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m1d-45 · 1 year

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first encounters

-> warnings: n/a? implied fighting, and typical imposter au sagau things, i suppose. inconsistent verb tenses.

-> this is an old fic that i’m leaving up for posterity. the (in my opinion) better version has recently been posted, found here. i recommend this one, as i personally like it better

his intuition is wrong, for once, or so he thinks.

he sees you sitting on the beach of ritou as he’s walking through. he’s due for a meeting with thoma, but… that can wait.

he sits besides you, noting the way you turn as he approached.

and he recognizes you. the posters plastered all over the city, the word-of-mouth descriptions from other officers, you’re the fake. dirty skin and scuffed clothes, though paper doesn’t capture the pain in your eyes quite as well.

“hey there! detective shikanoin heizou of the ten-“

“i know you.”

your voice sends a chill down his spine. it pulls at something deep in his core, his intuition screaming that this is friend, not foe, and the reaction you pulled from him is almost as shocking as the realization that his instincts are wrong.

wrong, because you’re a fugitive.

he fakes a smile, unable to shake the feeling that he’s doing something wrong. “do you? gotta say, i can’t blame you; my name is flung around quite a lot.”

you’re tense, for valid reason, really, but not running. you know him, you know who he is, so why…

blank eyes peer at him from under the overgrown shags of your hair, half-lidded and tired. they remind him of jewelry that’s lost it’s luster.

hes not sure why. he should hate you. you fly in the face of everything heizou stood for—truth, instincts, his creator—but he can’t find the will to do anything to arrest you.

“so, what’re you doing on ritou? need any help getting a permit to the rest of the island?”

he tells himself it’s because doing that would force your hand, not because he wants to help. that’s ridiculous. has he caught a cold?

“no.”

“then surely there’s a more comfortable place to be than the beach? tides get pretty high around here, it would do you good to find a place to rest.”

you look out to the sea, some of the tension leaving your body. “i don’t have anywhere to go.”

heizu’s chest is feeling oddly tight.

he feels like he’s seeing the stars themselves in your eyes despite the darkness and the fact that it’s not possible. there’s a small shimmer to them as if the sun itself was contained inside, a glow that shows when they flicker over him like you’re pulling his secrets out through his. “i’m sure you know that, though.”

he does, he knows, he was at the meeting with kujou sara and the rest of the police force, he was the one she pulled aside to personally ask he put his full attention on it—as if he hadn’t already the second she mentioned his god—and he’s heard of the stories from the mainland.

he can’t answer. his mouth feels dry, all of his normal quick retorts and easy replies falling out of his reach.

he settles for a nod, and some of the light drains from your figure.

you look dull, like the rusted crown of a king that once reigned. empty, hollow, everything he once stood for ripped away.

heizou begins to doubt his decision-

no. that’s stupid. he has to get this- this spell off of him. he remembers that, one of the guesses from that alchemist in mondstat, he remembers the paper, he remembers-

he remembers-

he remembers the soft smile on his father’s face, wiping the dirt from his knees. “you must be careful,” he says, careful not to irritate the scrapes with the cloth. “you have been blessed with this mind of yours, but you must be wise enough to use it properly.”

“i’m wise!” he insists, and his father laughs, reaching for the bandages at his side.

“you’re intuitive,” he corrects. “and every day i pray to our creator that you to learn the difference.”

heizou tears his eyes away.

you’re a fraud.

he has to arrest you.

you’re tricking the people, youre impersonating the highest deity, the literal god of gods, youve fooled even heizou’s mind, you have to be stopped.

…so why isn’t he stopping you?

you echo his sentiment, “why aren’t you trying to kill me yet?”

his heart both flares and breaks, hands twitching for his cuffs but also to hold you close. your voice is so rough, so cracked and tattered and filled with something so similar to betrayal that it’s paralyzing.

he needs to arrest you.

he needs to get you water.

he has to bring you in so the shogun can kill you.

he has to get you a room somewhere so you can rest.

he is shikanoin heizou, doushin of the police office and most trusted detective of the tenryou commission, and he cannot- he will not be swayed by your words.

(but it’s not your words. it’s your presence, too. the air around you is so soft, so welcoming, he immediately feels at ease in a way he hasn’t in a while. it’s not just your words; that would be an understatement so gross it would be borderline criminal.)

“i try to leave that to the higher-ups” is what he says instead.

you sign, running a shaking hand over your hair. when you speak, you sound like you’re about to cry. “i don’t want to fight you, heizou.”

the way you say his name fills his chest with something hotter than fire and sweeter than honey, a supernova made into sugar and placed into the gap left by his heart.

the sun shines off the water and lights the small flyaways in your hair golden, outlining you in its glow and the only thought in his mind is that of your beauty.

he licks his lips, forcing words to come up. “i don’t want to fight you either.”

it’s the truth, and he hates that it is.

what is he, some kind of traitor? he’s no worse than you if he’s acting like this.

instead of saying anything else, you stand, and heizou scrambles to follow. he tells himself it’s because he needs to be ready to run after you. that’s it. that’s all.

you take a step away but the detective is quick to match it, transfixed even as you draws your weapon of choice: a long wooden staff, akin to a walking stick. it’s taller than he is.

the stranger—that feels wrong, it feels like he’s known you all his life- but that’s wrong, that’s a lie, it’s a spell it’s a trick it’s a ruse it’s-—takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“you’ll lose your job, detective.”

he might.

heizou blinks.

…he won’t.

no, he won’t.

he’s let this go on for too long already. he’s being outlandish. this is wrong. it’s his job to take in criminals and hes staring at one of the worst, so what is he hesitating for?

why is he waiting- why is he stalling?

heizou pushes past his minds’ pleas to stop and swings.

later that day, he walks to the creator’s shrine. his mind is scattered, confused, a bad state for a detective to be in, and this is the only place he can think of that would clear it.

he places a dendrobrium amongst the other offerings.

it doesn’t soothe the guilt.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau heizou #< not a tag? odd #shikanoin heizou #adding the ‘x reader’ feels wrong #but it’s there in spirit #hhh local dumbass tries to edit at 3:12 am #you won’t believe what happens next(not clickbait)!!!

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bleachification · 1 year

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trojan horse - dazai

+ dazai x reader (fantasy au)

+ this is ch. two of all that glitters is not gold (the prologue)

ch. one is here: dissonance

ch. three: in reverence

Golden armadas decorate the sea like jewels fastened upon a crystal hand, dotted plains of might and power—all at the behest of your nation’s adversary. The kingdom’s greatest foe… Prince Dazai Osamu.

Princeling, as you used to call him. A nickname borne of affection and sullied by betrayal.

Tonight, the royal fleet departs for its homeland with jewels, satins, and you aboard. In less than four hours, your vows will be cemented into your country’s history and the war shall halt—on paper, that is. The mere thought makes your head throb.

Waving the useless deliberations away, you turn away from the window. A sweeping glance across the space before you elicits a tingle of discomfort that crawls up your spine and burrows its way into the back of your throat. Wooden chests and velvet cases filled with your most prized material possessions line the north-facing wall. The furniture, stripped of any and all embellishments, look like skeletons. Your room seems infinitely more spacious now that everything is packed up. Barren of comfort, you swallow at the sight.

It is almost as if you are a stranger in your own home.

“Is everything ready?” You ask.

“Yes, your highness. As you requested, I have packed up all of the items written on your list,” the man behind you replies.

“Including…?”

“Yes,” he hesitates. “Although, if I may speak, your highness…”

You turn towards the large window, gaze drifting across the sparkling cityscape wrought with peachy hues and sharp outlines. “You always do Chuuya. Go on, say what you intend.”

Chuuya runs a hand through his hair, huffing in irritation. “This is dangerous… foolish. Even for you.”

You crack a small smile at his bluntness. It is a comfort. “Did you just call me a fool?”

You’re teasing him. Just like you always have. Just like you did back when titles did not matter and your loved ones were not handpicked in favour of court politics. Back when things were much, much simpler.

Chuuya only scoffs. “You had to hear it. It may as well be from your childhood friend.”

You level your gaze at the ginger-haired man, the face you have known since birth only stares back at you, unfazed. “Ah, so you’re speaking as my friend, then? Not my personal aide?”

“And if I am?” He asks.

“Then I appreciate your concern. But I will be fine. I have gone through much worse than that of a wedding, remember?” You raise a brow when he rolls his eyes so dramatically you fear they’ll fall out of that thick skull of his. When he doesn’t speak, you continue on, “I can handle this. I can handle him.”

“He is not the person we used to know! He never was,” Chuuya protests.

A shooting star falls across the sky, leaving a glowing path in its wake. You make a silent wish and pray the heavens hear you. “I understand.”

“Do you really?” Skepticism coats his every word.

You turn your head slightly, just enough so you can see him from the corner of your eye. Chuuya crosses his arms, impatiently tapping his fingers against his bicep as he expresses his disdain.

“Yes.”

Your answer only irritates him further. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t be packing belladonna in your bags and strapping daggers to your legs! If you insist on going down this path, Y/N, you could–”

“Die?”

You are well aware of the consequences of your plans, death included. But if the cost of revenge is your life, you will gladly pay that price.

Chuuya realizes this and his irritation fades to something softer. Something sadder—more fearful. “Yes. Precisely that. You could die.”

You step down from your windowside and make your way to Chuuya's side. Luggage litters the marble floor, causing a misstep or two. In what feels like a mere moment, the dying sunset casts the already lustrous room in a gorgeous light. Warm orange tones pour into the room like a golden tide, flooding out any and all dullness.

You nudge his shoulder with your own, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. Chuuya looks like he’s about to go and strangle Dazai himself just to keep you from coming to harm. “You don’t believe I can do this? That I can hurt him? Bring him to his knees?”

Chuuya shuffles so that he is facing you, still scowling, still with arms crossed. “You know it’s not about that. He… Dazai is out of his mind. Who knows what he’ll do to you if he uncovers your true intentions.”

Chuuya says his name with such scorn you almost feel bad for Dazai. Almost.

“Do you really think that I’m unaware of how… cruel he is?” You pause, a distant memory floats around the back of your mind; a painful past you can never outrun, “I experienced that inhumanity firsthand, Chuuya… watched as it destroyed my family, and nearly my empire as well. I couldn’t burn the image out of my mind if I tried.”

Your best friend falls silent. You do for a second as well, resolve hardening in the process.

“For that, he will pay. By no one’s hand but my own,” you vow.

A hand that you have trained for years, all for the sole purpose of hurting him. To be able to bear the heavy weight of a blade—to lift it and apply just enough pressure that you are able to draw fear from his eyes and a line of red across his throat. The thought of having that much power over Dazai… it is addicting. Exhilarating. Terrifying.

Chuuya stares at you in both irritation and concern, his nerves firing at every end as he paces the length of the room, muttering as he does so. “So damned stubborn… Cannot believe… Just like when…”

“Are you done cursing under your breath? I do still require your help with preparing for the ceremony,” you comment, rolling your eyes as his grumbles get louder.

Chuuya practically stomps his way back to you, huffing in defiance. “If there ever was a record, let it be shown that I am vehemently against this moronic plan.”

You make a noise of agreement. “Duly noted. If that is all, will you come help me with my cosmetics now?”

You stroll over to the cushioned seat tucked under the shimmering vanity hidden away in the corner of your room. A round mirror pebbled with milky pearls and brushed with diamond powder sits atop a glossy desk surface. The ornate piece was gifted by your father for your birthday many years before. For a second, you are glad for the marriage. For as long as it lasts, you will never have to see that sickening thing again—never to be done up on the whims of the Emperor.

You sit down. The chair is soft—too soft—and you sink further into the cushion than desired.

Chuuya grabs a few elaborate accessories, powders, and a shockingly large pile of fabric from the drawers and closet next to you. He drops them unceremoniously onto your empty bed and shifts through the mess before he finds what he is searching for; a small pot of safflower lotion.

“Yeah, yeah. I still don’t understand the reasoning behind all this dress-up,” he mutters. He hands you the lotion and busies himself with the mountain of clothing on the bed.

“It is something I hope you never come to understand, my dear friend,” you sigh.

After all, there is no worth in a canvas without paint, much less a doll bare of face.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

Four days and four nights. That is how long you have been at sea, a prisoner of your father’s accord on the enemy prince’s ship—No Longer Human. You find the name a bit morose for your liking, but there’s no accounting for taste, you suppose. The others following aren’t much better. You spared the various liners a glance before boarding the capital ship. From memory, there was one called Twin Dark, and another painted with swirling red letters of: The Crystal Rose. You’d much prefer being on the latter—roses are your favourite flower. They have been ever since childhood.

You wonder…

No. You shake the inkling of a thought out of your head. The chance that that man would remember something so obscure about someone he so despises… laughable.

But you don’t laugh. You don’t do much at all. You stare out of the floor-to-ceiling glass that is more akin to a wall than a window. Vast ocean greets you, sparkling like a veil of crushed gems under the setting sun, sitting snug below an infinite sky.

Someone knocks on your door—three quick raps. You make a noise of confirmation and the door quietly opens to reveal a stranger. The man who walks into your room is tall and lean, with thin wired frames resting on the sharp bridge of his nose. His hair, long and so blonde it almost glows, falls across his shoulders and ends at the small of his back. There is a sternness to his expression—humourless and collected, but not cold. In fact, there isn’t anything antagonistic about him.

Under normal circumstances, you would give him a friendly smile, say hello, maybe even compliment him on his clothes. Today is not a normal circumstance. He wears garments stitched of a gorgeous blue silk, reminiscent of the midnight sky. Layers of fabric pool off of him, white and grey, all covered by a traditional robe. The robe is lined with silver edges and tied together at his front with a matching sash. The patterns on the outerwear swirl together, falling lotus petals that almost come to life with his movements. From the looks of it, he must be a high-ranking official in Dazai’s court.

The blonde man pushes his glasses up with his left hand and adjusts the box he holds in his right. It doesn’t exactly look impressive, a rectangular package wrapped in silver paper. It’s the size of a large book. The only thing out of the ordinary is the black lettering on the surface; a phrase written in glittering cursive. Your name.

The blond man bows. “I greet Your Highness, heir to the Northern Empire. I am Doppo Kunikida, Chief Minister and personal aide to His Majesty.”

“His Majesty?” You raise a brow. Last you heard, which was only three days ago at your marriage ceremony, Dazai was only a prince.

“Yes,” Kunikida says.

You wait. The Chief Minister stays silent, something you are sure he does quite often.

“I am in no mood for games,” you state plainly.

Kunikida straightens and nods his head almost imperceptibly at your thinly-veiled irritation. “Apologies. His Majesty, Dazai Osamu, has succeeded the throne as of two nights ago. The formal coronation is set for three days' time, the evening after our arrival.”

You blink. Dazai is… king? The little boy who used to pick out flowers and break down sobbing when a thorn pricked him is now the leader of an entire kingdom? The leader of the enemy kingdom, you remind yourself. As the king, his power has risen considerably, along with the stakes of your position and plans of revenge.

Guess you really can't call him Princeling anymore.

You swallow down the uneasiness in your throat and turn your attention to the silver box, hoping Kunikida doesn’t pick up on your anxiety.

“What is it?”

Kunikida hands it to you before taking a step back. “A gift.”

“Let me guess, a gift from His Majesty?”

If Kunikida notices the sarcasm in your tone (and it is quite difficult to not notice it), he doesn’t show it nor comment on it. “A wedding present, he said. A small offering of peace.”

You want to shove the new King of Yokohama’s peace offering down his throat until he takes the shape of a rectangle. Sadly, Dazai isn’t here for you to do so, and it would be quite the scandal; ‘Royal marriage ends after three days due to newly appointed King Dazai’s death by cardboard box.’’

You thank Kunikida for the gift and he quietly leaves with another bow. It might be your imagination, but the stony-faced Chief Minister seems relieved to be dismissed. You hadn’t let your annoyance show that clearly, had you?

The box isn’t very heavy. You set it on the large four-poster bed in the center of the room.

You haven’t seen Dazai since the wedding—if you can even call such a stifling event that. He disappeared right after and left you in the care of the soldiers and attendants of Yokohama Kingdom. They are the ones who brought you aboard the ship and showed you to your cabin. Though “cabin” isn’t quite the accurate description for your quarters. Aside from the huge bed laden with piles of silk and cotton and the seemingly never-ending glass wall to your left, the room has everything and anything you can possibly think of.

The marbled tiles under your feet are cold to the touch, and the deep blue reminds you of the midnight sea. Rows and rows of clothing, shoes, and accessories line the walk-in closet in the back, right next to the silver-gilded fireplace that lights up the room with warmth. Across from it sits a large loveseat tufted with silk and made of black velvet.

And yet… despite the glamour and luxury of your accommodations, the only thing that catches your attention right now is the gift. You pick it up and stare at the shining letters. You should throw it into the fireplace. Let it burn to ashes. Better yet, you should chuck it off the side of the ship and pray a shark eats it.

Your fingers twitch.

About all of three seconds pass before you rip open the outer wrapping of the package and uncover it. There is a folded note sitting atop a gently folded bundle of satin—a stunning article of clothing. The garment is noticeably traditional wear, and very formal. It shimmers with every little touch, every little breath. It is coloured a deep red, a shade not unlike blood, that is beyond flattering against your complexion.

The sight of it makes you want to hurl. First it was your father, now it's Dazai who thinks he has the right to dress you up… to show you off like some sort of war prize.

You won’t let him have the satisfaction. You toss the clothing aside and reach for the envelope that came with it. You open up the folded paper and immediately recognize Dazai’s handwriting. It hasn't changed much since he was young. Slightly more polished, and definitely less chicken-scratchy.

Y/N,

I have drafted letters like this one every single night for the past ten years, only to throw them all into the fireplace out of frustration. Or perhaps it was out of cowardice and shame. Even now, I am nervous—no—terrified at the notion of you reading this. Even now, you have such a startling effect on me.

You must hate me. I understand. Anyone would feel the same in your shoes. Although…regrettably, I cannot say the same for myself. But that is an indication of my own weak constitution more than anything else.

No matter. You hate me and that is that. But we are married now and I am set to change things. Our countries require our amicability, despite any personal feelings you may harbour. I will not force you to care for me—but I will try, for as long as I am able.

Please join me for dinner service tonight. In three hours time; southern side of the upper deck.

We have much to discuss.

P.S. After much deliberation and many sleepless hours, I decided that red would look best on you. Though I fear even a paper sack would leave me quite speechless as long as you were the one wearing it.

Your (beloved) husband,

Dazai Osamu

Your first thought is to punch a wall. Your second thought is to punch a certain king right in his smug face. After so many years, he is still pretending to be on your side. Still pretending that there is anything left between you that isn’t the shattered remnants of a tragic history best left in the past.

The fireplace flares as it swallows up the last of the note and garment, leaving nothing behind but charcoal dust and a soft warmth that rolls over the room. You sigh, both satisfied and exhausted; completely drained from the emotional turmoil of the past week.

The sun is long gone underneath the waves, dark midnight now settled in its place. The moon, in all its glory, lights up a path across the sea for the ship to follow and casts a silver sheen over your room. There is not a speck of land in sight. It is as if the world had been swallowed by the sea, with only the stars as companions. The sight makes you sleepy… and just a little bit homesick, which surprises you.

Kunikida shows up a short time later, ready to bring you to Dazai. You insist on taking your dinner in your quarters, much to Kunikida’s protests, and lock the door behind the maid that brings it. Just in case. Though the lock didn’t do much to block the incessant knocking on your door that sounds just as you are about to fall asleep.

Peeved and a little puzzled, you stumble out of bed in a daze, making your way to the door that is currently taking a beating from the other side.

Is it Kunikida? The maid from earlier? Who the hell could need you at this ungodly hour?

The answer comes in the form of Dazai Osamu. His hair is tangled and sticking in all directions, like he was tossing and turning. His clothes are nothing but a cream cotton robe covering a pair of loose matching bottoms, wrinkled and creased. He is still as beautiful as ever.

You slam the door in his face. Or at least, you try to, but Dazai anticipates it and sticks a foot out to block it. He winces, ever slightly, but gives no other indication of discomfort.

You are positively irked.

Before you are able to cuss him out and physically push him away, he speaks up.

“Apologies. I couldn’t sleep. It seems that even in the dreamland, you manage to plague my every thought,” he says with a slight frown.

Confusion and irritation swirl in your chest as you take in… everything. Is he out of his damn mind? More than usual?

You narrow your eyes at him, not buying this innocent act of his for even a moment. “What, pray tell, am I supposed to do with that information? You act as if this problem is one I can, or even want, to help you solve. Though I assure you that is not the case. Unless there is an emergency—a real one—leave me be, Your Majesty. You and I have nothing to speak of.”

His frown deepens. “Who…You don’t need to call me that.”

Your left eye twitches. “What?”

Dazai swallows, an air of nervous energy pours out from him, along with annoyance. That just makes you even more mad—if anyone should be annoyed, it should be you. It also puts you on edge—Dazai is rarely nervous.

“There is no reason for you to call me by a title. My name—it is yours to use freely,” he says.

“I disagree. Now, Your Majesty, why are you here?” You reject him flatly.

Dazai is clearly unsatisfied with your decision but decides to drop it. For now. He clears his throat. “You didn’t come to dinner.”

“I didn’t want to.”

If your reply hurts him, he doesn’t show it. He just nods like he expected that answer from you. “Right. Is it because of the clothes? Kunikida said that it would be a nice gesture, a way to show goodwill, and I thought it would look—”

“No, not because of the clothes,” you interject. Is he messing with you right now?

“So it was because of me.”

You cock your head. Your mind is on overdrive trying to work out his motive for being here—for bringing up all these strange, irrelevant things. “If you knew that, why come here at all?”

He smiles sadly. “Wishful thinking on my part. I thought…” He hesitates, clearly unsure if he should voice his feelings out loud. He tries anyway, “Well, let’s just say it is a treacherous thing to be stuck in a past that no longer exists. I was feeling… nostalgic. It will not happen again.”

A small lump forms in your throat at the finality in his tone. You swallow it down and make a noise of agreement. “A wise decision.”

You expect him to leave, but Dazai lingers at the doorway. This entire time he has been nothing more than a foot away from you, yet the distance between you continues to grow into an insurmountable gap. You wonder how you ever loved him; how you ever looked at him and felt something other than heartache and hostility. Those memories feel like a mere figment of your imagination nowadays. Perhaps they are.

After a moment of silence, he says: “It was never my intention to hurt you, you must believe me on that.”

Your knuckles turn white from how hard you clench the doorknob. It takes all your willpower and patience not to put a blade through his head, right then and there.

Not his intention to hurt you? Believe him? Such pretty words undeserving of being spoken by such an ugly liar.

“It's a shame I am not the naive little kid that you used to know. Because if I was…” You lean into him, until your mouth is right next to his ear.

Dazai stills.

“I might actually believe you,” you hiss.

You pull back and ignore his stricken expression.

Dazai shakes the shock away and nods. He takes a step back, understanding his cue to leave. He turns and takes a few steps before stopping and looking back at you.

“Good night, Y/N,” he softly whispers.

You shut the door without another word.

#Dazai Osamu #dazai x reader #dazai #dazai angst #dazai fanfic #dazai fic #kunikida #dazai x y/n #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd fic #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs fic #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #chuuya

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bylerspookie · 8 months

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something something about Mike leaving Hawkins and Will having an internal conflict on whether he should stay or go

(I uses colors to show which lyrics relate to eachother, except for like, at the end the colors kind of mix up, I ran out of colours, anyway you'll figure it out)

Smalltown Boy: (associated with Mike)

run away, turn away

alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face

mother will never understand why you had to leave

but the answers you seek will never be found at home

the love that you need will never be found at home

pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy (we know that Mike is bullied, and it's hinted that Mike is depressed and lonely, most of the time in his basement)

but you never cried to them, just to your soul

cry boy, cry

Should I Stay or Should I Go: (associated with Will)

darling, you got to let me know

should I stay or should I go? (notice how Mike's song is about leaving, whilst Will's is a question, "should I leave too?")

if you say that you are mine

I'll be here 'till the end of time (when Labyrinth gate and 20 gate meet @connect-dots7 )

It's always tease, tease, tease (MHMMMMM)

you're happy when I'm on my knees

this indecision's bugging me (esta indecisión me molesta)

if you don't want me, set me free (si no me quieres, librarme)

Always Something There To Remind Me: (associated with Mike)

I was born to love you, and I will never be free (there's too much for this to just be a coincidence guys)

California Dreamin': (associated with Mike and Will)

I'd be safe and warm (I'd be safe and warm)

if I was in L.A. (if I was in L.A.)

stopped into a church

I passed along the way

well, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees) (I'M GIGGLING RN BECAUSE THEY SO OBVIOUSLY DID THIS ON PURPOSE)

and I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray) (Mike always weirdly being associated with religion mhmmm)

you know the preacher likes the cold (preacher like the cold) (woah there now)

he knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay) (OH MY GOD)

Heroes: (associated with Mike and Will)

'cause we're lovers, and that is a fact (lovers lake lovers lake lovers lake lovers lake)

yes we 're lovers, and that is that

we could steal time just for one day (STEAL TIME??? 20 GATE/LABYRINTH GATE - MIKE WHEELER YOU ARE NEVER GONNA BEAT THE TIME ALLEGATIONS)

I, I wish you could swim (lovers lake lovers lake lovers lake lovers lake)

like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim

I, I can remember (I remember)

standing, by the wall (by the wall)

and the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) (the guns = electricity I don't make the rules, Alexa play "Are 'Friends' Electric?" from Mike Wheeler's Basement Beats)

and we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)

and the shame, was on the other side (the upside down and the real world is mentioned as "the other side" in the show all the time, maybe they kiss in the upside down with everyone else on the other side, therefore the shame would be on the other side? idk)

maybe we're lying, then you better not stay (LITERALLY SCREAMING)

When It's Cold I'd Like To Die:

where were you when I was lonesome? (THIS IS SO MIKE GUYS, "always a lonely boy")

locked away with freezing cold (HELLO)

I don't wanna swim the ocean (lovers lake lovers lake lovers- okay I'll stop)

I don't wanna fight the tide

I don't wanna swim forever

when it's cold I'd like to die

I don't wanna swim forever

I don't wanna fight the tide

I don't wanna swim the ocean

when it's cold I'd like to die

Are 'Friends' Electric? : (associated with Mike)

It's cold outside (I'm tired guys there's actually too much, I think I might stop here because literally every song connects I swear)

so now I'm alone (Mike, how lonely are you? No, seriously, is he okay? {He isn't} Even in "Tarzan Boy" it says "on my own like Tarzan boy" something isn't right here)

now I can think for myself

and things that I just don't understand

like a white lie that night (a white lie that night? maybe it's referring to the monologue when he says "I love you", I don't think so, that's a very big lie lol. I think this is referring to the "El commissioned the painting" from Will. Mike definitely knows that something is up, especially with his facial expressions in that scene, I've already made a post about this)

or a sly touch at times

I don't think it meant anything to you

so I open the door (there is too much references to "opening doors" with Mike, I'm not even joking, if I talk about it now this post will be too long)

It's the 'friend' that I'd left in the hallway

so I found out your reason for the phone calls and smiles

and it hurts and I'm lonely (MIKE???)

and I should never have tried

and I missed you tonight

So it's time to leave (smalltown boy theory is bound to happen guys what)

You see it meant everything to me

Open the Door:

come on with a gun

come on with a heart attack (YOU'RE THE HEART)

come on suicide

yeah, just like you a trap

save a blue face for me (let me remind you, "alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face")

turn around and take it off

save a new place for me

yeah, just where the flowers drop (we literally see a hill full of flowers in the last episode where Mike probably handpicked his flowers and the flowers literally drop representing milevens drop)

love that was new to you

you open up the door

I fall in love with these

I crawl out on the floor (CRAWL???? CRAWLLLLL????? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN GUYS WHAT DOES THIS MEAN HELLO SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE I'M GONNA SOB)

here's all the colors together so you can see the similarities better:

Staying/Going:

run away, turn away (smalltown boy)

Should I stay or should I go? (Should I Stay or Should I Go?)

He knows I'm gonna stay (California Dreamin')

Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay (Heroes)

So it's time to leave (Are 'Friends' Electric?)

(Bonus) You won't miss home (Tarzan Boy)

Lyrics about being alone/being bullied:

alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face (Smalltown Boy)

pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy (Smalltown Boy)

It's always tease, tease, tease (Should I Stay or Should I Go?)

where were you when I was lonesome? (When It's Cold I'd Like To Die)

so now I'm alone (Are 'Friends' Electric?)

(Bonus) On my own, like Tarzan boy (Tarzan Boy)

and it hurts and I'm lonely (Are 'Friends' Electric?)

Save a blue face for me (Open the Door)

Lyrics referring to time:

I'll be here 'till the end of time (Should I Stay or Should I Go?)

we could steal time just for one day (Heroes)

I don't wanna swim forever (When It's Cold I'd Like To Die)

(Bonus) Just a little more time is all we're asking for (Never Surrender)

Knees (??) (more religious imagry?? idk)

you're happy when I'm on my knees (Should I Stay or Should I Go?)

well, I got down on my knees (California Dreamin')

Freedom:

if you don't want me, set me free (Should I Stay or Should I Go?)

I was born to love you, and I will never be free (Always Something There To Remind Me)

Cold/Water:

I'd be safe and warm (California Dreamin')

you know the preacher likes the cold (California Dreamin')

I, I wish you could swim (Heroes)

like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim (Heroes)

locked away with freezing cold (When It's Cold I'd Like To Die)

I don't wanna swim the ocean (When It's Cold I'd Like To Die)

I don't wanna fight the tide (When It's Cold I'd Like To Die)

When It's Cold I'd Like To Die (When It's Cold I'd Like To Die)

It's cold outside (Are 'Friends' Electric)

(Bonus) And when the night is cold and dark (Never Surrender)

Opening doors (only two songs that I can think of, but a lot of imagry with Mike and doors in the actual series):

so I open the door (Are 'Friends' Electric)

you open up the door (Open the Door)

(interesting, because "Open the Door" plays during a scene that is about Will and his future romantic arc - "I'm not gonna fall in love." The song associated with Will says "YOU open up the door" and the song associated with Mike says "I open the door)

#music analysis 🎶#byler #byler analysis #byler theory #stranger things analysis #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler is real #byler is canon #byler is endgame #byler nation #mike wheeler is gay #smalltown boy conspiracy

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lunarmoonanons · 1 year

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Fire and Salt chp 3

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN just wants her family together for her nameday. She was sure if everyone had reunited then the foreboding feeling in her stomach would end.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN skipped around the castle trying to find her father. She knew he would and could never deny her, so with hope she planned her request for her nameday. Her quest for her father left her unaware of the stares from the people who watched her run. YN’s efforts were rewarded when she saw the familiar head of her father.

“Papa!” YN hugged him from behind, causing Laenor to smile slightly and turn to pat her head.

“YN. Are you alright darling?” He sounded slightly sad to the girl.

“I think I know what I really want for my nameday.” YN said, holding his hand as they walked to his rooms.

“Oh? And what is that my darling girl?”

“I want Rhaena and Baela to come here to Westeros. I want to spend the day with them.” Her request made her father pause and kneel down to her height.

“YN. It’s not so easy to just bring them here. There’s a reason that they are in Pentos and don’t stay in Westeros.” Laenor sighed, trying to reason with his daughter.

“But that's all I want. Please papa. Please talk to the king and ask him to allow them to come for only a fortnight.” YN pleaded. “I just want to play with my cousins and see them face to face again. I want to show them around dragonstone, and maybe high tide.”

“Why don’t we both travel to Pentos instead? Like on your 7th name day hm? Wouldn’t you like to see the Essosi countries again?” Laenor tried to bargain with his daughter, but he was only met with a pout.

“Please papa, please find a way to bring them here.” Her eyes begged him.

The man sighed, kissing the top of her forehead and standing to his height. “I will see what can be done. But if it's not possible to bring them here, then will you consider the option of going to them?”

“I will, but I;m going to pray to any and every god I know of to make them come here.” YN relented and they continued onward.

Laenor hoped his daughter would wish to go to Pentos. Essos was closer to the StepStones, and closer to the war brewing. He hoped to fight again and though Rhaenyra commanded him to stay with her, if YN was to go to Pentos with him he may be able to answer the call to battle. And his daughter may see the seas at battle.

“When we arrive at Dragonstone, I will write the necessary papers and show them being sent off for you.” He said, sitting in the nearest chair.

“Papa. May I write Aemond when will live at Dragonstone? He doesn’t have many friends and he might get lonely without me here.” The girl asked, smiling when he nodded his head absentmindedly.

With that she ran out of the room to find her uncle and tell him her goodbyes. Once again, she found him in her favorite spot, the wall overlooking the water. His silver hair covering his sullen looking face as the sounds of the waves did nothing to soothe him.

“Aemond!” YN shouted and ran to his side.

“I hear you and your family are leaving for Dragonstone.” He pouted not looking at her. “It was the fight that caused it wasn’t it? If we hadn’t caused it, maybe you’d stay and I wouldn’t be losing my only friend here.”

“I don’t know if that’s what caused it. Maybe it’s a bunch of things that the adults don’t want to tell us.” YN tried to assure him, standing next to him to watch the waves. “But, my father said I am allowed to write to you. So we’ll exchange letters as much as we can, updating each other on our lives. You’ll tell me when you claim a dragon, won’t you? And I’ll tell you when I’ve either claimed a dragon or a ship.”

“When I’ve gotten my dragon YN, I'll fly to Dragonstone and present them myself.” Aemond promised, both locking pinkies to solidify their vows to each other.

With a tight hug, YN left the boy staring after her when she made her way to her mother’s room. As got closer, she had found Ser Harwin as he had finished preparing to leave for Harrenhall. She was not there when he said his goodbyes to her mother and brothers, believing they deserved a moment together. But now she didn;t want him to leave without her own farwell.

“Ser Harwin!” YN ran forward.

“Little princess?” The man asked, taken aback when she wrapped her arms around his frame in a tight hug. Her eyes pricked with tears.

“I’m going to miss you. I know you were closer with my brothers, but I will always see you as a friend and protector. I don;t want you to go.” the girl said, battling her own tears.

“We will meet again one day, princess. When you are strong and tall. You and your brothers are very dear to me, and I am sad I will not be there to see you become a fine woman.” He tried to calm her. The girl may not have been his child, but she was a kind person and he was just as close in his mind to her as he was to her brothers. “Now buck up. Be strong. You are strong.”

“If we never see each other again, I promise I’ll never forget you.” YN hiccuped. He gave her a final hug and pulled away.

“We’ll see each other one day, princess. When you’ve amassed a whole army of ships under your command.” He smiled and went to his horse.

It felt like a member of her family was dying or being exiled. The pain cut into YN’s heart and left an empty feeling in her stomach as tears ran down her light brown cheeks. Her plump lips tried to stop quivering as she went back to her mother’s rooms. She knew that if she had Rhaena and Baela and their mother here it would feel like her family was cracking. Soon they’d all be together and happy again. But the gnawing feeling in her stomach would not end. Not even as they made it to Dragonstone.

Eventually the feeling took hold of her emotions again as two ominous ravens delivered letters to her parents. Death seals on both. Her stomach ached at the news. She would not see Ser Harwin again. And her cousins were coming to Westeros, but they were bringing a corpse with them.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #ser harwin #laenor valeryon #velaryon reader #poc reader #woc reader #angst #cure you hotd for killing harwin #YN loves her family #targaryen reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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themculibrary · 3 months

Text

Gamora Masterlist

Certainty of Tides (ao3) - MyresLight T, 3k

Summary: At every opportunity, Thanos pairs Nebula with Gamora.

Be it for competition, training, or war, the sisters are disciplined and appraised as a matching item.

They are two halves of a whole. A weary, broken machine.

A look at Nebula growing up under Thanos, and her relationship with Gamora.

Dialling Tones (ao3) - Run_Ravager_Run T, 11k

Summary: Gamora is making calls in the middle of the night, Rocket is building dangerous contraptions at the breakfast table, Drax is a terrible cook, and Peter suspects his newfound family is rupturing at the seams.

Eventually (ao3) - sanctuary_for_all gamora/peter T, 14k

Summary: Peter loves having a crew. It's just ... well, he didn't realize how much of a cramp it would put in his social life.

Of course, it might be his sudden obsession with Gamora's social life that's the real problem.

everybody wants to rule the world (ao3) - bevioletskies gamora/peter T, 109k

Summary: Peter is the one and only heir to the Celestial throne. Gamora is expected to successfully lead the Titans to conquer the galaxy. A political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

Alternately: Peter and Gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

Gamora, You're a Fine Girl (ao3) - Meraki_fics gamora/peter G, 4k

Summary: Gamora has never been good at emotions, being raised by a genocidal maniac does that to a person. Emotions are a weakness, at least that's how Thanos raised his borrowed children. Emotions were not something she ever spent time on or paid any attention to. However, in her new home with her new family, emotions were something to be aware of.

half a yellow sun (ao3) - philthestone gamora/peter T, 2k

Summary: “Do you come here often?” asks Gamora, tilting her head.

“No,” says the girl. “I’m just here waiting for my dumb friend Peter.”

The birds coo.

“Would you believe me,” says Gamora, “if I told you that I, too, am here waiting for my dumb friend Peter.”

The girl considers this, and then nods, as though dealing with a dumb friend named Peter on the daily is something to respect in another person.

Happiness Goes On (ao3) - Wawa_Girl gamora/peter T, 25k

Summary: "What does it mean? The day the music died?"

The words were said without the inquisitor looking at the human beside her, owner and expert of the tunes they were sharing.

"I guess..." Peter spoke up, his tone distant. Faraway. Lost. Gamora realized she would have given nearly anything to obtain Mantis' powers and know what he was feeling, what was going on in his head. "It means when people stop...appreciating it. Or learning from it? Or...use music to do...bad things."

i pray the lord my soul to keep (ao3) - quillsmora gamora/peter T, 6k

Summary: She had loved him before, even if she hadn’t known it then; maybe she was always supposed to love him. After all, given what they’d been through these past few weeks the concept of soulmates isn’t quite as ridiculous as Gamora once thought.

or: adam warlock offers gamora a solution, peter quill offers her a bed. she accepts both.

Last Chance to Forgive Ourselves (ao3) - GloriousBlackout gamora/peter T, 8k

Summary: When all is said and done, Peter and Gamora find each other again in the Soul Stone and try to come to terms with the cost of their mistakes.

Port Previously Unknown (ao3) - Hecate N/R, 3k

Summary: Gamora still remembered her parents. Nebula hated her for that.

sharper than a serpent's tooth (ao3) - juurensha gamora/peter T, 6k

Summary: Gamora always thought the hardest part would be getting away from Thanos. It turns out it may be learning to get along with the others.

The Body Keeps the Score (ao3) - EmiliaGryphon T, 61k

Summary: "You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

This Too Shall Last (ao3) - interabang T, 7k

Summary: Gamora through the years with each of her family members.

What if Gamora gave Thanos the Map to the Soul Stone? (ao3) - Jsnbrgmn T, 3k

Summary: Before making her fateful decision to betray Thanos and join the Guardians of the Galaxy, Gamora made a choice to burn the only map to the Soul Stone. It was the first move on a noble path that ends with her tragic death at the hands of a her adopted father. Half the universe soon followed.

However, the decision was not an easy one and the choices we make have a tendency to shape our convictions. Here we see what could have happened if Gamora's dilemma went the other way and softened her resolve to stop Thanos from his self-perceived destiny.

What's Left Unspoken (ao3) - GloriousBlackout gamora/peter T, 13k

Summary: Gamora's aware that Peter loves her. Though it scares her, she thinks she's starting to love him too.

The hard part is admitting it.

When Gamora was Sick (ao3) - sophies_burnt_bacon gamora/peter G, 2k

Summary: Gamora's sick but she's not too badly off. The Guardians have a mission and then things get really bad as Gamora manages to get injured.

Lucky Quill's there to help her.

you lay your bets and then you pay the price (ao3) - orphan_account gamora/peter T, 32k

Summary: (or: five times Peter idiotically risks his life for Gamora, and the one time he... can't)

Zuneology (ao3) - interabang gamora/peter T, 13k

Summary: After the war, Gamora listens to Peter's music player and reflects on her memories with him.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #gamora #gamora masterlist #starmora #guardians of the galaxy

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yermes · 9 months

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PAC: 🧸

I was abt to trauma dump all this unnecessary childhood information but it turns out I was just really sad and hungry. BUT because I love all my squishmellow sons, my dino nuggies and ketchup daughters, random obscure void creatures and everyone else I decided to abstain from that. HOWEVER! I am no stranger to toxic relationships and friendships and with how the occult/practitioner community is heres a reading on potential toxicity around you atm.

Pick a meme

Pick a card

Wheel of fortune 🎱

Lord of the Forces of Life, Caph, Palm, Ezekiel, Jupiter

Toxicity in fate and destiny. To me this is like being the only one in the group project that does anything. Feeling trapped in circumstances such as a sucky job or class. Theres always that “why don’t you quit” question when the answer Is “I can’t” either you NEED this for a degree or you have to put food on the table the strings of fate have woven kind of a tricky situation for you. THANKFULLY this card is upright which may indicate a turn of the tides in your favor.

Completion 🎡

Venus 3. In Aries, Chesed through Fire, four of wands

If this seems like the wrong card for the reading you are INCORRECT BABE. This card points to some form of toxicity in the physical which is needed for growth in the spiritual. As of NOW you seem to be going through it but god gives his silliest battles to his funniest clowns and you will learn a lesson which will broaden your spiritual horizon. This is showing that the toxicity going on as of now in the physical is needed to bring completion in the non-physical.

Five of wands (reversed) 🪄

Lord of Strife, Geburah, Saturn in Leo 1°–10°, Angels Vahaviah and Yelayel

Its seems like theres a lot of complex emotions with whatever the fuck is going on over there. Lust, desire, and trickery. Your friend group could be the Real Housewives of Weird ass occult discords. The Saturn with leo is straight up just a bad vibe. It seems to me that almost theres a severe power imbalance that someone is either abusing their power over you, or someone is jealous of your power and status within your group and is praying on your downfall. Wth.

Prince of wands 🎟️

21° Cancer to 20° Leo, Vau, Air aspect of fire Aziluth, Tiphareth

Learning without understanding does absolutely nothing. You may be making a toxic situation for yourself which in turn attracts toxic people. Misery does love company after all. You may be becoming destructive and the people around you are just fanning the flames. Its great you have all this energy for magic and this vest for life but you may want to start putting that into more productive ways so you can actually use instead of abusing what you can do. Not saying im anti-hex I love a good hex phase but not and the expense of who you are as a person. We are as above so below people I do agree you can recognize and celebrate primal fury without succumbing to it.

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aetherin21 · 1 year

Text

An Image of my last spring

Pairing: Getou Suguru x Reader

Genre: Angst with comfort, small fluff

Notes: Reader is a sorcerer turned office worker just like Nanami :) if I ever see mistakes here I'll change and fix it in my Ao3. This has been in my drafts for like 3 weeks I think and I just wanna post it now before I forget hahaha also this is inspired by Dr. Park's words of Suguru being Satoru's last spring of youth and the Promotional art of the Season 2 of JJK :)

5:35 PM

February 3, 2017

Shibuya Station

Soulless is the sound of steady tapping that echoes through the air while the floor gently vibrates to where I currently stood. Its constant rhythm encloses the area in its own little bubble, creating an ecosystem far beyond any person's reach.

At the corner of my eye, I could see the sight of rushing bodies reaching the depths of where I hid as I waited patiently for my train to arrive. Like a glorified aquarium, splashes of muddy white, blues, browns and black mixes in with the current school of people. It's not hard to miss their colorful forms as they slowly turn into a raging tide of their own. Their gradual awakening signals the beginning of the evening rush hour. And soon, without a doubt I'll be caught by that wave of meat.

With that thought, being unable to escape from its nauseating grip could make me kneel and pray to no one in particular. Dragging my vessel to its epicenter, fully engulfed by the unpleasant sensation of rubbing flesh and hot breath fanning through the tiny bumps of exposed skin; consumed by its awful flow. It's much easier to swallow the idea of being executed in a horrific fashion than to be judged by their so-called righteous mallet and scornful eyes. Forever condemned by its world court and abandoned with no other island besides my own. Is what I initially thought anyway.

"Maybe I should have done some overtime again…" I mumble to myself.

Deciding to Ignore the countdown of my impending doom, I exhaled the bitterness within me. Fiddling at the small screen I held. Distracting myself had become a ritual of mine, a sort of coping habit that developed through the decade that was so unkind. Letting myself submerge to another aether, not allowing a single thought or emotion leak through the cracks of my stone shell. Pumping the veins etched in me with calm adrenaline as if I am in a state of a passing nirvana.

Funnily enough, it reminds me of that film Rocky. Particularly that famous scene where the protagonist trained intensely while the song 'Eye Of The Tiger' plays in the background. Capturing the essence of his perseverance, strength and hardwork. Just like him, I'll be entering my own very montage except the loud music blasting through my ears will astral project my soul to another dimension as my body turns into a human sandwich. Very dramatic. I know but I would rather meet my end in style than to... Huh — Weird. That last line sounds awfully too familiar. Ringing unusual bells in the depths of my mind.

Did I used to say that? It feels out of character. Out of place. It's too cool and somewhat edgy for someone like me to say. Yet it tasted a little foreign and familiar at the same time. Scratching my chin in place of a brain, I could only conclude I might have gotten it from someone else. But where exactly?

Think, think, think…It can't be from my coworkers nor from my family. They're all too normal and boring to say something like that. I don't have many friends to begin with either so that’s out of the question.

With how tingly my tongue is, the answer seems to be at the edge already. Maybe it came from an action movie that I had watched before? It is rather cliche in format. If I repeat it, will it come out?

To meet my end in style. To meet my end in style. To meet my end in —

Chanting it like a spell, I summoned what lies beyond those lines. But all too quickly, the grinning image of a boy flashed before my eyes. Both falling and burning way too fast as it reached the ends of my fingertips. Only its ashes remain before I could even hold it in the palm of my hands.

The lighthouse that often watches over me, sensed my growing sorrow within. Casting a stream of yellows beyond the horizon, it guides my sight towards the answers I seek. I remember where that line came from.

Satoru, the annoying gigantic furby, used to play good cop and bad cop with another boy his size. Both of them were enamored by western films they constantly watch a lot. Sometimes they would often repeat every written dialogue like some new gag. Meticulously pushing every button they can to see what tickles our funny bones. It was annoying to deal with but also endearing nonetheless.

How could I forget something like that?

Looking at the station clock, its hands seemed to move painfully slow. Taking lifetimes to reach the five thirty-eight mark. On the other hand, the esteemed crowd from earlier had displaced themselves where they were supposed to be. Leaving me lost and jaded at a memory that had long since faded.

Truthfully, I no longer have the courage and strength to pick every bit and piece that used to be a part of me. I let it all wash away from the lonely shore and let it erase what used to be who I am. Yet from time to time, a photo would emerge and greet me as I stood in the infinite sands alone. Images of old crammy classrooms, buildings and statues mock me in silence as I had forgotten everything. Only to remind me once again of what I used to cherish and the foolish thinking of everything lasting forever. That and also the free rides the assigned windows give.

Now, it makes me wonder if it was ever like that to that estranged boy in those photographs? The commute, I mean. I am curious to know; Was he able to dodge the mangy currents of limbs easily? His height seems to suggest so. Towering so much at such a young age. It gives this sense that he was unreachable, untouchable and unattainable especially to someone like me. The aura he gives off as he perches above exudes mystery, intimidation and a strange selfish holiness. I imagine being that tall has a lot of privileges. To be able to see the world that no mortal could have. Or just easily avoid any unwanted circumstance if he wished to. It's unfair, really. Both him and Satoru.

But God does not play favorites. In some way or another, in any shape or form it will come for you. To balance the rules of this reality, judgment will strike at any possibility. Cutting down both the fair and the unfair, continuously hunting down anyone it deems to be worthy of such. From the station platform where I stood to the streets of Shibuya, the supermarkets from the residential district and any place it wishes; there was no way to hide from it. Just like the sea of meat that ogles its new victim. But I guess he already knew that. Right?

Ah, since we're on that topic. What kind of sandwich would everyone be anyway? I just think it's funny since I am going to be one in a few minutes. I think, for one, I am probably like those cheap konbini ones that sometimes dupe you with no filling. Leaving you disappointed as you take your first and last bite. Why that of all things? Guess I am too small to even fill up the space, too insignificant but still ends up getting squished by the bread.

Shoko would probably be like those freshly homemade ones. The type that rejuvenates the soul as they take a mouthful. The feeling of home that dawns on the crevice of their bones while gnawing on the crunchy lettuce and juicy tomatoes. And once the last bite takes place a sudden realization of life struck. They jolt back from their wake and once again walk to another reprieve. Ah, I miss her. I wonder if she still has that bad habit of smoking.

Satoru, on the other hand, would be those luxury ones that cost a fortune but leave you with a thought, 'That's it?' A wasteful value or some popular commodity that's hard to reach. Beautiful, intricate and praised all while the dreaded guilt binds the person in an awkward greed as they throw money away for just a simple taste. Sprinkle in gold and baby blue, they'll feel they mattered. Even though it's just a sandwich. Although, to carry such high prestige, one could only be proud for there is no replica that can copy such material. Thus becoming the greatest snack of all. I can't believe this guy is the same age as me.

But the question is, what about him? The dark haired boy that lingers behind the shadow of the one and only Gojo Satoru.

I suppose with his size and sense of morals, he would be one of those premium fast food chicken sandwiches. Where the bun can't hold him in place cause all the limbs will spill out from the sides along with its special sauce, creating such a goopy mess on your hands as you eat. But due to being the cheaper alternative than Satoru, hands are more eager to devour what it has to offer. Blinding and burning everyone who tasted his tender meat. Along with myself. Ha! It suits that boy, right? Right…

Giggling to myself, these silly little ideas brought genuine joy to my lips. The foreign warmth that spreads through my cheeks as my eyes form into crescent moons. I can't help but think, how long has it been?

Too busy investing in drawing crude pictures of human comparison to wheat delicacies, I had failed to notice the shadow of the looming casket over my very being. The cries of its brakes scratching at the conch of my ear ripped me from la la land all too suddenly. As if it was demanding my attention like a dog and their favorite toy. Except, instead of such an adorable view, it's replaced by a pristine, well kept wagon that regurgitates passengers from its belly. Of course, everyone around me had waited in anticipation for this moment. Too eager to leave this dreadful place and confine themselves in the better space of their home. Except for me.

With the same sentiment, I too readied myself as the last person left the metal doors. Lowering my gaze and refusing to meet any watchful eyes, I let my legs move in autopilot. After all, the thing that I have dreaded since the very beginning is coming to a climax. I could only pretend to be a criminal waiting for the noose and prostrating myself to an ever exaggerated ruin. But amidst such a forlorn play, a scent had caught my foot mid step.

Candies, cigarettes, incense, and sandalwood.

Such an odd combination painted the air like a wretched canvas and brought cold sweat onto my skin. The colors of red, blue, violet and yellow blurs around my vision while accompanied by a distinct joyous laughter, seemingly mocking me in my wake. The faint words of goodbyes and farewells also catches my attention as I suffer from gut retching nauseousness.

As if I knew whose voices they were.

I covered my face with my own two hands as a hint of bile threatened the edge of my throat. Knocking me into a hunching posture, heaving in sudden agony. The raunchy taste of sharp yet tangy acid covered my palette in a short amount of time that it had me in tears. It did not help that I could feel onlookers watch with both worry and annoyance at my blocking form towards their so-called freedom.

Forced to wave a feign OK, I unwillingly apologized for the mishap I had caused and stepped away momentarily from the line. Letting myself recuperate and expel the visceral sensation from my body with much cleaner air. Although, I can’t help a part of me be annoyed as well. Does this person not have etiquette at all?

Bugged by my consciousness, unable to let it go. I searched for the origin of such a revolting smell. Looking left to right not moving from my spot. Hoping to give a piece of my mind to their disturbing work of art. An artwork that for some reason I couldn't help but chase in strange yearning. But of course, with my luck, there was no one attached to its disembodied stench. The culprit had already fled the scene of the crime. Leaving me, the victim, vexed and perplexed.

But based on the contents of the stupid fragrance, that person probably had an ingenious idea to spray such a strong perfume to get rid of the cigarette and incense attached to their person. Still, regardless of reason, my head lingers in the direction to wherever it may have come from. Even foolishly imprinting it in my lungs like a masochist. After all, it's absurd for that boy to —

“Be here with you?”

April fools is still two months from now. I am not sure if I know anyone who celebrates such a childish event other than Satoru. I doubt he’ll come for me in advance either. Our relationship hasn't been the best in these god awful years. The last notable conversation we both had was around December.

Surely this is just a small bout of insanity. A figment of my wild imagination conjured from my exhaustion. After all, weeks of overtime can do wonders to the brain. It explains my sudden obsession with sandwich analogies and weird feelings of extreme melancholy. Or…Wait. Don’t tell me the strange smell came from a curse? Was I afflicted by it?

The more the people, the more negative emotions spill out. This platform is a perfect den to give birth to such abominable creatures. Especially with the amount of impoverished salarymen and women who often take this train, spilling their unwanted frustration and bitterness onto the floor tiles. That must be it.

Confronting the glass window of the train, I braced myself for the sudden encounter. Clutching my sling bag close, a small cursed tool can be found deep in its pockets. Carefully tucked away for emergencies just like this.

Thankfully, it's been drilled into my subconsciousness on procedures regarding random contacts: First, always confirm the target. Second, never forget to put a curtain. Third, exorcise it with caution. If worse comes to show, then there's the fourth option, run away and call for the real professionals. Whatever this creature is, even at my grade, I can handle it. Is what I believe.

Yet, it seems nothing can prepare me for the familiar silhouette staring back at me.

Slightly obscured by the reflection of sandwiched passengers, there he stood in his full glory. Hair tied up in a neat knot with only a few stubborn clumps falling above his eyes. Ears pierced by deep black gems that glimmer under the artificial lights. Soft lips, ever so curtly forming into a thin smile as his obsidian eyes contorted into a tender gaze. Seemingly admiring the reflection of the both of us finally beside each other. He didn’t change at all. Still the same as I remembered.

“It's been a while hasn’t it?”

Beep

I knew from the bottom of my heart that this isn’t an amalgamation of people’s negative emotions. As foolish as it sounds even with Ms. Tsukumo’s explanation about curses and sorcerers, I knew with one look this is mine. I am cursed and this is my haunted house. Because here you are with me. Alone. Together on this platform, purposely making me miss my train home.

“You never said goodbye.”

Humming a low playful tune, he linked his slender finger gently with the small of mine as the subtle wind blew over us. Just with that small gesture, the orchestra nestled within me didn’t know what sheet to read. Too confused about what to play in front of its single audience. So Instead, to appease the lone watcher, it chooses to perform all of it at once. Anger, joy, sadness and everything in between. What a laughable performance.

“I guess, I owe you an overdue apology.”

The drumstick hits the surface harder than it should, resonating through every crevice of my flesh with a loud bang. My head sharply turned to his direction, controlled by the awful strike. His nonchalant and unremorseful response baffled my consciousness. “Guess!? Am I a joke to you? Is that the only reason why you’re here? To give me pity?”

Ten years, that’s how long since I’ve last seen his face. And all he could do is mock me with his boyish smile while giggling at my sudden outburst. How cruel can he be?

Filled with distrust, my body flinched as I watched his hand delicately tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His eyes still filled with never ending adoration even as my body betrayed him. “So this is what you look like after ten years.” he said as he now traced my cheek, holding me in the palm of his hand as if time never separated us. "You haven't changed at all. Still very pretty."

I hate this. I hate the feeling of such soft bass melting my skin into nothing but putty. Smoothing the creases of my face as I plead for more. How even such a simple yet cliche string of words dulls my senses and becomes high just from its mere echoes. Furious, I wish I could be at this moment but furious I was not. “You're insufferable, you know that?”

Chasing foolishly his warmth, my head leaned into his touch. Too starved from his affection. All while the course of the symphony in my heart changes its tune to match the sudden drops of tears from my very own lashes. "And I hate you." I said to him bitterly.

Unfazed by those petty words, he only laughed again but this time more softly. “I know and you still love me for it.”

With a small step, the boy hovered his immense stature over me with ease. Casting a long shadow on my form as if it was a cage I can’t escape from. I already know what he’s about to do so I only stood patiently like a good girl, ready for him to consume.

“I miss you.” He prayed on my forehead. “I really miss you.” He whispered next, on top of my nose. “I really did.” He continued to edge at the corner of my lips, drinking my silent cries away. “And I still do now.” He said as he finally took my lips with his own.

There we mended and molded back to each other's heated embrace. Hands desperately closing the space till there was none as we spoke in a language we both knew how to communicate.

Ever so gentle that he is, his tongue asks for my permission as we move further than just a simple dance of mouth. The wet sensation that swipes at the entrance had me reeling through my core as I let him do as he pleases. Basking in the warmth of him, the boy smiled as he conquered me. He knew I was easily intoxicated, how easily I get addicted and he knew the power he has over me. A special privilege only he could have. A privilege of having me.

However I am not the only one. The way his hand desperately moves over from my front and on to my back, rubbing at whatever clothed flesh he can latch on too. Dying for more skinship. Even the way his breath hitch and moan vibrated through my being, I could tell he too is drunk from this public display of debauchery.

We were both hungry and that's the truth. But not in the sense of lust or desire but rather a deep yearning of forgiveness and loss of affection. Even our fervent moans turn to songs of devotion under the cathedral of us. My cries are the wine that cleanses his soul and his touch is the communion that renews my heart. Of course, such intensity always has an end. Too much and one could have drowned at the pits of insanity.

So the second our lungs sync in need of oxygen, we parted our ways. Yet both our eyes still linger where our lips were once connected. Shamelessly wanting more than just a kiss but too embarrassed to share another. Instead with a compromise, our foreheads remained pressed together in content.

“Wow, public indecency? Really? You’re better than this.” The boy scolded mischievously, voice dripping in sweet childish passion. Very romantic.

Rolling my eyes, I broke from the intimacy. Just to slap his shoulder in retaliation. Knowing full well what his sense of humor is like, I laughed at his stupidity. “You’re the one who started it!” But even so, my cheeks couldn’t help turn into cherries as we continued our banter just like old times.

“Ow! Now, you're hitting me? That’s assault!” He whined, deliberately rubbing the harsh contact for emphasis. “I don't remember you being this mean!” Even adding a sprinkle of a pout to top off his shenanigans. Not gonna lie, it was cute to look at. But I won't let myself be swayed by his charming looks. So with gritted teeth, I said whole heartedly in jest. “I wish I could hit you more, you dumbass!”

After hearing that the plastered smile on his face seemed to grow playfully. My words had lit a fire within him. Laying down the school bag he carried on the ground, he spread his arms and puffed his chest for me to see. Apprehensive by his actions, I took a small step back and waited for his next move. Unsure what his true motives are. “Alright. I’ll let you. If you kiss the wound after.” He said jokingly.

Ah, I forgot how horny teenagers were…

Exhaling between my palms, a part of me wished to scream in silent frustration but that would honor him a win in this childish endeavor. Rather turning the tides to my favor, what better way to do than just simply comply to his own whims.

Winding my arm as far back as I can, there I summoned all the strength this body could muster at the edge of my fists. Fair and square I punched him straight in the face. Landing a mark on his apples while his pair of peaches lay splat on the floor as a look of utter shock adorned his sharp features. Of course, never in a million years the boy would think I could pull such a punch. After all, that wasn’t my forte to begin with. Jokes on him though, that was me from before and not the me of now.

Before I could let him say a word, I crouched down to his level and left a tender kiss on his wound. Licking it for good measure. “Two could play that game.” I whispered, leaving a gentle blow to his now reddened ear.

Putting a small distance, I observed my precious win. His face all heated up like a boiling kettle. It was his turn to cover his face. Gaze unable to straighten, looking anywhere else but me. It's such a delicious sight seeing him come undone by just mere strength alone. “Wh– when did you learn how to hit like that?” Oh, was that a stutter?

A new sense of pride swells within as this is the first time I had an upper hand on him. Pursing my lips in feign innocence, I batted my lashes as cutely as I could. My head rested on the palm of my hand as a finger tapped in thought. “Who knows? It's been ten years since the last time we saw each other. A lot could happen.”

“That’s fair.” He sighed.

Rosy lips forming a thin line, he shuffled on the floor. Finding a more comfortable position sitting crisscrossed in front of me. Mimicking my earlier pose, his hand rested on his palm as well. Contemplating something within him as a tiny glint nestled its way to his marbles. Suddenly staring intensely at my figure, I blinked twice to decipher his actions. I presume it's another challenge? Or perhaps sulking under the weight of my victory?

Yet a minute has passed by and no signs of unusual movement can be seen. Only continuing his unwavering gaze at my form. Still, I won’t back down for the next fight. That is, until a loud horn and the sound of grinding wheels distract me from my spot.

The next train had rudely arrived and it announced itself proudly in front of us, lowering my guard completely. To the scheming boy, this was his perfect opportunity. It was natural after all, when one sees an opening one would attack mercilessly. And that’s what he did. Stealing a small peck from my lips and holding two peace signs in front of my face. My eyes could only dilate from his actions as the grin grew as large as the half moon. “Gotcha. I win!” he said proudly.

Too dumbfounded, I ended up bursting from laughter. Nodding my head I unanimously agreed to his victory and accepted my own defeat like a proper adult I am. “What do you want as a reward?” I asked, adoring his boyish facade that seemed to light up from something so trivial. “I’ve been giving a lot of kisses lately, I think it lost its value.”

Humming in thought, the boy turned his head towards the train. Inspecting the unusual empty shell as if searching his deep darkest desire in its exterior. The bangs that covered his eyes gently sway from his movements as the glowing light from the fluorescent light cascades his porcelain skin. Framing his youth in a portrait that won't last. “Tell me a story then.” He said, looking back at me with the answer he had found. My palms could only turn to puddles as I anticipated his next words, a strange nervousness washed over me.

“I want to hear everything that happened to you when we were apart.”

“Okay.”

Is what I said as his hands now intertwined with mine while we sat properly on the platform bench. Our surroundings have long been abandoned ever since I missed my last train. I am not sure how many more passed by but there was no next wave of crowd that came from the entrance and exits. The whole area felt like it was our own little domain. Our own little ecosystem.

“Where do you want me to start?” I asked timidly. Knowing where all this was going. I am not a fool. It had already gnawed at the back of my head since the scent of his wafted through the air.

“How about when you left the technical school?” he asked curiously.

“Alright.” I said.

The moment I opened my mouth, stories flowed into the space we occupied. Transforming the scenery into a dream-like state found in one of those shoujo mangas. Blabbering this and that, and that and this. The text bubbles were empty yet its meaningful conversations reside in its containers for only our ears to hear. As pages turned to the next, our expressions filled each panel with comical laughter, shock, anger and tears. Together we both laid each other bare as our bodies mimed the years of what could have been.

A part of me wishes this moment could last forever. But I knew that was impossible. God never plays favorites. All I could do is make the most of what was given. Savoring the comfort that is him. An image of my last spring.

So I paused my words mid sentence, my body moved closer to his. This time it's my turn to trap him in my own little cage. Kissing his lips with the same intensity as the scorching sun. Biting, marking and clawing my way through a never ending longing, wishing more than I should. As words that are never spoken but only lingering between us leaves my mouth, I pray to his exposed skin: cheeks, ears, neck, wrist and palms all my shameless I love yous.

With the wit of a hawk and sight of an owl, The boy had already noticed my silent fears dressed in growing affection. Manifesting them into words, he could only ask softly. “Tell me. Why won’t you say my name?”

Frozen in place, I searched through his eyes what he had just said. As it sinks in, my brows furrowed, hoping for him to not inquire further. Yet what reflected back was his own silent plea. You are so cruel, you know that.

“I know.” he leaned in to whisper while his sharp nose nestled under my jaw. Always the mind reader this guy. “But I want to hear it from your lips.”

With such a request, I bowed my head in utter humiliation. Unable to look him in the eye. My lips quiver as I silently confess my sins to him. “If I say it, I feel like you’re gonna disappear again.”

A faint touch raised my head to meet with him once more. The quiet desperation and the childish eagerness from earlier had disappeared. This time our kiss felt much slower and much sweeter. “Please look at me.” He begged.

Yet I still refuse.

As the stubborn man that he is, he continued haunting my lips. Tender touches became pleading ghosts and the blowing air cursed my trembling. “I need to hear it.”

I could only peek from my lashes while my mouth shivers from the eerie peck that landed ever so lightly. Constantly being tempted like this just to adhere to his whims, I couldn’t help counting each one as he tried to make me submit.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

And at the seventh kiss, he deepened it.

My mind instantly went blank with the constant edging and the sudden ferocity of the kiss. All sense of control washes away, unable to restrain myself any further. I moaned his name in finality. The twist, the turn and the tap of each syllable at the chambers of my mouth felt freeing. I couldn’t hold back the tears that ran through my skin. Bawling like a lost child in front him. But he only embraced me in his arms, gently rocking us back and forth as I repeatedly called him over and over again.

“Suguru. Suguru. Suguru.”

“I am still here.” he said, breaking the evil spell that tormented me for such a long time. Catching all the photographs scattered in the ocean. One by one giving them back to me. It hurts. It hurts so much.

“Why did you leave me?”

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“Why only Shoko and Satoru? Why not me?”

“Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Questions after questions flowed, aching for answers that I already knew but I wish I could hear from his own lips too. Punching him over and over his chest, I can’t seem to hate him. All I can do is accept what he has given. You’re so selfish. So unfair.

Grabbing the next hit, he forced me to look him in the eye. The image that greeted me isn't the boy I once knew. Replaced by a man sculpted in righteous reverie, cloth cut from the edges of apathy. This man’s eyes are filled with never ending desires that seem to want to drown me in it. A strange thirst and hunger different from a beast, that no flesh and water can calm its currents.

This is a Suguru who I don’t know of. The Suguru I feared the most. The Suguru that I wish would turn back as I reached to him in my youth. But nonetheless the Suguru who I still ache for.

“I didn’t regret it. Only you.” he desperately professed as his fingers twitched at my skin. Seemingly wishing to touch more with the him of now and not the one from yesteryears. “I love you.” he said as he smiled from the bottom of his heart. “I still do and will continue to do so.”

“Suguru.” Was all I could say. Not knowing what else to confess.

I had been afraid to see the twenty-seven year old Geto Suguru till now. Too scared to confront the feelings that scattered on the lonely shore. Too scared that I would fall together with him too. I am too scared that my love is so deep that it will swallow everything in its path. But you’ve always known that, right? Of course you do. Cause you feel the same way too.

Rubbing my eyes, tears still continued to fall. My snot also boldly joined along my skin. Mixing in with the currents under my lashes. It's so embarrassing to cry like this in front of Suguru but I can’t help it. Everything is too overwhelming and all I want is to be pampered in his loving arms. “Once again, you’re so insufferable and I love you so much.”

Caressing my cheeks, he wiped my tears gently with his sleeves, even roughly getting rid of the sticky mucus that spilled out. He teased my whining. “You’ve only realized it now? You’re such a slow poke.”

Ten years ago, he knew I would follow him to the ends of the earth. He knew we’ll both crash and burn. He knew it will be till death do us part. “But I didn’t want that to happen.” He said. “That would be too cruel even for me.”

“You already are cruel, stupid.” Still sniffing away the sobs, I couldn’t help but retaliate the way I know how.

“Oh? Says the girl, who’ll literally die for me.”

“Says the guy who already did, Dumbass.”

Mouth forming into a thin line, Suguru sighed in defeat. “Touché.”

Giggling childishly, even at that age he’s still the Suguru I love. The way his handsome face stayed the same, only this time more mature. His same old earrings are still there hanging tightly too and so are his stubborn bangs. Even when clothed in those sacred robes, it's undeniable that he’s still him. “My tall and very adorable dumbass.”

“Your tall and very adorable dumbass.” He lovingly repeated back.

Really, this is such a mess of a reunion. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Beep

Jolting back from my seat, I woke up from the sound of train doors signaling its final call for passengers. Hurriedly, my body moved towards it. Hoping to finally leave this place. The smell of sandalwood that once surrounded me fades gently through the air along with the cold harsh winter. In the next month spring will come and the Sakura trees will finally bloom.

You really did meet your end in style. Fading like the last snow of winter.

Farewell my beloved Suguru, I love you and happy birthday.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #getou x you #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #geto suguru #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk angst #I love my baby girl so much that I write fics for him for the nth time #I should be writing a band au for Choso or F1 au for the whole jjk but urghhh #baby girl ur too much :(((

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heartofspells · 18 days

Note

So I saw this on a different blog, but give me Kensington lyrics for the Marauders and their friends

Ah, Britt. You can't just send me something like this out of nowhere. You know what this stuff does to my brain. But I'm starting this off by saying I have no idea how many characters I'll actually do.

And I'm continuing it nearly two days later by saying that I've spent hours thinking about this. I've studied. You've thrown me back into my Kensington phase (they really are amazing, just saying. if you've never listened to them, i highly recommend). I've made lists. Charts! No, not charts, mostly because I don't have the patience for that, but I did make lists. Extensively. I did my due diligence, my nefarious and sly friend.

And because I took this very seriously, I approached it from a canon standpoint only, and I tried extremely hard to leave ships out of it. (see how well that worked, huh)

Marauders

I found two definite choices for the whole lot of them together. Fiji and Perfect Family Day

Not all we're building up is indestructible But all we're hoping for We'll know how to get it though We'll know how... To get in a constant phase Of digging a heart-shaped grave for ourselves

And

Every night's the same God has left this place Left us on his way out

Cover up these stains Keeping up appearances Jaded smiles remain Watching fate take place We're sulking and we're stumbling through Grey and spiteful days

I could honestly quote the entire song, really

James

James is also Fiji, just different pieces of it. I think this song is a good way to look at how he viewed his friends and the people closest to him during the war.

A hell of a case you'd make If only the tides weren't so strong You're letting it in, all you're darkest ways

Waste it all away Inside of a king-sized cage Enough of the comforts of home But none of it all takes the bars away

Peter

Peter is Bridges, What Lies Ahead (but that one is more because it kind of amuses me), and Island

Yet another ungraceful evening Another man's faith An easy foe And we're off to shiver In the face of the unknown

Yet another ungrateful weekday We're caught in a game Where the winner takes all And we're off to tell it As the greatest story told

Though we long together For the tables to turn Though we pray together For the bridges to burn Still we stay cold

We got carried away by it We got carried away from home

And

And all I do Is getting lost in the past To find where I'd first hear I was never gonna be somebody That I was never gonna feel light come around

And

I don't want to blame I just want to leave this horrid place the way I came But here we are again I don't want to wait For another wave to come and rule another day

I don't want to stay I just want to wash away this vile and awful taste But here are again Got nothing more to say Only want to leave it an not seek for it again

And I'll be an island And the shore where I stand Can't be reached by more than waves I told my sharks That I need an island For I know the violence And I'll make the same mistakes again

Remus

Our Moony is Storms and What Lies Ahead. And they're both just...so very sad to me.

I don't want to be alarmed I don't want to know what's coming I don't want to lie here Waiting for my end If I knew how to fight it I would never go never go dark I will never be a storm again But if it's easier now then I'll pretend

And (this one is so very second war to me. and it could reflect on the war itself and the wizarding world...or Dumbledore...or Sirius)

And they rise again as I am told that I should see Red now And to fear what lies ahead now But I know that I will Do everything for you again I will do everything for you again And I bet now You will see that I will burn what I don't need here

Lily

I only found one for Lily (though if i'd wanted to focus on the whole Snape aspect, i could have chosen so many more), but her song is Uncharted. I feel like it's an accurate way of how she would have viewed all the loss during the war.

No one knows what part to play It's like the we're in uncharted territory No one knows another way It's like all grace in life has parted from me And all sensible words All sensible souls Oh, where do they go? And why do they leave us now? And if I could go back again, I'll go back again If the worst is happening, how does anything work? Now let me please go back again, I'll go back again

Sirius

Obviously, I found soooo many for Sirius. So very many that I had to tame it down and really narrow my options. Who's surprised? You shouldn't be.

Sirius is Storms just as much (probably more) as Remus is.

Don't want to be alone But genuine lives won't appear On the horizon Oh, what a long wait If there's no way to find it Will I ever calm ever calm down? I will never be a storm again But if it's easier now then I'll pretend To leave it all

He's System. He is the entire song.

And all I am trying to gain I'll seed it then forget how to reap now So I'll deny it again How your wrong is my right How your luck is my doubt But no, don't ever leave me out

Sirius is Insane.

Scenes of distress They follow me around 'til I lose again and by then (You might be calm but my head will explode) I'm out of moves here I swallow it down like a poison undefined That enters my veins like a thread that I can't shake

'Til I cave It's not the words, not the fear or the doubt Not the lack of heart that takes me out It's the knowing that you can't relate when you're insane It's not the pain, not the bruise or the scars It's the knowing that you can't relate when you're insane

I know I wait too long Before I will break a bond I know my body froze My greatest loss

He is No Me, and while this song has a very obvious meaning, at least to me, I think so many parts of it apply perfectly to Sirius.

See the fading of the past The unwinding of the thread It was all above me Right above my head Now it's pouring on me It's dawning on me That everything that's golden Is buried deep in ground eroded Now start digging there where all the lines meet

Regulus

Ooooh. Regulus is Slicer, no question about it.

What are you aiming for? I will never be the one to call When your heart is in need The coward in me Will be all that you face Why do you say no more? Was the heaven I sold you on Just a trifling daze? A glorious cage? And it was in vain?

Then how do we get Stone cold, red hot and And now we're on like a thunder Soon all ends go dead Then how will we get away?

I was going to do more individual characters, but this is hard and I ran out of steam. But obviously I couldn't resist throwing some relationships/pairings into it (platonic or romantic, however you choose to look at it). I'm not going to list any lyrics for these because I'm starting to go cross-eyed, but feel free to take a listen to the songs!

Black brothers

These two...oh, these two. They have my heart, they really do. The whole of the Marauders clump is so very tragic from a canon standpoint, but these brothers stab me in the chest every time I think about them.

Regret, Sorry, and Rivals really hits home for them in certain areas of those songs.

Sirius + Remus

This first one mostly comes from a second war viewpoint for me, after they reunite, after the truth is out, while the second is just a general good song for all they've lost.

St. Helena and Uncharted

James + Sirius

I just can't help myself. And it's possible that the first song is more romantic than platonic. Actually maybe more than little unrequited one-sided love sort of thing. The second just sums them up for me, all that they did for each, all that they were willing to do for each other.

Riddles and Ten Times the Weight

#post in the toast #kensington #kensington for the marauders (and co)#britt tag

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antis0cial23 · 1 month

Text

The Pride of the Navy

Prologue

Summary: Graduation is right around the corner, and so are new assignments...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

NOT PROOF READ

A breeze was constant on the California shores. Soft and salty, changing with the tides. Just enough to give the evenings a chill that the breeze filled days lacked. The sweltering sun dulling its fire, slipping further under the horizon. Hues of fiery orange and soothing yellows, mixing with soft pinks colored the atmosphere. Sunsets on North Island were always colorful. North Island. The home of the famous ‘Top Gun’ pilot school. Only the best of the best graced such a place with their presence. Miramar legend in the Navy. Pilots only ever went once, if they even had the chance, that is.

Good fliers with headstrong attitudes, confidence present in their maneuvers. But there is always room to learn, to improve, even though it might not seem like some aviator’s egos could truly get any bigger. Now, some of her fellow fliers that joined her at Top Gun voiced their confidence and self-proclaimed importance, but not Quinlan. Actions speak louder than words after all.

“Cas! Get your ass over here!” A familiar voice of a fellow female pilot called Quinlan from her thoughts. The sun just below the line of the ocean, marking the end of her solitude. For better or worse, she didn’t know. Quin moved from her spot on the sand, not hurrying in the slightest over to her friend.

“Why must you interrupt my solitude so, Phoenix.” Quinlan sighed, stepping in tune with Natasha back to the steps of ‘The Hard Deck’. Alone time was always a necessity for an introvert, now add a major event soon to occur to the mix, and you’ve got yourself a hermit with the anxiety like that of any small dog breed.

“Because, my dear Casper. You are not allowed to go ghost mode on the last day we have to party before graduation. At Top Gun no less.” Phoenix laughed at her pun ‘ghost mode’, making Quin roll her eyes with a small smile. Before her third year of The National Flight Academy, her chosen callsign was ‘Sunset’, but everyone knows most callsigns aren’t chosen, they’re given. Mostly by fellow aviators, that is. Quinlan’s quiet demeanor and habit to ‘sneak’ in with no one noticing earned her the nickname ‘Casper’, like Casper the friendly ghost. Maybe friendly wasn’t the right descriptor for Quin, but the name Casper sure fit. And within a few months, it became her callsign.

Quietly, she followed Phoenix back into the bar, the rest of the soon to be graduates surrounding the pool table and dart boards. She settled in around the pool table, watching a few take shots. Vex, Phoenix’s WSO, lined up for a shot, Quin lightly smirked. Vex pulled back on the pool stick, about to shoot.

“Try aiming a lil more left.” Quinlan said, standing right behind Vex. Startled, to say the least, Vex skimmed the side of the white que ball, signifying his turn was spent.

“Jesus Christ Casper! You need a fucking bell...” Vex groaned, annoyed his shot was screwed. Rooster laughed at his poor attempt of a shot, winking at Quin, while she just smiled, eyes filled with mock innocence.

“That actually isn’t a terrible idea.” Phoenix loudly input, smiling from the side, a mischievous glint from her brown eyes. Quinlan raised a brow, internally praying she was joking.

“Y’all know it isn’t my fault for your lack of observation skills. A wonder you can all fly.” Quin’s lips curved into a satisfied small grin, ending her contribution to the larger conversation. Phoenix wormed her way through the group over to Quinlan, her smile never leaving, the setting of the bar fueling Natasha’s joy. Places like these were her cup of tea, not Quin’s.

“I’m totally buying you a bell necklace.” Phoenix whispered over to Quin, her tone playfully serious.

“And I will wholeheartedly cherish it.” She joked back, voice jovial. But that’s not where the depths of her mind resided. Quin couldn’t help to think what assignments her and Nat would be placed on after their graduation. Top Gun graduates got top picks, but within reason. She just hoped, maybe with more belief than she should have, that she and Phoenix would depart the same way they arrived, together. Same went for her and Rooster. Luck getting stationed with one friend was low. Make that two? No chance. Continuing watching the close game of pool, she watched Rooster sneak over to the jukebox, unplugging the machine.

“There goes Rooster, I was waiting to see how long he would last without playing. Made it an hour.” Phoenix pulled Quin over to the piano, standing right next to Rooster’s sitting self. Just like Phoenix, Rooster had made his way to the Top Gun academy with them. Although they didn’t share the same best friend relationship her and Phoenix did, it was one where they could always confide in one another, no matter what. They’d been each other’s therapists since the academy, helping the other through everything. And neither of them expected any different.

By the time Quin joined in, the whole bar was screaming “Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of Fire!”. Rooster’s signature. The song died down, Rooster’s fingers no longer dancing over the keys with ease. He stood with a expression nothing short of joy-filled.

“We get to leave!” He yelled to the bar filled with fliers. Cheers, applause, agreements. Finding Phoenix distracted, Quinlan decided to slip through the packed space, out to the fresh air. She loved her companions, but the metaphorical battery powering her social motivation died a long while ago, before the sun had even set. She returned to the spot on the beach she once before occupied, sitting in the cooled sand. The bar quieted down ever so slightly as Quin watched the sky. The last bit of light fading from lavender to a beautiful navy. Footsteps sounded behind her, but she paid no mind. That was until they spoke at least.

“Peopled out, Cas?” his voice, still happy sounding, asked her sitting figure.

“Just thinking, Roost.” Quin answered as he sat next to her. Silence followed. Comfortable silence.

“What are you thinking of doing after we graduate, Cas?” His voice almost sounded detached, emotion void unlike his previous happy tone.

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought much.” Quin looked at his seated self. His head tilted towards the sky. Vulnerability was rarely something Rooster ever showed, but he felt comfortable around her. She never said anything unless she needed, so he knew anything she could possibly say was all she thought he would need, whether he wanted to hear it or not. He loved that. It reminded him of his mother. The comfort and safety he felt with her made the possibility of going separate ways daunting. Just the same as one would feel if they lost their safety net, too.

“I was thinking of joining the Black Aces, over in, uh, in Virginia Beach. They offered me a spot actually… And they said they had an extra.” He looked at Quin, expecting her to be looking back, but her face still pointed at the sky, the reflection of the stars speckling her icy eyes.

“You should take it Rooster. Maybe offer the spare to Phoenix. I’m sure she’d love that.” Quin knew his intentions, without a doubt, but she wanted to stay in California. In her safety circle, her comfort zone, if at all possible. Her ‘innocent’ suggestion of asking Phoenix was seen by Rooster as obliviousness. His inability to sense deeper emotion, whether intentional or not, shining bright.

“Actually Cas, I am offering it to you. That way we could be stationed together. We could still talk when I- when we needed. Be each other’s comfort person.” Rooster was usually of man of many words, his meaning hidden just beneath the surface. His inability to sense deeper emotion was only trumped by his inability to hide his own feelings within his words. He saw the small scrunch of Quin’s eyebrows, her processing his words.

“Pardon...?” Finally, Quin glanced over. Her mind, usually racing late into the nights, screeched to a halt. ‘When he needed’.

“I know comfort means uh… means a lot to you Cas…” His voice didn’t portray sincerity, it portrayed a man trying to wriggle himself out of a tight corner he had talked himself into moments before. Rooster had a way with words, he always had. A man of many, talking circles around Quin ever since they had met. Although one thing Rooster could never, ever, do was trick her. His intentions, emotions, right below the beautifully crafted lengthy crests and valleys of his speech. Anyone could see them, all they had to do was look. And look was something Quin, without a shred of doubt, knew how to do.

“Roost, the Black Aces are a big reputation to live up to. You ready for that?” Quin’s words were true to her thoughts. Her whispered words paired with a side glance, one that could be taken as skepticism if the person didn’t know her. But Rooster did. Yet, the words “are you ready” burned more that he assumed she intended, but the glance she gave poured acid on his wounds.

“Are you?” His response was crafted quickly, a bitter sting felt on Quin’s skin as he spoke. His gaze was intense. Not harmful, but forceful, nonetheless.

“No.” She looked forward once more. Unlike most young graduates in the Navy, Quinlan already had a family to worry about. Her younger sister, Emmelyn, was purely under Quin’s care. Currently asleep at home, with the watchful eye of a family friend. Emmelyn was Quin’s responsibility, her family to take care of, and to consider when planning her future. Em was only fourteen, enjoying the summer before she became a high school student, her last year of middle school coming to an end only three days before Quin’s graduation. Em had grown up for the better part of her childhood here, her friends and memories housed in California. She wasn’t ready to move on, move away, for Emmelyn’s sake, ignoring the decision she knew she would have to make. If there were anything in Quinlan’s life she would be willing to sacrifice her wellbeing for, it was her sister. With a glance at Rooster, deep down, Quin knew this wouldn’t end well. Maybe not tonight, but sometime soon, dangerously soon as she would come to realize, something was going to snap.

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