, and just aesthetic, that that was the fashion in prophecy in those days.”

“I thought your friend’s specialty was demonic taxonomy,” Leah says.

“He took his degree in Classics,” Ben says. “With a focus on historiography.”

The argument goes on, to places Rey does not understand or care about. But what sticks in Rey’s head is what stuck there before: Leah said friend.

Later, in the almost-quiet of a 4AM subway, she asks him. “Does your mom not know? About you and Tai?”

He looks out the window, like the sparking mosaics of the Lincoln Center station are suddenly interesting. “What?”

“That you were together. Are you not — out to her?”

“We weren’t together.” The train enters the tunnel, and the window goes dark. She can see her own reflection, but not his.

“Is that not allowed, for Watchers? To get with other Watchers?”

“It’s allowed. My mom’s parents were both Watchers. We just… weren’t.”

“Why not?” Why does Rey keep pushing? It’s the bad feelings, squirming their way up from where she put them and wriggling free.

“He didn’t — it wasn’t like that for him.”

Rey remembers Poe, showing her the picture of Ben. This is his only picture from his trip to NYC, and he turned his back on the Statue of Liberty to take it. “Like what?” He turns his head further, so all she can is his hair. She looks down at her shoes; she’s grinding one foot into the filthy floor like she’s trying to put out a cigarette. “Did you love him?”

Ben’s quiet for a very long time. They pull into 59th St, and then out again. He slumps, his shoulders hunched like a teenager’s. “Yeah,” he finally says, hoarsely. “Yeah. I did. But he — he didn’t want it to be like that. We were just friends. And we had sex sometimes.”

Like with me. Like how you think it is with me. Except I love you. And I bet Tai did too. And that’s one of the bad feelings, she realizes, miserably. She’s jealous.

But she’s not just jealous. “But — you couldn’t tell your mom?”

She doesn’t want that. She has a secret mental record of every bit of positive feedback Leah’s ever given her, and when she’s had a good night hunting, she plays them on a triumphant loop, hoping to add one more you’ve done well to her collection. She still feels a shameful little thrill when Leah talks to the council or to Ben and says my Slayer, like Rey is hers and she’s proud of it. So that’s another bad feeling. That she doesn’t want Leah to be someone Ben couldn’t tell.

He shrugs, a jerky, unhappy shrug. She’s seen him younger, in his dreams, and he’s moving like he’s back in that gawky body, like he’s the wrong size for his own mind. “What’s to tell?”

Rey swallows. “That you’re… bi. Queer.”

He stares out at the 50th St station, as the train leaves it behind, the walls tiled with the silhouettes of Alice and the White Rabbit. “I didn’t — I don’t — I guess. I guess I thought. I was in love with Tai. But Tai didn’t want it — he didn’t want it to be love. What I felt. So I pretended it wasn’t. And if I wasn’t in love with Tai, then what did I have to tell?”

She reaches out for his hand, and stops herself. “Could you tell her now?”

“Why?”

Rey swallows. The next stop is their transfer, but she doesn’t want to get up, and break the seal on this by taking it out and up and down the stairs at Times Square. “Because I think she might want to know. About who you are.”

He doesn’t say anything, and the brakes hiss, and the doors rattle open, and the announcer mumbles, 42nd St-Times Square. Transfer to the 2/3 and the N/Q/R trains. Transfer to the A/C/E via the passage to Port Authority. Transfer to the shuttle to Grand Central. Rey doesn’t get up. Neither does Ben. Stand clear of the doors, the announcer says, sounding exhausted, and the closing chime sounds. Neither of them move. The doors close. The train moves again.

She can barely hear him over the rattle of the tracks. “Is that? Who I am?”

“I mean.” Rey looks down again. His hand is plucking at the seam of his jeans. “It’s who I am,” she says. “And I think. I’d want. I’d want my mom to know.”

Oh great. More bad feelings.

He goes completely still. “Rey.”

“I mean. If my mom were like I thought she was. Or hoped she was. Or whatever. I don’t know how she actually was. But maybe I’d want her to know anyway. Just because she should. Like she should know how you died. She should know who you are.” She looks back up. He’s looking at her. His eyes are brimming. She loves how easily he cries, how exposed his heart is. She loves him. “And she should know what you lost. When you lost Tai.”

And that’s the worst feeling of all, isn’t it? Knowing what Ben has lost. It feels so awful, to remember that her parents are dead; it’s like being suffocated. Like there’s a hole in her chest, and everything is falling out of her until there’s nothing left. And when she thinks about Tai, she knows Ben must feel like that, too.

The tears spill out of his eyes. And she shouldn’t do it. It gives too much away. But she can’t help it. She wipes his tears the way he’s wiped hers, with her fingers. “She should know,” she says again, and he catches her by the wrist.

“You too,” he says, and she knows what he means, even before he says, “you said it was who you are too. Will you — will you come — do you want to tell her too?”

He must be able to feel her pulse speeding, in her wrist. But it could mean anything, couldn’t it? And he makes her pulse speed up all the time. Because they have sex. But they’re not in love. Because he hurts, all the time, for her sake, and she has to keep him safe.

“Of course,” she says. “We’ll both go. We’ll both tell her.”

He nods. He’s back in his own body again, not a gawky teen but a tall, dangerous man who knows his own body. Who knows himself. He nods again, more firmly, and lets her wrist go. “We can transfer to the F at 14th St,” he says, looking out the window. “That’ll get you close to home. Do you want to tell her tomorrow night?”

“If you want to,” Rey says. “If you’re ready.”

“Give me a date and a time,” Ben says. “I’ll make myself ready.” And his hand goes to his chest, like it always does when he’s tired.

#Queer Reylo Week #In All the World #reylo fanfic #reylo

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be-bi-do-crime · 3 years

Note

Sooo i saw you review someones carulia fic befpre so uh heres mine, if i could have some pointers?🥺For context; its supposed to be an angst to fluff comcerning how Carmen & Jules make up following the ACME interruption..

Carmen POV:

The rain relented for no one, not even for those who were in mourning. It was a single drop and a million all at once, thundering down in sheets ftom a confident stormy sky. Carmen Sandiego shivered, the tiny droplets assaulting every shred of skin she had dared to leave exposed.

Her red-brunette hair was drenched a shade darker, now existing as a thick, sopping mass glued to the back of her feverish neck. Carmen’s cheeks were ice cold and slick with water, aside from two thin trails of tears with fading heat.

That was one plus side of being out in the storm, she supposed. It was easy to cry in the rain.

In Carmen’s hands were an arrangement of Peonies and Hydrangeas, the water hammering at their petals. They had been Shadowsan’s suggestion and she took it, because, how the hell would she know what kind of flowers Dexter Wolfe preferred?

The makeshift grave had been Shadowsan’s idea, too. Apparently it would give her closure. Carmen admitted it did, to some extent, help to have some way to mourn her late father. But the fact that she knew his body wasn’t anywhere near his headstone dulled any respite it might have provided.

They had chosen a grave in Poiters, France. It was the only place the team frequented aside from San Diego, and it held the only funeral home that agreed to not ask questions about birth and death records.

Team red hadn’t visited the place in months what with her falling out with Julia and ACME, until today. It was the anniversary of his death, after all.

Carmen’s hands quivered as she lowered the flowers to the wet earth. Tension pulsed in her veins with a thousand emotions flooding through her. She was so, so angry! At the world, at Shadowsan, at Chief, at everyone for taking away what could’ve been a beautiful life with family she now knew nothing of.

She wanted to hurt someone, to scream. And so she did. A guttural roar escaped Carmen’s rouged lips, disappearing into the night. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her erratic breathing. When she looked down, she realized she had crushed the flowers.

Not caring anymore, Carmen plopped down against the headstone, the mud squelching beneath her. Tears began to flow beyond her control and she let them, for once allowing herself to truly feel all the hurt she kept pent up inside in favor of her suave exterior.

Her fingers dug into the earth, and she flung a fistful of mud into the rain. Carmen was tired of running from everything, tired of chasing her past, tired of hiding from the people she cared about.

Maybe the earth’ll open up and swallow me, she mused. Or better yet, maybe I’ll get struck by lightning.

Carmen sighed, moving her back to rest against her father’s grave. “Oh, dad.” She whispered softly. “I’m so sorry.”

The lady in red began to relax despite the rain, curling up in a fetal position and feeling sorry for herself. It wasn’t like Zack, Ivy, Player, and Shadowsan were here to see her so vulnerable, after all.

The sound of two feet approaching caught her attention, their light tread a very familiar sound.

No. It couldn’t be-

The lady in red looked up, her hair strewn haphazardly and her eyes red from crying all while every inch of her body was drenched.

“Miss Sandiego?” There stood Julia Argent with a sky blue umbrella, a mix of horror and concern painted over her delicate features.

“How many times have I told you Carmen is fine?” Carmen whispered as usual, only this time the flirty playfulness was amiss. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, not a sliver of emotion present as she stared dead ahead, right through Julia.

“I’m.....sorry.” The petite woman replied, stressing the underlying meaning.

“What are you doing here, Agent Argent?” Carmen asked tiredly, refusing to call her Jules any longer.

Julia flinched, as if the missing nickname was like a blow to the gut. “Please, you don’t have to be so formal. But, um, I live here, remember? So I think I I should be ask you that.”

“I was just passing through.” The lady in red stood, refusing to meet the other woman’s eyss.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.” Carmen said coldly. She couldn’t believe she had ever been stupid enough to begin to trust Julia, much less begin to fall for her. “It’s a long walk to the train station.”

For once, she thought she had someone who believed in her, someone who was on her side wholeheartedly.....and yet...

Stockholm.

“Carmen, you won’t be able to find your way in this weather.” Julia said tentatively, pity filling her beautiful doe eyes to the brim. “Please, um, my apartment isn’t far from here. You can stay until the rain calms down.”

A dark, humorless laugh escaped the Latina’s lips. “What, do all you ACME agents bunk in the same place or something?”

“Excuse me?“

“So they’re waiting for me then,” Carmen continued, her anger and feelings of betrayal peeking into a tirade. “I bet they all have they’re guns propped up at the door already in place. I think I’ll pass, Jules.“

Carmen spit her nickname out like some vile insult she was hurtling at an enemy.

Julia sucked in a sharp breath, sadness touching her features. “Carmen,“ The petite woman began, pleading “I know you won’t forgive me for what happened in Stockholm, but I promise you I didn’t know.“ She paused, waiting for some form of acknowledgement, no response. “I-I told Chief to back off and let me talk to you, she-she said it was okay! I had no idea they were moving in. Please, please Believe me.”

“Oh yeah?“ The woman in red whispered, her voice barely audible over the downpour. “And what if I don’t?“

...

And thats all i have sooo far---

AIJSIDKDKJDKFJDJJSJDFJ OKAY THIS IS LATE BC I WAS NOT IN THE EMOTIONAL HEADSPACE TO DECONSTRUCT THIS BUT. ANON HOW DARE YOU? I AM IN IMMEASURABLE PAIN

i’ll just add notes as i go, thank you for allowing me to read this and offer pointers :D

your descriptions are so good omg!! i love the first sentence SO much?? “the rain relented for no one, not even for those who were in mourning” PHEWWW that’s poetry

i’d say the only thing about the following descriptions is that you don’t have to describe everything, if that makes sense? like, you can leave it as just “a stormy sky” for example. descriptions are amazing, but too much of anything can be harder to read and get your point across!

“it was easy to cry in the rain” anon WHO let you hurt me like this!!!

i feel like if i look up those flowers i will cry so i’m not going to but. shadowsan knowing what flowers to bring is just.... help i’m in pain

NOT THE GRAVE BEING IN POITIERS GOD GIVE ME STRENGTH

instead of “so, so, angry” you can say furious, and replace the exclamation mark with a period. it makes it more solid (if that’s the right word...?)

it’s probably a tumblr formatting thing but italicize the words when it’s her inner thoughts for better distinction!

CARMEN RECOGNIZING JULIA’S FOOTSTEPS

“a mix of horror and concern painted over her delicate features” i’m in LOVE with this wording??

REFUSING TO CALL HER JULES ANY LONGER@,#)&()&)&&)&:&:; LORDDDD

NOT THE. NOT FUCKING STOCKHOLM ANON?? me: brings it up 24/7 and then me when anyone else brings it up: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS

THE ANGST IS KILLING ME

side note, don’t refer to characters by their race/ethnicity, go with the thief, lady in red, the other girl etc

probably a typo but **their instead of they’re!

“AND WHAT IF I DON’T?” I AM INCONSOLABLE ANON I AM SO SCARED TO READ THE FULL THING WHEN YOU’RE DONE BUT I ALSO CAN’T WAIT AHHHHH THIS ANGST IS SOOO GOOD

thanks again for the submission 🥺💕 i hope my notes were okay!! this was such an emotional journey to read and now i’m going to be fueled by stockholm angst all day when writing <3

#asking carmen #gun mention #death mention

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youeverfeelcursed · 4 years

Text

On The Narrative of The Last of Us 2 (1 of 2?)

I am impressed by how many people are hating on this game and its narrative when I’m finding it how amazing its written even though it broke my heart in so many pieces I’m not sure I’ll be able to stick them together for a while. Reading most of the arguments against the game it feels like people are simplyfying the story of both game to worrisome levels.

This is going to be a long text, and obviously, it’s going to be FULL of spoilers so: SPOILERS AHEAD.

Let’s start by going back a bit and into the Last of Us.

Naughty Dog and the importance of being human: The Redemption of Joel

I think before we start we need to talk about the most important detail of The Last of Us franchise - onwards TLoU - and that is that its never been about zombies, or survival, or Joel or Ellie but about humanity, or better yet, about what is being human and what makes us human. It doesn’t matter if its Part 1 or Part 2 but keep in mind that this concept is the driving force of this story, subtly hiding in our protagonists and their friends stories. You wont find easy blacks or whites in their storytelling, because being human is not that simple.

Now that we have that clear, keep in your mind too the word monster.

With TLoU - Part 1, we get in the skin of Joel Miller, an assholish smuggler based in Boston. From the beginning we can see that Joel is not a good person and through the whole game is heavily implied that he’s been less that nice to humans to survive. The player can “easily” forgive these flaws of him because we can empathize with the lost of his daughter during The Outbreak but even if we empathize we can’t just ignore that Joel is not a hero, he’s just a broken survivor.

Many people think that TLoU is all about the connection of Joel and Ellie, but in the end it’s all about Joel and his “redemption”, his coming back up from being a murderer, a smuggler, a shitty person to a human with feelings again, with so many feelings he makes the worst decision for the survival of humanity: he saves Ellie. He saves Ellie because he cares, because he learnt to care so much that he put his own selfishness above humanity’s well being. He’s battled thousand of zombies along the way but we know they are mostly not aware of their actions anymore, they can’t choose to hurt people, they just do it because it’s what they do but Joel made a conscious decision. A horrible decision.

And after, he lies to Ellie. He takes the chance of deciding about her own life only because he desires to keep her alive. And this is what it is about, how beautiful can it be to be human, and how horrible can it turn into.

TLoU Part 2, the death of Joel and the descent of Ellie.

We begin Part 2 with Joel narrating what happened in the hospital to a flabbergasted Tommy. I’m not sure how most people felt during this sequence but during it I felt shitty for actually being happy that he saved Ellie, which was alleviated by Tommy’s acceptance of it (”I can’t say I’d have done different”). I’m not sure if I were to be Tommy I would have reacted the same way, but props to him for forgiving his brother.

So times passes and we land on Ellie. This is where everything begins.

The transformation of Ellie is like a trainwreck, you know it’s going to end badly but you cannot stop looking.

When we get control of Ellie we get our old Ellie back, maybe a little less cheerful but it’s normal, she’s already 18 and she’s been hit hard by life, multiple times. Still we can see that underneath all that tough and grumpy behaviour (I mean seriously, she’s just like Joel) there’s the Ellie we loved from the first part.

Up to the point Joel is killed.

Oh how I fucking hated that moment and it’s not because it felt stupid - it truly didn’t to me - but because I was at the same time expecting it, and not expecting it. Because that’s how death gets to you and I found the setting horribly marvelous.

Many people think that his dead was stupid, that he didn’t go in a grand way but just simply got his face smashed by Abby. I hated it, because the whole scene I was like Ellie hoping for Joel to pull through and save himself, I couldn’t believe he would die in the first 3 hours of the game!! Naughty Dog what the fuck!?

But you know. That’s it. That’s the point. Things come and go and most of the time we don’t really expect what happens. And it’s traumatizing, it’s unbelievable, it’s shitty. But it’s life. One night I was saying goodnight to my dad, the next day he was dead. It happens. Death is not grand, death is not heroic most of the time, it just is.

And that’s the feeling that they manage to convey, that it’s not real. We are feeling the same feelings as Ellie, thinking that somehow, in some crazy way he’ll be back to come back. But he won’t. There’s a grave. And yet the feeling is there. If Joel’s death had been shown differently, we - as players - could find some closure, but this way? This way we are stuck. Just like Ellie.

Just like the beginning of the end of Ellie. Because the next part is all about losing yourself. We can see it in tiny details like Ellie’s hair. In Jackson, she’s got a tight bun, controlled and when she and Dina are getting to Detroit, part of that bun is loose as an analogy of her slow demise, how she slowly loses control. It’s also represented by the weather, with one of the most ruthless scenes happening during the huge storm of Detroit: Mel’s death.

It would be easy to just blame this turning into a monster on Joel’s death, but there’s multiple factors affecting Ellie during this time, apart from the trauma from watching Joel be killed in front of her own eyes.

The first one is that she was forced to miss the chance of being useful, useful as a cure for the whole world, for her life to have meaning. It must be really hard to love someone so much - Joel - and hate them at the same time, and plus to all of that, you dont get the chance to forgive them because it was ripped from your own hands.

Next is what she deems as a betrayal from Dina, her pregnancy. This is where the queer theme comes strong, because who hasn’t been in a situation in which we feel we will lose our loved one to the straight ex? The feeling of being powerless specially because Jesse is her friend. She loves him, she loves them both. But it’s obvious she doesn’t feel worthy of Dina, and when the pregnancy comes, it just pulls at her strings. She starts to go alone on missions, reckless crazy missions distancing herself from both of them to the point she crashes hard and makes Nora talk.

Ellie much to our liking and hate, grew up under the care of Joel, a sweet and wonderful man with his own troubles but a great problem of sharing his feelings, something I feel was passed to Ellie. She doesn’t speak of her feelings, she keeps them inside until they break her apart, so this descent wasn’t caused by just one simple happening, it was a collective of shitty feelings. And we could argue, “but its obvious Dina likes her!”. Well yeah, it’s obvious to us, but for someone that lost so much so fast, how obvious can it be?

Finding Abby is not just about revenge, is about having control over her life. That’s something she can do, she can find Abby kill her and get revenge for Joel. It keeps her grounded while slowly plummeling her into turning a monster. Because sometimes we hold onto the most stupid things just for the sake of being grounded, even if that thing destroys what’s left of us.

I know many people were angry at how a LGTB+ was treated but I personally don’t think this demise would be as hardcore if it had been a straight white girl. If this representation is good or bad its up to everyone’s opinion but I personally think Naughty Dog did a good job in here. I know people are tired of traumatic stories, but there’s a lot to chew in this game to just reduce it to “sad gay story”. For the instance, Ellie is consciously destroying her own life, personally I think because she felt she should be dead plus everything mentioned beforehand. When she leaves Jesse behind to go get Abby instead of saving Tommy that’s the point of no return.

Well, there’s more to unravel but I feel this post is long enough already and we still have Dina, Tommy, Jesse and Abby to talk about. So I’ll take a breather and keep writing later. Sorry for typos and keep safe.

#the last of us 2 #the last of us 2 analysis #the last of us 2 spoilers #spoilers #the last of us 2 representation #tlou 2 #tlou part 2 #tlou II #ellie #dina #joel miller

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skeptycats · 4 years

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Vicky Archives #4

CODE OF THE CLANS - A little light humour

Vicky Holmes, the former editor of the Warriors series, has been doing short extract readings on Facebook since the start of the UK lockdown back in March. There’s some really cool anecdotes hidden within some of these videos, so I decided to begin penning them down for posterity and easy reference.

I won’t be transcribing filler, hedging and false starts but I’m including some amount of preamble just to be comprehensive.

A little short one this week! My health is a little poor at the moment so it’s a couple days late anyway, but I hope you enjoy!

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Hello! It is Tuesday, March the 31st, last day of March, and I’m in a bit of a down mood today, I’m sure a lot of us are. The realities of lockdown are setting in, I’m bored, I want to go shopping - and I never want to go shopping! I’d just like a change of scene.

I decided today to go for some light relief. I’m going to do a reading from Code of the Clans, which was I think the first book I wrote completely on my own, so I storylined it, brainstormed it, and actually did all the writing on my own. It’s a lot harder without Kate or Cherith to help because obviously I was responsible for all of the words, but I was also able to play with the Erin Hunter voice myself. It was lovely, and I really enjoyed it.

Code of the Clans is something which we call non-fiction. Obviously it’s still fiction, but it was delving into the world behind Warriors. The structure, the heritage, the religion. It was just a pure exercise in fantasy, it was a delight.

I’m going to read a short section from Code #11, which is ‘boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats.’ I’m going to read a short scene in which Whitestorm teaches border tactics to some familiar faces when they were apprentices. I can remember when I wrote it I was smiling, and giggling to myself. I’m probably going to do the same now, so forgive me for effectively laughing at my own jokes. We all need a bit of humour today.

Is every cat here? Firepaw, Graypaw, Ravenpaw, Sandpaw, and Dustpaw? Dustpaw, stop trying to push Firepaw into the brambles. I’m not blind; I can see what you’re doing. Firepaw, go to the other end of the line. Sandpaw, he does not have fleas! Stand still, all of you.

As Lionheart told you, we’re going to practice border defense today. You can be the patrol, and I’ll be a deputy from another Clan who’s crossed the boundary. Who’d like to lead the patrol? Don’t look so terrified, Ravenpaw. I won’t make you be the leader if you don’t want to be. Graypaw, why don’t you have first turn? If you could just pick up that stick in your mouth and use it to draw a line across the sand, we’ll call that the border. Sandpaw, it doesn’t matter that the line is wobbly. Boundaries aren’t whisker-straight, code are they? So, you’re on that side, walking along on a dawn patrol. Off you go, patrol!

Did you really need to yawn like that, Graypaw? Oh, I see, it’s because it’s the dawn patrol, and you’re tired. Well, let’s pretend you all had a really good night’s sleep and are full of energy. Now, what should you be doing? Yes, sniffing, tasting the air—what for? That’s right, Sandpaw. ThunderClan border marks. And what else? Yes, Firepaw. The border marks of the other Clan. But only where the two borders meet. Beside the river and the Thunderpath, it would be bad news to find any scents of RiverClan or ShadowClan, because it would mean they’d crossed over from their side. So keep sniffing.

Maybe not that much, Sandpaw. Have a good sneeze and you should get the sand out of your nose. So, border marks, border marks. Can you smell both sets? Good. But what’s this? A cat from another Clan has ignored the marks and stepped over your border?

No, Ravenpaw, I didn’t mean we were actually being invaded. The cat from the other Clan is me. See how I just stepped over the line in the sand? What are you going to do about it? Wha . . .whoa! Stop treading on my ears!

Well, yes, Dustpaw, launching an attack and knocking me back across the border is one option. But is it wise to take on a cat twice your size? Or a trained warrior with more experience than you? The purpose of a patrol is to assess the situation and report back to your Clan leader. You won’t be able to do that if your pelt is clawed to shreds at the farthest part of the territory from the camp. Any other ideas?

How about asking what I’m doing? I might have a valid reason for crossing the border, especially if I’m alone. That’s right, Graystripe: [TN: Vicky points out the name error here] What do you want? is a good way to start. Don’t be too hostile: Remember, you are in the stronger position, because this is your territory and you have the right to defend it. Unless I have a very good explanation for crossing your border, I don’t have any rights at all. What do you think my reply might be?

Yes, Ravenpaw, I might need your help. My Clan might have been invaded, we might have serious trouble with prey, or we might have sickness that needs your herbs. All these reasons would mean that I am weak, so you can allow me into your territory but never out of sight.

If I am hostile, then meet me with hostility—which isn’t the same as aggression, Dustpaw. You’ve started with a strong challenge—What do you want?—and now you need to give me some sort of warning. Ravenpaw, what would you say?

Hmmm. If you’re going to threaten to claw a cat’s ears, you should try not to look so terrified at the prospect. Firepaw, would you like to try? Ah, yes, I like that you indicated the rest of your patrol. It’s always good to let the enemy know they’re outnumbered. Sandpaw, put that fire ant down. No, I don’t care that Firepaw might not know what it is. Now is not the right time to show him—and he certainly doesn’t need to get bitten by one.

So, you’ve challenged the trespasser, warned me that there’s a whole patrol here that can take me to your Clan leader if that’s what I wish; what next? That’s right, Graypaw, let me—the intruder—speak. If I can’t give you a convincing explanation for what I’m doing on your territory, if I don’t ask to be taken to Bluestar at once, then chase me off with no more questions. Don’t provoke a full-scale war—chasing means chasing, not catching and clawing. Just make it clear that you will defend your boundaries from any kind of invasion, even one paw across the border. A good warrior is always ready to fight, but only if it’s absolutely necessary: A good warrior will seek a peaceful, claws-sheathed solution first.

You will all make good warriors one day. Don’t look so doubtful, Ravenpaw. You need to find only a little more courage to be as good as your denmates. Your hunting skills are excellent— Dustpaw, you’d do well to watch him. Who knows? You might even lead this Clan one day!

Now, back to camp, all of you, and leave this old warrior to enjoy the sun in peace.

BEHIND THE SCENES

That was fun. Always cheers me up to revisit some of the humour, and there was a lot of humour in Warriors. Both Kate and Cherith excelled at introducing some comedy, especially around kits interacting with the older cats.

That’s something I was very aware of when I was writing the ‘non-fiction’ books like Code of the Clans and Battles of the Clans. It’s very easy to think of Warriors as super intense and super involved and traumatic and emotional, but you can’t sustain that. It’s exhausting to write and it’s exhausting to read, just as it’s exhausting to live. I think at the moment there’s a danger that we’re all sort of living on a bit of a knife’s edge, living on our nerves, and I’m certainly starting to feel that. It’s okay to take a break, with your writing and with your general day-to-day life. Laughter is the best medicine, literally. Writing about kits just gives me the giggles every time. And yes, it feels self-indulgent to laugh at my own jokes, but hey, I’m on my own, I have to make my own jokes.

It was very interesting there because of course I spotted a typo - one of my famous errors! - that Graypaw had been referred to as Graystripe. Obviously I wrote Code of the Clans when we were probably on series two at least, if not three, so I was thinking of these cats as their warriors names, and obviously forgot I was supposed to be calling Graypaw ‘Graypaw’ there. I have obviously made lots of mistakes over the years. I think my favourites are the fact that Heavystep died and comes back to life several times, and Rowanclaw started off as a she-cat and then pops up as a tom. So we could perhaps claim the first transitioned fictional cat? But it was an honest mistake.

One of my fondest memories from going on tour is when I would turn up in a bookshop and some very earnest little child would turn up with a book full of post-it notes, and they’d solemnly say that they’d pointed out all the typos and errors in the book and marked them with post-its, and would I like to take the book away so I could do the corrections. No, is the short answer. I’m sorry for the mistakes, but it’s not up to me to correct them. That’s the publishing, that’s further down the line. We have corrected errors in some books, but it has to be big mistakes, you have to go in and change the printing plate. All I can humbly say is ‘I’m sorry’. I’ve written a lot of words, they’re not always going to be the right ones.

#vicky archives #warrior cats #warriors #whitestorm #code of the clans #not designs

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t-lostinworlds · 5 years

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Reminisce (Grayson Dolan) [1]

- Requested -

A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while since I posted a fic and well, I don't really have a good excuse besides the fact that I have been stuck lately and been kind of uninspired to write so yeah. Also I want to apologize to the anon who requested this for taking sooooo long. I'm so so soo sorry from the bottom of my heart for making you wait for almost 4 months(?) I feel so bad honestly, I hope you forgive me.

Anyway! I hope you guys enjoy this one.

P.S. I decided to split it into parts because it’s not done yet and I won’t let the anon wait any longer without posting at least something so here’s part 1!

Summary: Grayson thought he was going to lose you after a car accident that put you in a coma, but he was nowhere near prepared from what's about to happen when you finally wake up.

Warnings: Angst and Typos

Word Count: 7.2k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

Part 1

“Goddamn it Grayson! Will you fucking listen to me?!” You yelled, hands flailing everywhere, getting so worked up at how he’s acting so childish right now. Its normal for a couple to fight, some might say it makes the relationship stronger, but when it keeps happening too often, you just know that, that isn’t a good sign.

“No! You fucking listen to me (Y/N)!” Grayson growled, face red and fuming, jealousy raging inside his veins as he once again found you with an old friend of yours, or should he say, ex-boyfriend.

“You can’t just flirt with your ex-boyfriend when we're on a date (Y/N)! Right in front of my fucking face!” He added taking a step forward, but you stood there unfazed, his words actually angering you even more.

“Really? Flirting?” You shook your head at him. “Yes because that’s what I fucking saw!” His voice boomed, throwing both hands in the air, both of you just feeding each other’s anger dangerously.

“You’re so fucking unbelievable! How many times do I have to tell your brain that we were only talking?!” You screamed, ready to rip you hair off at how hard he’s being. Grayson has always been the jealous type, there were times when it was cute but there were also times when it’s become too much.

You tried your best to understand him, to ease him out of his insecurities, to show him that you aren’t like the girls he’s dated in the past, that you’ll take great care of his heart but it hasn’t always been easy, loving a scarred and broken man is never easy.

“I’m not fucking blind (Y/N)! He was definitely flirting with you, and being the naïve girl that you are of course you didn’t notice! Or maybe you did notice and just flirted back just like every single time a guy talks to you.” He hissed, venom laced in his voice, all of his emotions slowly clouding his judgment.

You stared at him dumbfounded, blinking a couple times, not knowing if the words really did come out of his mouth. “Is that really what you think of me now? After two years of being together, you still think I’d actually flirt with other guys?” Your voice wavered, feeling so hurt that he’s actually doubting your loyalty.

He looked away and you felt your heart break right then and there. “What if I do?” He mumbled. “What? You think I’m some bitch now who just flirts with other guys in front of you? Are you implying that I actually am capable of cheating on you Gray?” You voiced out, scared of what he’s going to say because when Grayson is angry, he let’s go of words that just kills you bit by bit.

“Not my fault if that’s what you’re showing me.” You looked at the man in front of you in utter shock, your breath getting caught inside your throat. “Are you hearing yourself right now Grayson?” You whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

Never have you thought the day would come that Grayson would actually question your love for him. In every fight you have had in the past, he’s always been trying to push you away, building up his walls over and over again after every time you tried so hard to break them down and kick the bricks away. But as soon as you come so close to succeeding, he just shuts you out again, finding other ways to build his walls back up.

“Yes (Y/N), I can hear myself clearly.” He rolled his eyes, still refusing to meet your gaze, his anger still boiling in the very pit of his being. “You’re just like them. You’re just waiting for the right opportunity to leave me once you’ve found someone better or if one of your exes finally comes crawling back.” He crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching at the thought.

“I’m just like them.” You echoed, your tears now flowing freely from your eyes, heart beating so fast but your body feeling numb.

“Yes (Y/N)! You are just like the people who use me to move on! Claiming that you love me but when your beloved ex comes back, you just leave me! Just like everyone else!” Grayson yelled straight at your face but once his eyes fully met yours, he knew he fucked up.

You stumbled back, your lips quivering as sobs escaped your mouth. Him being jealous is one thing, but saying that you are just using him is a whole ‘nother level. It hurts to think that after everything you’ve been through, all the nights you fought for his trust, the times you’ve given him all of you, to prove to him that you’ll always pick him, that you’ll give all your love to him and only him, he still thinks that you’re that kind of person, a low, selfish person who is just using him.

“After all the things I’ve sacrificed to make you happy, all the times I avoided everything that made you uncomfortable, even stopped talking to a few of my guy friends to ease your fear, all the love I’ve given you, I’m still just like them. After two years you still think I'm just using you. You actually think I'm that low of a person Grayson?” You stated, tear after tear slipping out faster than you could get rid of them as you are not able to control it anymore.

Grayson’s anger vanished almost immediately, face now painted with regret as he realized what he’s just said, how he has managed to let the anger control him again, but now, he’s just gone too far. “(Y/N)…” He tried to reach for you but you backed away making his heart sting at the way you looked at him.

“You always do this to me. You say something hurtful when you're angry then you apologize the next day like nothing happened, and I always forgive you each time, telling myself that you’re just broken and hurt. I always put you first Gray, always. I’ve been doing everything that I can just to make you happy, to never hurt you in any shape or form, to prove to you that I’ll always be here for you. I’ve been fighting for your trust for so long, always trying my best to be patient, to help you heal, to understand why you let these things come out your mouth, telling myself that it’s just the anger speaking but I’ve had enough, I’m tired Grayson, I’m so fucking tired!” You sobbed, eyes boring straight into his.

Everybody has a breaking point, and you’ve finally reached yours.

The look on your face was enough to snap Grayson’s heart into half, the look of betrayal and pain written all over your features, so clear as day. He’s finally done it. He’s finally broken the girl who’s always been there for him, the girl who’s always been so strong to keep up with him and his problem, his insecurities, the person who was willing to fight the demons in him, the person who was willing to stay by his side no matter how messed up he is, the only person who has never given up on him.

You were such an amazing girl when he first met you, so joyful and so kind. You have been the most beautiful person that has come into his life, both inside and out. You've always had this light radiating off of you that makes everyone around you feel so calm and happy. You were his ray of sunshine, especially when Grayson ends up in such a dark place. You were his angel who fought so hard to keep his demons at bay. But looking at you now, he's realized that after such a long time, he's finally managed to snuff the light out of you.

He has managed to drag you into his own mess, which is himself. It was like every time you help him, you were also getting drained bit by bit, like you're transferring your own light into him, but his darkness just seems to overtake it always. The once so happy and radiant (Y/N) that he knew was almost gone, and he knew it was all his fault.

“(Y/N)… I’m sorry.” Grayson tried to take another step but you shook your head at him. “Don’t even try. I’m not doing this again, I’m done going in circles. I forgive you then you do it again and it goes on and on. I can’t Gray, I can’t fight anymore. You’ve finally won because I give up.” You choked, hands fisted on your sides, your whole body trembling from all the emotions that’s consuming you, anger, pain, fear, everything.

You wanted so bad to just forgive him, to just forget about everything and move on from it, to hug him and just apologized for making him jealous, but you just can’t deal with it anymore. It’s like he’s been abusing it too much, the way you easily forgive him. It was time to put yourself first. You’ve already tried to fix him, but you can never fix a person, that's their choice and only their choice to do so. You can never heal a broken man if he doesn't want to be healed.

“No… (Y/N), p-please.” Grayson’s voice broke, heart shattering completely with those three little words, ‘I give up’.

The last thing Grayson ever wanted in life was to lose you. You are his only source of light through all those dark moments. You helped him get through his anxiety countless of times, you made him see things differently, to appreciate all the little things in the world and just how beautiful it is.

Grayson always had trust issues due to previous heartbreaks, but you stuck with him, even after all the times he’s been pushing you away. Your patience with him was incredible, you fought and fought for two years to get him to see that you truly did love him, you are the strongest girl he knows, but one person can only take so much beating.

He shouldn’t have let his emotions take over him, he shouldn’t have let his anger control him, he should have tried his best and fought the back demons but he was weak and stupid. So stupid his finally managed to push you over the edge.

“I don’t want to do this anymore Grayson, I’m done. We're done.” You whispered, taking every ounce of courage to look at him one last time before turning around to make your way towards the door, but Grayson grabbed you before you could even move, keeping you in place because he knew that once you set a foot out that door, you'll be out of his life, and he doesn’t know if he'd be ever to get you back.

“No no no, please (Y/N), please don’t leave me.” He cried, hugging you from behind, trying his best to prevent you from walking away, and hearing Grayson sob was enough to break your heart fully, after all, you do love him with every ounce of your being. “I’m so sorry, baby I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me, please (Y/N), please.” He begged, hugging you even tighter, his face buried on your shoulder blade as his whole body trembled.

You bit your lip, tears clouding your vision once again just by hearing Grayson so broken, so hurt. You wanted to just turn around and hug him, to kiss him and tell it’s going to be okay, but you resisted, pushing his arms off your body. It's time to think of yourself for once. If he's not going to try his best and change, then he has to learn it the hard way, even if that means leaving him, even if it hurts you too.

“Let me go Grayson. I’ve given you too many chances, I’m drained, I can’t do this anymore, please let me go.” You forced his arms off of you with all the strength you could muster, him mumbling 'no's over and over again, but when you managed to do so, you just ran. You knew you had to get out of the house as fast as you can as the air started to become too thick and suffocating, you just needed to breathe. Also Grayson can be so persuasive, you knew that when you face him and look inside those hazel orbs of his, you're just going to get lost in them again, and the cycle will continue.

You ran out of the house, very much aware that Grayson was right on your tail as he called out your name but you didn’t dare look back. You kept running, not paying any attention to where you we’re heading, not being able to see clearly either as the tears blurred your sight, your legs stumbling down the path that leads to who knows where, trying your best to keep your body upright.

It was already too late to notice that you've managed to run in the middle of the road.

You heard a loud beep that made you stop in your tracks, turning around seeing only a bright set of lights coming straight your way, so fast that you didn't have any amount of time to react, and everything just went black.

“(Y/N)!” Grayson screamed, mouth hanging open as he froze in his spot, shock overtaking his body as he watched his girlfriend’s body fly across the pavement. It took him a few seconds to snap out of it as he bolted towards you, heart racing when he saw the state that you're in.

You were laid on the floor almost lifeless, blood rushing out of your head and staining the road underneath you. "No no no, (Y/N), baby, wake up, please." Grayson was shaking, his tears an endless stream down his face as he slowly kneeled down, one hand went underneath your head in an attempt to support it, the other went to cup your face, as he stared down at you, fear, guilt and regret eating him up slowly. He didn’t dare attempt to move your body at all, in fear that he might hurt you even more.

Blood was now seeping into the fabric of his jeans, but he didn’t care, none of that mattered as the thought of losing you for good crossed his mind, and everything was going to be his fault.

“Help! Please! Somebody call the ambulance!” He cried, looking around the area to see if someone was within the distance. “Help!” He tried again, not even bothering to hide his sobs as he looked down at you, his tears dropping on your face. “Baby, stay with me, please (Y/N) stay with me.” He whispered stroking your cheek with his thumb just as Mrs. Potts, your neighbor walked out of her house, gasping once she saw the scene in front of her.

Grayson turned around to face her with a look of relief across his face, “We need an ambulance! Quick!”

“Robert! Call 911!” She yelled for her husband, and Grayson felt like he could breathe again, help was on the way.

“They’re coming (Y/N), just stay with me, everything’s going to be okay, I love you (Y/N), just stay with me, everything’s going to be fine.” Grayson repeated over and over again, but it sounded more like he was saying this to reassure himself, which is partly true as his mind was race just as fast as his heart was.

None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t been a dick. He shouldn’t have let those words out, he shouldn’t have hurt you. This was all his fault. And he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something even worse will happen to you.

Everything else was a huge blur as Grayson heard a siren from afar, red and blue lights slowly getting closer and closer to where he was, and the next thing he knew, you were being loaded up in the ambulance, Grayson never letting go of your hand as he sat by you, tears free falling, him looking at the love of his life with the thought of the possibility of losing her forever.

* * *

"Gray!" The loud footsteps made Grayson look up from his place on one of those chairs pushed against the wall in the waiting area where he was sat on with his head hung low. His bloodshot eyes met with his brother's, that certain look immediately gave Ethan such an uneasy feeling.

"Bro, what happened to you? Are you okay?" The older twin asked as he sat down beside him, eyes narrowing at his brother's state which was not good at all. Grayson's hands and clothes were stained with blood, the color now fading a little bit as it starts to dry, not to mention the anxious expression written all across his face.

"I – I'm fine, it's not my blood, I – its (Y/N)'s. She got in a car accident and I – she's still in the ER and no doctor has come out yet and fuck E, I–" Grayson didn't get to finish his sentence as Ethan pulled him in for a hug, Grayson's tears welling up in his eyes again.

"Everything going to be fine G. She's a strong girl, she'll be fine." Ethan hugged him tighter in an attempt to comfort him, knowing just how scared and anxious his brother is right now. Ethan doesn't know what exactly happened. Grayson just called him up and told him to meet him at the hospital, and when it's in the hospital, it's never good news.

Grayson pulled away with a sniffle, running a hand through his hair as he looked at Ethan, "It's all my fucking fault E, we were fighting and I said terrible things to her. I hurt her Ethan. I pushed her to her limit and she ran. If it wasn't for me she wouldn't be in this situation right now." Grayson looked down, catching a glimpse of his hands that were tainted with blood, your blood.

Your blood was literally in his hands, if that doesn't scream his fault then Grayson doesn't know what else does.

"Bro, don't beat yourself up will you? None of this is your fault. I know you probably feel so guilty right now but it's not your fault Gray. Accidents happen and none of us are in control of that." Ethan placed his hand on Grayson's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze in an attempt to get him out of his dark headspace. Grayson didn't say anything else, he just gave Ethan a small nod, even if his words didn't change his mind for one bit.

"What happened to the driver?" Ethan asked after a few moments of silence, looking slightly worried as Grayson's jaw clenched. "The fucking bastard just sped off. Didn't even bother to stop and help. The police are looking for him now, they said they'll just call me if they have any news." Grayson growled, the anger finally surfacing at the thought of the person who ran you over. He wouldn't be this mad if that person just stopped and helped, maybe you wouldn't have lost that much blood if they did, but they didn't, which makes them equally as assholes.

Grayson has to admit that this isn't entirely his fault, as much as he caused most of it, the driver is still part of the blame. Yes, the road was pretty much empty but they shouldn't have been reckless by speeding. Fuck they might have even spotted you from far away and pushed the brake right on time, but judging by the way they were driving, Grayson has a hunch that they were definitely drunk.

"How about her mom Gray, did you get to call her?" Grayson let out a deep sigh, staring at the floor as the guilt started take over again. "I – yeah, she'll be here in a few." The phone call between your mom and him was the hardest phone call Grayson has ever gone through. Just explaining to your mom what happened was a nightmare, especially when he's promised her to keep you safe and sound at all cost, to not hurt her only daughter and he has only managed to do the exact opposite.

The image of you almost lifeless across the pavement kept flashing across his eyes like its taunting him. What if he did things differently? What if he stood his ground and didn't let you get away from his grip? What if he actually controlled his anger this time? Things would have been a whole lot different.

"Grayson, none of this is your fault. Please stop blaming yourself, would (Y/N) want you to blame yourself over this?" At the mention of your name, Grayson's lips quivered, tears pooling back into his eyes. Ethan frowned, placing his hands on his brother's back in an attempt to comfort him.

"You don't understand E. I yelled at her, I –" Grayson took a deep breath, palms rubbing on his face before continuing. "I told her that she was just using me. I told her that she's just like my exes who use me to move on. I was implying to her that she's capable of cheating which I know she doesn't! I fucking know she never wants to hurt me. I just got so angry and I fucked up. I was such a fucking idiot! She's far better than them, way better than any girl I've been with, fuck she's such an incredible person, such an angel and I just fucked everything up like I always do." Grayson aggressively wiped the tear that fell on his cheek with the back of his hand, eyes glued to the floor as the foul words he let out kept echoing inside his mind.

Ethan sighed but didn't say a word. He didn't have too, Grayson already knew how disappointed he was in him, and he has every right to be.

Ethan saw firsthand how you made Grayson feel so happy. You definitely were helping him get through tough times whenever Ethan isn't there, or when both of them are in a dark place at the same time. You made Grayson believe in love again, but of course, his brother just can't seem to shake of his insecurities. He doesn't blame him though, getting your heart broken over and over again can mess you up real bad.

"Grayson?" A feminine voice made both boys look up. Grayson heart dropped when he saw your mom. You looked so much like her and that made everything harder for Grayson, especially with the sad eyes and worried look she was sporting, the expression all too familiar for his liking. It's like the universe is taunting him, not letting him forget about how badly he really has hurt you.

Grayson stood up almost immediately, facing her with the same amount of sadness. "I'm so sorry. We were fighting and I said some things. She ran to the streets and I didn't get to her in time. I could've stopped it from happening, I'm so sorry. I hurt her, I was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. I promised you to keep her safe and I–"

"Oh honey, come here." Your mom pulled him in for a hug, Grayson breaking at the embrace as he let out a sob, hugging her tighter. "It's not your fault dear. It's not your fault." She repeated over and over, rubbing his back comfortingly as the grown man cried his heart out.

"Excuse me, are you miss (Y/L/N)'s family?" Grayson pulled away from your mother to be met by a woman in scrubs with a solemn face that made Grayson's heart rate escalate.

"I'm her mother. How is she?" You mother stepped forward, her arms reaching out for the doctor to shake before wrapping it around herself as she tries to prepare herself for any news. Grayson didn't even realized how much he's shaking from nerves until Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to take a deep breath and relax.

"I'm Jean, (Y/N)'s doctor. She is still unconscious and in a critical condition. Due to how hard the impact was, she has lost a lot of blood and managed to acquire a lot of injuries from the accident ranging from broken bones, a bruised lung, a kidney laceration, and also including TBI or Traumatic Brain Injury. We are trying our best to stabilize her vitals but as for now, everything is still unpredictable." She gave your mother a sympathetic look, reaching out to hold your mother's hand in hers, "I know how hard it is but we have no choice but to hope for the best. I will make sure your daughter will get the best treatment she deserves. I can already tell she's a strong girl, she'll get through this."

"Thank you so much Doc." Your mother whispered. Grayson can see just how much she's trying not to cry, a strong woman, just like you are. He almost felt so ashamed for crying, but then again, he was weak and vulnerable, he always had been. If he had been strong enough, he would have been able to control himself, he wouldn't have hurt you, they wouldn't have been here in the first place.

"Of course, I'll be back for further updates." Jean gave all of them a small smile before retreating back to the other end of the hallway, leaving the three of them with worried minds still.

Grayson sat back down and buried his face in his hands, his mind getting darker at the news he just heard, his anxiety doing nothing but making things a lot worse than it seems.

You were in pain, so much pain and he can do nothing about it except hope that you'll be alright. If he had a control over the universe, if he had a choice, heck he would trade places with you in a heartbeat, he would much have it be him than you in that hospital bed.

"Gray, I think you need to go home, have a shower and get some rest bro." Grayson looked at Ethan and shook his head no, "I'm not leaving until she's okay E. I want to be there for her when..." in case something happens. Grayson stopped himself before things get even darker in his head. He needs to get rid of all this negative thoughts, or else he'll start to lose his mind.

"Grayson honey, Ethan's right. Just take a shower and get a few hours' sleep, then come back. I'll be holding the fort for you don't worry." Your mother spoke, placing a soft hand on Grayson's shoulder with a reassuring smile on her lips and the sense of urgency in her eyes.

"I – I guess I do need a shower. I'll be back as soon as I can." Grayson stood up reluctantly and gave her a hug, not wanting to leave but he kind of does, he needs a new set of clean clothes, and he looks like a complete mess with the blood in his shirt and jeans. And maybe he'll bring some extras too as he is planning on staying the night with you.

"Come on bro, I'll drive you home." Grayson nodded as Ethan draped his arm over his shoulder, both brothers slowly making their way out of the hospital, but just as soon as they reached the parking lot, Grayson's phone rang.

Ethan pulled away to let Grayson fish his phone out of his pocket, giving Ethan a confused look when an unknown number flashed across the screen, after a few seconds, he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, is this Grayson Dolan?"

"Uh, yes? Who's this?"

"This is Officer Ronald from LAPD, I just called to inform you that we have found the driver involved in the accident thanks to the CCTV around the area. He was in fact drunk and under the influence of drugs. He will be held accountable for his actions."

Grayson felt his blood boil at what he just heard. He fucking knew it, a drunk driver out of all people. And to think about the fact that they didn't even stop to help.

This drunk driver was the reason why you're unconscious right now, why you're suffering in that hospital bed. His baby hurt just because of some asshole who decided it was a good idea to drive above the speed limit while intoxicated.

"Will it be okay if I can see him right now? I would like to have a word." Grayson said before he could stop himself, his hand holding the phone so hard he was scared it would break.

"Of course sir, we will be waiting for you."

Grayson ended the call, his jaw clenched as he marched his way towards the passenger seat. Ethan followed his brother with furrowed brows, especially with the way Grayson slammed the door shut too hard.

"Who was that?" Ethan asked as he clicked his seat belt on. "Drive me to the police station. They found him." Grayson mumbled, his knuckles clenching as he stared outside the window. "Gray, you need to rel–" "Just fucking drive."

Ethan shook his head as he started the car, slowly pulling out of the parking lot and driving off, glancing at Grayson every now and then only to see him looking out the window, face stern with his hands still balled into fist.

"Grayson, promise me you won't do anything stupid." Ethan said firmly, eyes going back on the road. "Yeah, yeah I won't. I promise." Grayson brushed him off, but somehow, Ethan doesn't believe it one bit.

And he has every right not to believe him because once they stopped at the station, Grayson practically kicked the door open and stomped his way inside, Ethan struggling to keep up with him.

"Where the fuck is he?" Grayson growled, searching the room, and it wasn't that hard to find the driver considering that he and the police were the only ones there at this time of hour.

Startled, the man turned around to see who the voice belonged to, and when they locked eyes, all Grayson saw was red.

"You piece of–"

Before anyone could react, Grayson already had him pinned against the wall, both hands grabbing the collar of his shirt as he pressed the man on the concrete. The man remained unfazed with a smug smile plastered on his lips and this angered Grayson even more. He pulled him just an inch away from the wall just to slam him back with force, making the man cough, wiping that stupid grin off his face.

"Sir! Please put him down!" The police officer warned, his hand raised as he slowly inched closer in an attempt to control the situation.

"You fucking asshole! She's hurt because of you! Who gave you the fucking idea to drive while drunk and fucking high huh?! You could've helped but no, you ran like the fucking coward that you are!" Grayson yelled, the veins on his arms popping at how hard his was gripping.

"Maybe if your little girlfriend wasn't running in the fucking street she wouldn't have been hit you prick. Or maybe if you were fast enough, she could've been saved by her prince charming." The man taunted, chuckling deeply and without a second of thought, Grayson retracted his right hand, landing a hard blow on the man's jaw, making him spit out blood before turning his head back to Grayson, his smile still plastered on his bloody lips.

"Grayson! Stop!" Ethan rushed to his brother, quickly grabbing his hand before he could land another punch. "Let me go Ethan." Grayson said through gritted teeth, trying his best to pull his hands off of Ethan's grip, but the other twin wasn't letting him have it.

"Would you want to spend the night in a fucking jail cell or beside (Y/N) and be there for her?" Ethan said blatantly, and this made Grayson lower his hand slowly. "You're going to fucking pay for this." Grayson growled, pushing the driver hard before finally letting him go, turning on his heel as he left without another word.

Ethan sighed, turning to the police officer to discuss everything that needs to be sorted out.

Grayson on the other hand was fuming as he yanked the car door open, shutting it hard and letting out a frustrated yell, hands slamming at the dashboard in front of him.

What the driver said really hit a nerve. He thought it would be easy enough to blame it all on that fucking asshole but how can he when he knows he's also a big part of the reason why you're hurt too.

No matter what he does, or who he blames, everything just comes back to him.

With a deep sigh, Grayson buried his face in his hands, his tears starting to well up at the overwhelming situation. You were in the hospital, still unstable, maybe even barely clinging to life and the last thing that happened between you two was a heated fight.

Grayson couldn't stop the soft sob from coming out of his mouth just as Ethan pulled the car door open.

"What the fuck was that?" He started, ready to go on a full on rant but when he saw his brother's state, his expression softened, his scowl getting replaced by a deep frown almost instantly. "Gray, don't let what he said get into your head because it's not true. You did not want this, no one wanted this. And it was definitely his fault for being the reckless driver that he is." Ethan tried to talk him out of his constant self-reproach, but the younger twin only gave him a nod.

Grayson stayed in the same position in complete silence, trying his best to compose himself. God he was a mess both inside and out, and he couldn't think of anything to help get his head straight.

"Put your seatbelt on. Let's just go home." Ethan decided to drop it, turning the ignition on and waited for Grayson to get his seatbelt on before driving off.

Once they arrived at the house, Grayson went straight into his room to take a shower, maybe it'll help clear his mind a little.

When the hot water hit his skin, his body started to relax, but his head? Not so much. He just can't stop thinking about the worse, so he quickly got out of that confined space before his thoughts start to suffocate him.

He needs to be beside you, he doesn’t care how tired he is, he just needs to see you, to make sure you're alright so that he can at least keep his mind at ease. As quick as he could, Grayson changed into some sweats and a hoodie. He brought his backpack in his closet and stuffed it with more clothes and other things he needed because he wasn't planning on leaving the hospital until you do.

Grayson slung it over his shoulder before getting out of his room and walking straight to Ethan's room. He knocked on the door before opening it, finding his brother lying on his bed, phone in his hand. "E, I'm going back to the hospital."

"Wait, I'll drive you." Ethan began to stand up, but Grayson shook his head. "No it’s fine, I'm not sure if I'm coming back home anytime soon." Ethan frowned at this but he knew better than to protest.

"Okay, be careful Gray." Ethan noted, getting all concerned because he isn’t entirely sure if Grayson can drive safely with how his eyes show that he's been into his head too much.

"I will. Goodnight bro."

"Goodnight G. I love you."

"Love you too." Grayson gave Ethan one last nod before closing the door heading straight into his car as he made his way back to the hospital.

When Grayson got there, he went straight to where he left your mother only to find no one there. Confused, he turned back around and walked towards the front desk, giving the receptionists your name and finding out that they have finally moved you to the ICU, and this made Grayson worry even more.

He rushed towards the ICU just in time to see your mom getting out of it. "Grayson you're back." She greeted, a calmer expression on her face as she gave him a warm hug. "How is she?" Grayson asked once they pulled away.

"She's in a comma Gray. The doctor said there was swelling in her brain and that there's no certainty as to when she'll wake up but she's going to be okay, she'll get through this, she's a strong girl after all." She gave Grayson's hand a comforting squeeze.

Grayson swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded, "Can I see her?" He asked, already itching to see her. "Of course, I'm just going back home to get a few things and I'll be right back."

"No, it's already late and it's an hour drive Mrs. (Y/L/N), and you need to get some rest too. I'll watch her, don’t worry."

"Okay, I do need to sort things out with work too. Thank you Grayson, for taking care of her, I'll be back in the morning." Your mom gave him one last hug before going on her way.

Grayson turned to face the door, his hand shaking as he reached for the doorknob, and when he opened it, his heart dropped on the floor.

There you were, lying on the bed with all this different machines hooked up on your body. Your right leg was enclosed in a cast, your arms covered in too many bruises and cuts, and Grayson could not even begin to imagine how many more there are underneath your hospital gown. Your head was wrapped in a bandage with a brace supporting your neck, eyes shut tight and your lips bruised too, but you still looked beautiful in his eyes, you always have.

Grayson didn’t bother to stop the tears from escaping his eyes as he slowly made his way to your side, whole body shaking just seeing the love of his life badly hurt. He dropped his bag on the floor as he sat down on the chair beside your bed, shaky hands reaching out to hold yours, being as gentle as he could scared to hurt you even more.

"(Y/N), baby…" He sobbed, leaning forward as he held your hand against his lips, looking up at your unconscious state as he cried his hear out, mumbling 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

"I'm so sorry baby, I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I'm so sorry this happened to you (Y/N), you don’t deserve this, you don't deserve to get hurt angel." Grayson whispered, shutting his eyes tight as he pressed your hand against his cheek, his heart aching and his breath heavy.

He stayed like that for a while until his eyes couldn’t produce any more tears, and before he knew it, he started to doze off, body slowly shutting down at how stress and worked up he's been and he lets it, falling asleep right by your side.

* * *

It's been two weeks and you still weren’t awake.

Grayson looks and feels like a complete mess.

He has been in the hospital almost 24/7, only leaving to go get more clothes and getting himself cleaned up or when your mom is around to give her some space alone. Ethan came everyday too, bringing Grayson some food and sometimes just to force him out to go home and get some much needed sleep where he was properly laid down on a comfortable bed.

You were recovering still. Your bruises were starting to fade and your cuts were slowly healing. The cast on your leg was still there though the neck brace and the bandage on your head was gone, the cut on your head close to healed.

The past few weeks has been the same thing, Grayson just staying by your side, hoping for the very best and waiting for you to open your eyes.

Every night when or whenever you two are alone, he'd talk to you, telling you how he feels and how much he misses you so bad. He misses your voice, your laugh, your smile, your touch, just everything about you. A few tears gets shed here and there but he's getting better at keeping himself together day by day, knowing he needs to be strong, with you and for you.

Today was no exception.

He was sat down beside you, fingers playing with yours as he kept his eyes fixated on your face, the face of an angel in his opinion. No matter how beautiful and peaceful you looked, Grayson needs to see those gorgeous (E/C) of yours.

"Open those eyes for me princess." He whispers under his breath, intertwining your hand and his and giving it a soft peck. Then all of the sudden, he felt it twitch in his grasp.

Setting it gently back down, he stared at your hand for a moment and nothing happened. He let out a huge sigh of disappointment. Maybe he was just imagining things, being sleep deprived and all. But when his gaze landed back to your face, he saw your eyes slowly beginning to flutter open.

Grayson shot out of his seat, quickly turning to face his brother who was sat in the corner of the room, face buried in his phone. "Ethan! Get the doctor!" He whispered yelled, and when Ethan looked up and saw Grayson's expression, he quickly stood up and ran outside.

His head snapped back to look at you when he heard you groan, and it took all his strength to stop himself from balling his eyes out once he saw you fully awake, eyes open as you scanned the room.

He rushed to your side, taking your hand back in his as he stood there with a huge smile plastered on his face. "Hey angel…" He whispered, an overwhelming amount of happiness overtaking his body. Grayson started to lean down to give you a kiss but when he saw the terrified look on your face he stopped himself, his smile slowly leaving his lips.

You started to pull your hand out of his hold, and Grayson frowned. "Hey, what's wrong?" Grayson tried to touch you but you flinched away, staring at him in utter confusion as you held your hand against your chest.

Grayson's heart stung at your reaction, his hands going limp on his side as he shook his head, not understanding what's going on. Were you still mad at him because of the fight? Did you really mean it when you said you were done?

He waited for you to talk, waiting for you to tell him to leave you alone, that you don't want him here. But when he finally heard your voice for the first time in weeks, he wasn't prepared to hear the words that came out of your mouth.

"Who are you?"

-:-:-:-:-

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Part 2 coming soon

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ethanplaysfavorites · 5 years

Text

Lost in the moment (Thomas Hunt x MC)

Note: This is a prequel one-shot for Liar, Liar. || Rose Moran is my MC. || This is an MC from Hollywood U and not RCD. For those who don’t know: Thomas Hunt first appeared in the game Hollywood U where he’s an LI which means he has a relationship with a student of his. But while Thomas is great in that game, the other characters can be super annoying, so I changed a few things about MC.

“Am I seriously failing your class?” Rose demanded once the door of the office closed behind her.

Thomas glanced up from the essay he was reading and rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, Ms. Moran, you are. Maybe it’s time to actually attend my classes on a regular basis, don’t you agree?” he asked with a coy smile.

“I do, but you know I can’t,” she pointed out, putting her hands on her hips as she let out a long sigh. “I have to be in hair and makeup at the time of your class so unless you know a way for me to be at two places at the same time, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Well, maybe you can attend them next time. You won’t receive special treatment only because you already have your own TV show,” Thomas explained calmly then leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest.

The young woman only watched him in silence for a few seconds, wondering what to say. He was right, she knew that, but she still needed a solution, something better than giving it another try later, hoping her work and school schedules wouldn’t clash. “I’m not asking for special treatment. I just want to get my degree at the end of this semester so I can focus on my job,” she tried to argue as she let her hands fall to her sides. “I can’t… I can’t fail this class, Professor Hunt.”

For a short moment there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that disappeared so fast she’d almost missed it. “Then be a good girl from now on and make sure you can attend every single one of my classes in the remaining two months,” he informed her with a shrug. “Do this and you won’t fail, I promise.”

“I have to be in the studio at the same time, I can’t be here too! Which part of this can you not understand?” Rose couldn’t care about keeping her voice down anymore. She was mad at him, frustrated that she had to explain this problem over and over again. But then she stopped pacing around the room and put up her hands. “You know what? I don’t care, I can’t deal with this now.”

Without waiting for his response she stormed out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why were you yelling at Professor Hunt?”

She came to a sudden halt and looked at her friend. “I’m failing his class so now I have to attend every single one of his remaining classes to pass. Which I clearly can’t do,” she added, giving Addison a desperate look, silently begging for a good advice.

“Well, yelling at him surely won’t help,” the blonde pointed out. “You know him, he’s probably so mad at you that he wouldn’t let you pass anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad.”

“Okay, maybe not, but you know what I mean.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Rose ran a hand through her bright red hair. “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

“That would be a good start,” her friend agreed with a nod.

“Alright, fine. Time to swallow my dignity.” Putting up her hands, she took a deep breath and turned to the door, but after taking only two steps towards it she turned back. “Hey, Addison, do you have plans for tonight? We should go out and do something fun.”

“How about a movie night instead? I’m tired and I’d rather stay at home.”

“Sounds great. I’ll call you later.”

Addison waved and began to walk away, turning back briefly to say, “Good luck!”

Once she took a deep breath and gathered her strength, Rose knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for his permission. Thomas was, once again, behind his desk, reading one of the essays he’d tried to finish before she came in the first time.

“Did you forget something?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, keeping his voice neutral.

“I would like to apologize for my outburst and behavior,” she began, biting her lower lip for a second as she thought about how to go on, what she should say to make him forgive her. “You’re right, I can’t expect you to let me pass if I don’t attend your classes like everybody else.”

Long seconds passed in silence but then he finally nodded. “Two months, four essays. Write them and you won’t fail, even if you don’t attend my classes,” he told her.

“But… why?”

“Because I realized that you are at the very beginning of your career and the producers won’t change the schedule for you.”

“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile. “And I’m seriously sorry for my behavior, it–”

“Are you done?” Thomas interrupted her as he stood up and walked around the desk, stopping a few feet away from her.

It was a clear message: he was trying to get rid of her because he didn’t have time for this conversation. Not like she could blame him; he obviously had a few papers left to grade that afternoon. “Oh, yes, sure. I’ll go now,” she said quietly.

“Rose.”

He called her by her first name which meant he wasn't talking to her as her professor anymore. The smile that appeared on his lips confirmed this so she let out a short sigh of relief.

“Come here,” he said softly, holding out his hands for her.

She took them, intertwining their fingers as she stepped closer to him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad,” Thomas assured her as he kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m proud of you and what you’ve achieved.”

Before she could say anything, his lips captured hers, kissing her so slowly and tenderly that she felt like she could melt on the spot. After all those months it still amused her how quickly and seamlessly he could switch between his two different roles in her life. One moment he was the kind of professor who could make her blood freeze in her veins, while the next he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

Her body shivered when he let go of her hands to reach up and cup her face, suddenly deepening their kiss. He became very demanding, stepping forward and pushing Rose backwards until her back hit the wall. This wasn’t the first time it’d happened; he got so lost in his emotions, in the lust that eventually clouded his mind that he stopped thinking. He didn’t think about where they were, about the possibility of someone walking in on them, so she had to do it for him.

“I should get going,” she told him with an apologetic smile once she pushed him away a little.

“Come over tonight.”

“I can’t, I have plans.” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows and gave her a questioning look, clearly suspicious that she dared to say no to him. Shaking her head, she said, “Movie night with Addison.”

“Cancel it.”

“Thomas–”

He let out a deep growl before he kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her as close as he could. “I’ll help you with the first essay,” he began quietly while he kissed her cheek then moved his lips down to her chin.

Rose couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Are you blackmailing me now?”

“No, I'm just pointing out that I could help you,” he whispered in her ear.

“Wouldn’t that count as cheating?”

“It’s for my class,” he replied with a predatory smile once he leaned back to look at her, “I won’t punish you for this.”

“Oh, trust me, you can punish me anytime. Well, not in class, but–”

At this point Thomas completely lost it and didn’t even try to restrain himself anymore. He kissed her again, letting his fingers wander up her back under her shirt, clearly planning to unhook her bra. As painful as it was, Rose put her palms on his chest and pushed him away, making sure they didn’t do something they would either regret later or what could get them in trouble.

For a moment he looked confused but then he let out a short laugh and licked his lips. “I love your dirty mind. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

PS: Sorry for the typos/mistakes.

Taglist: @fangirlingmum @steelbluewarpaint @zeniamiii @marycarrillo21 @hopelessromantic1352 @drstrange46ers @alleksa16 @lilyofchoices

#thomas hunt #fic: liar liar #thomas hunt x mc #hollywood u #red carpet diaries #playchoices

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