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deadsetobsessions · 2 months

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This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.

——

Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.

He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.

To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.

Or to Jason’s grave, at least.

Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.

——

Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.

“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”

Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!

“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.

Not that dumb!

Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.

Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!

“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.

“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.

“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.

“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.

“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.

“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.

….

Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.

——

“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.

It did not reply.

——

The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?

Reinforcements were called in.

Meaning, Batgirl.

“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”

“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”

“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”

Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.

“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.

“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.

That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.

“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.

“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”

“What?”

Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.

“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.

——

“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.

“Hey, wait-”

“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.

When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.

“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”

“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.

“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.

“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”

Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”

Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.

“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”

Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.

“Fix it.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.

“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”

Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.

“Robin, get down from there!”

“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.

Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.

“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”

“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.

Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.

——

“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”

Dick patted the headstone.

“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”

#y’all is the Romani language spelled Romany #idk if im reading that wrong but did you know the Vlad dialect is the most widespread?#nightwing #dick grayson robin #dick grayson #dick grayson’s gaslight gatekeeper girl boss moment #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batman and the trials of parenthood #google what to do when your vigilante child seems to have forgotten that he’s a vigilante #Batman using the magic Justice League like a wiki how #minors angst disguised as crack #also my favorite thing to write is brice and dick coping by talking to graves #but not actually talking to the grave’s owner who is actually alive #dick gets better about it #Bruce? not really #English is the fucking worst #Jason Todd #jason Todd’s grave

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elya-doodles · 2 months

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🫴

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little-pondhead · 4 months

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The Curse Of Hope

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

#dpxdc #pondhead blurbs #Gotham is very lanky and tall and had dozens of necklaces around their neck #the necklaces are just cords filled with lost things the citizens have lost over the years #like bits of glass or wedding rings or hag stones made from a destroyed gargoyle #actually I have a weird picture of Gotham in my head I might draw it #it’s giving Bloodborne to me but idgaf #basically Danny meets Gotham and is trying to convince them to go with him for medical help because what the fuck #those curses are the equivalent of leaving hundreds of leeches stuck to your body for ten years #Danny is BEGGING Gotham to come with him #there’s potential for angst but if you want crack then Danny probably replaces Gotham #I think there’s already a similar fic where he becomes the new spirit of Gotham but I haven’t read all of that #anyways the Batfam are like #invasive animals that are actually helping the ecosystem recover from an even WORSE invasive species #but they aren’t supernatural heroes and they don’t understand that the issue is deeper #I’m calling this the Curse of Hope because Danny is offering hope to Gotham #but Gotham is just so tired and sick and hurt that they don’t want to risk it #they think Danny is another curse come to plague them #should he just straight up adopt the city at this point?#idk it probably depends on how it’s written #sad course is to let Gotham die. happy ending is where they are treated and returned #crack ending probably has Danny adopting the city and introducing them to his own city spirit Amity Park #oh shit is that a new ship #guys please I can’t keep doing this #Gotham City x Amity Park #how the fuck do you come up with a name for that #Burger Joints?#Wet Pavement?#bro idk I’m putting this down before I make something I might regret #low key wanna write this but like. I have so much to do

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seishiroh · 1 year

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— it felt like the world / nagi seishiro x reader.

— hurt/comfort (i think). light angst (real). established relationship & break-up. timeskips. pro-player!nagi.

when you were seventeen, figuring out that nagi seishiro didn't mind you at all felt like the world.

when you hand him your heart on a silver platter and his gaze is warm and he replies okay, (like you're meant to understand what okay even means) there's a brush of pink on his cheeks.

he takes your hand because you're walking home together, pauses, then speaks, "i don't know how to be a boyfriend though…"

your answer is a smile, like you're happy enough just to be with him.

"just be yourself, nagi." you say.

he can do that—be himself. it's easy and being with you is easy, too. being with you feels nice, even if he isn't quite sure how to describe it—that should be enough for now. thinking too much about it is too much of a hassle anyway.

it's enough for quite a long while, actually. up until he's inside the blue lock building and reo is persuading him to stay.

"this is lame, though. i'd rather go home to y/n," he says.

but ego jinpachi and reo knew exactly just what to say to keep him in blue lock. after that, you're stuck with occasional calls and a few texts.

even with this, even just a little bit, nagi starts feeling like he's a world away. it’s probably the puppy love of it all, that you want more of his time with you. you're reckless enough to let that thought slip through when you're talking to him.

"what if you get eliminated, though?"

"hmm? s'not possible, reo won't let that happen…" and nagi sounds so sure of himself, all the time.

"you'll be gone for much longer, then?"

"i guess. training is such a pain. i just want to sleep and play games with you."

you laugh a little, silently, because he sounds so sleepy teetering the edge of knocking out.

"i wish they'd let you out, though. even just for a day… you feel so far away…" you trail off, the silence follows you, and you think he's finally asleep.

you wish him goodnight before hanging up, before the corners of your lips quiver into a frown.

it takes nagi two days.

two days after your last call, there's a knock on your door just as you finish watering choki.

when you open your front door and find your boyfriend standing there, phone blaring with the sound of his game, eyes trained to the screen—you can't help but hold your breath. there’s an echo of game over through the speakers of his phone before his grey eyes finally meet yours.

then, nagi smiles. he slips his phone inside his pocket, places his hand on top of your head, then leads you inside as if he owned the place.

but ah, well… with the love you had for him, you’d probably let him have all that was yours anyway.

all you get is a day with him, but it's enough for you to feel like your chest is expanding, like you're full of affection just for him. he seems different already from your time apart, but it's a good different and you're happy for him.

he's cuddled up against you and you feel like this is all you'll ever want—him. you've only been together for a few months and he seems rough around the edges, but you're starting to understand that nagi's love language is the way he's always touching you and pressing soft kisses against your skin like he's constantly telling you, silently letting you know, that he loves you.

but all you get is a day, then he's back in blue lock. the next time you see him is in the bleachers of their match against the JPN U-20 team and you're nothing short of captivated. it feels surreal to see him in the field like this, beaming with energy—he looks like he belongs with the stars, like he's exactly where he's meant to be.

there’s no question about him going pro. he will. and even when he starts feeling like he’s worlds away again, you couldn’t possibly love him less.

until he had to leave you.

you're standing opposite from each other in your living room. you're upset because you don’t want him to go, he can tell, but he's unyielding.

"this is something i want, though," he tells you, just factually, like this is just something you had to accept without a fight.

it's funny, because you had a lot of fight in you, actually. but you wanted him so bad, loved him so much.

in the end, you could only pray that the long distance works.

at twenty-one, nagi leaves you to join a team in england. he leaves you with choki and a promise he'd come back, visit you when he can. but each day spent without him, your chest empties out the affection it had once been full of. it's slow because nagi actually loved you, you knew this. he called as much as he could, he'd tell you to watch him play through the television and once in a while, rare as it is, there's a bouquet of flowers at your front door.

love is enough except when he comes home to you briefly for your anniversary, nagi knows something is wrong. somehow, despite the warmth in your eyes and your happiness that he’s there, you’re privy to his touch.

like he’s completely unfamiliar to you.

it doesn’t stop him from proposing, it doesn’t stop you from saying yes. you keep thinking you don’t want him to slip from your fingertips but nagi knows you’re slipping from his. he moves in with you, you're hopeful again.

it wouldn't kill you if you couldn't hold his hand whenever you want. you think perhaps this is enough. it had to be.

it doesn’t stop him from flying back to england after. he still called as much as he could—but the time difference remains difficult, the press is ruthless with assumptions when nagi's partnered up with models in brand endorsements, and nagi hears less of you when he's too tired from his games. eventually, you stopped picking up every call because you'd rather be busy with your life than wonder what your lover was up to, miles away from you and knowing this wasn't enough.

you realise it when your heart is finally breaking, that you’re asking this over the phone instead of right in front of him.

“my parents have been asking, seishiro… when are we getting married?”

you've been engaged for over a year and no plans have been made—but it’s worse when you’re met with silence. the future blurs further, you’re not sure if you could do this alone anymore because this was his decision. when he said he’d come back, you probably should’ve asked how long he’d be gone from you.

“we can figure it out when the contract ends, planning a wedding's a pain anyway,” he mutters through the phone.

“but i want you home, sei.” and it’s the most honest you’ve ever been to him in the past two years.

“i can’t just leave, though,” he replies. you wonder if he'd ever thought the same two years ago, before he left you.

you wonder if it would be petty of you to ask if he ever thought he couldn't just leave you.

he gets a vacation on the next year, just a year before his contract with manshine city ends. but you’re with him on the couch when he tells you he’s being offered a better contract in spain. that he wants to take it. you want to be happy for him, but the breaking of your heart is loud enough in your own ears. it’s so loud that the words slipping from your mouth are unfiltered and uttered without thought.

“what about us, sei? what about me?”

nagi frowns like he doesn’t understand what you mean.

“it's not like we're in a hurry to get married, y/n. we can just do it whenever.”

“would you leave me then, too?”

"it doesn't matter, we'd still be together." but you couldn't give him the answer he wants and the ring on your finger is starting to feel heavier.

your silence is all that he's met with and the uncertainty frustrates him. if he's honest, realising you might not want to be with him anymore hurts. so instead he asks again, "do we have to figure this out now?"

"you've been away from me for years, sei. when will you come home? or am i just not worth staying around for?"

he stands from the couch, phone in hand, "i dunno, maybe you're not."

he says it so nonchalantly. as if it wasn't enough to break you. you know he's about to walk out the door, leave again.

"i miss you, you know. i want to feel like you still love me… but you're so far away from me," you try while you're watching him shrug his hoodie on, reaching for his keys.

watching him leave.

"you've been saying this for years. you're just being a pain, y/n."

then he's out the door.

one week later and six years of your relationship with nagi runs down the drain.

you wonder what hurts more: letting him go or in another universe, being married to him while you're stuck apart from each other—because leaving you was easy.

your place is rid of nagi's things, it isn't much, he simply loads it up in the back of his car. for either of you, it's yet to sink in.

until you're slipping the diamond ring from your finger, standing in front of him.

"take care, nagi," you tell him with a tight smile, the ring falling into the palm of his hand and an ache settling heavy on his chest.

he hums, eyes trained on the ring he got for you. he says okay and then he's driving off. you're left to wonder where you go from here.

nagi comes back to england early and news of your split is quick.

a few months later, rumours of him taking an offer from a team in spain circulates and your heart hurts again because even if this is how you split up, you wish you could still hear his voice after he wins a game—telling you he's tired, telling you he wishes he could just go home to you.

but nagi doesn't know what to do with himself after every win anymore. when his teammates invite him for a celebratory drink, he comes only because he isn't sure he can handle the frustration of knowing he can't call you, or that you won't pick up even if he did.

he has a few months left with manshine before he could sign a new contract. the frustration never ends though; every moment slipping by him, the ring he keeps on a chain around his neck is a weight heavy with your absence.

he thought that this is what he wanted, that being far from you never really mattered, that it's okay if he couldn't feel you against him anymore, couldn't kiss you like he's telling you he loves you without the words.

he wonders if you felt like this the whole time he's been away for years.

it's a pain that he figures he never wants to feel anymore.

so when the year ends, nagi finds himself at your front door instead of spain.

your door opens and there you are, pretty as ever, eyes bright with a kind of carefree edge to them. but you're pretty, even with the shock painting your face that he'd usually tease you for.

it's all he could think of, that you're so pretty and so, so close to him again and there's so much he wants to say with no idea how to say them.

"nagi… what are you…?"

"i missed you," is the first thing he says. they're words enough to make your lips quiver and eyes sting. "and i'm sorry, i left thinking i'll be fine even if i loved you."

he speaks while he's trying to etch into memory the way you say his name again, so clearly, so softly. you miss him a lot too, you want him back without question, but you think you can't just take him back to let him leave again.

"but you're supposed to be in spain—" you mumble, confused. he's shaking his head before you could finish, a pout settled on his lips.

"i don't want to be there, though. i want to stay here with you, if you let me again..."

"i don't understand, what about soccer?"

"doesn't matter anymore, i could just join the japan u-20. they'll let me do that, right? but everything else is a pain if you're not there." he sounds so sure of himself, like he thought about it everyday since you were gone from him.

it's difficult to process because you've wanted this for so long, to finally have him back to you. it takes you so long that he gets nervous, because what if you don't want him anymore?

he shifts his gaze, suddenly flustered but all the more certain, "i love you, y/n. i'll prove it to you if i have to."

to be honest, nagi isn't sure what he would've done if you didn't want him anymore. perhaps he could've tried his best to win you back, even if it took him too much effort. he'd do it only because nothing truly makes him as happy as he is with you. nothing is that much troubling or that much boring as long as he had you.

it's just you he needs, really.

luckily for him, he doesn't really have to dwell on it—because your warmth engulfs him, your arms around his body.

and he says, finally, "i'm home, y/n."

#nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #:: thread of fate #blue lock angst #BRO HAHAHAHAHHAAH WHAT IS THIS LMFAOOAOAOA #im not sure what this is idk how to feel abt this cause it doesnt feel good enough bUT IT IS WHAT IT IS #bro im never letting myself stop writing for so long again...

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faetima · 2 months

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𝐝𝐥𝐦𝐥𝐮 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝) . .

. . you have hanahaki, a severe case of shyness, and a crush on scaramouche, and scaramouche is an absolute jerk.

// tws ; blood ; gn reader ; hanahaki & modern au ; slight cursing

a/n: first time posting here yippee (pls be nice)

you sobbed, heaving up stupid yellow carnations while sitting on the cold, hard floor of the school bathroom.

you wretched up the damned flowers. they fell ungracefully into the toilet which sat in front of you.

your knees hurt from sitting on them for so long.

if only you could tell him how you felt. it would finally all be over, one way or another. maybe with your feelings being requited.

or maybe with you choking to death, the only thing with you while you die being the stupid fucking flowers.

you coughed again, pale yellow petals fluttering to the ground elegantly.

it was a stark contrast to how, just moments after that, you were coughing your lungs out, flowers flopping down into the toilet in large clumps; stuck together by mucus and blood.

you wheezed and wheezed and wheezed until it felt like there was nothing left in your lungs and your throat was burning and your knees were bruised.

you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until there were no more tears left.

you coughed and coughed and coughed to the point you thought maybe just dying would be better than this fucking hell.

you curled into a ball, crying. crystalline tears ran down your cheeks, falling onto your clothes, the ground, anything.

if only you could fucking talk. why were you like this? why were you fine with your friends, but so terrified to talk to anyone? to everyone?

to him?

maybe, just maybe, if you were different you wouldn’t be in this situation.

if only you weren’t so pathetic, so stupid, so scared.

you hated yourself. you hated yourself so, so much. who the fuck was this terrified to talk to people, but opened up so easily once others talked to them?

maybe you should just confess and get it all over with.

—

you opted to just give him a letter anonymously.

who knew if he would even read it? he received dozens of confessions everyday.

even if he did read it, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

—

if you could, you would eat up your words.

it was much, much worse than you thought.

he had ripped open the envelope, immediately reading the letter with a scowl.

he wasn’t even halfway through when he burst out laughing.

”what the fuck is this?” he snickered, holding onto his locker so he wouldn’t fall from how hard he was laughing.

”what pathetic fucking weirdo confesses from an anonymous letter? are they too terrified to say it to my fuckin’ face?”

he continued reading the letter.

when he was done, he crumpled it up and threw it away behind him, still laughing.

”that’s so goddamn stupid.”

unfortunately, the crumpled up letter hit you on your head.

not embarrassing, right?

well, it wasn’t until scaramouche saw it had hit you.

”oh, sorry,” he exclaimed in a voice dripping with mock sweetness.

”didn’t see you there.”

it would’ve been fine until his next comment, which you unfortunately overheard.

”these dumb fucking bitches. they’re so stupid, can’t even move out of the way. what are they, blind?” he muttered under his breath, tone condescending.

you burst into tears right then and there, unable to stop the overflow of emotions.

you walked away as quick as you could, wanting to kill yourself right there.

”so emotional, and over what?”

his laugh rang down the hallway, following and taunting you.

—

you don’t know what had come over you that day. before that you had always tried to keep your emotions in check, always tried to stop the tears from coming out in front of people you didn't know.

maybe hearing your crush degrade and insult you had just struck a chord or something.

—

weak coughs wracked your frail body, using up the little energy you had left.

you were on your death bed (quite literally! you were laying on your bed while dying).

honey yellow flowers surrounded you, their sickly sweet scent making you feel nauseous.

you choked up another batch of the flaxen flowers, watching them flop forward onto your bed sheets, staining them a dull crimson because of the blood on them.

with half lidded eyes, you stared at the carnations. your mind was hazy, and your vision blurred.

if you recalled correctly, they symbolized disdain and rejection.

how fitting.

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bibuck-saved-me · 4 months

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it’s a selfish thought and arthur knows it because merlin has spent so much time hiding a vital part of his existence, his very being, all because of arthur. so he presses it down into the deepest recesses of himself and focuses on doing everything he can to support merlin, to give merlin the world he deserves. a world where he is free.

but sometimes, when he’s alone in his room surrounded by his endless responsibilities, he will think to himself, i am nothing.

merlin and the old religion hold him as this once and future king, but no matter what they say, he can’t understand why they think any of this is about him. it was never him. everything he’d done, every accomplishment and fight he’d won had never been his to claim. he was a fraud. he was a lonely king with nothing to his name beyond the blood on his hands, the blood staining his every crevice.

he isn’t the once and future king. he doesn’t deserve any of the praise. he is the moon, a piece of rock in the sky that shines only because of the sun. without the sun, the moon is worthless. without the sun, no one would have ever looked at the moon twice.

arthur had never been proud of his mistakes and his inaction when it came to his father’s slaughter, but he had been proud of the things he had done to keep his kingdom and his people safe and healthy and happy. he has fought and fought and fought only to discover he had never even landed a punch. every knockout, every victory he had held up to hide the ugly nothingness of his true, empty self was never his to hold. with the discovery of merlin’s magic, any worthiness he thought he’d earned had slipped through his fingers like sand through a sieve.

merlin is beautiful and powerful. merlin is a god amongst men, a gift given to this world, given to arthur, and for what?

this prophecy for arthur was always about merlin. he carried the weight, he fought and fought and fought and he won, merlin was the one who had carried this kingdom on his back until they reached the safety of the golden era of the current day.

it’s a selfish thought, to be thinking of himself in relation to merlin’s magic when merlin has suffered every single day because of arthur. and yet, in those moments, he can’t help but wonder why he was born at all, why he was named savior of a group of people who would’ve never died if only he had stayed unmade, a whisper of nothingness in his mother’s womb.

his first breath caused a massacre, a genocide, and yet he was given an angel and a title and a prophecy of greatness he could never actually fulfill.

he would never tell merlin about these thoughts he had. merlin would end up feeling guilty somehow, would carry the weight of arthur’s worthlessness even more by taking on the deserved revulsion arthur had for himself.

no, he couldn’t tell merlin about this. merlin would tell him he was wrong, would try to talk him up and fix it. would use that endless kindness to tell arthur endless stories about his own importance. merlin would shine his sunshine on arthur until arthur forgot he was just a lump of rock. he wouldn’t rest until arthur loved himself, until arthur took all the credit for merlin’s own accomplishments again.

no, he would keep this to himself. he would give merlin the attention and love he deserves. this story isn’t actually about arthur pendragon. it never was.

#idk what this is #anyway #sorry #me? projecting? never #also to clarify uh this is obviously not how i feel personally about arthur!!#i love that man i just wanted to explore how the insecurities we see him have in the show would look post magic reveal #merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #bbc arthur #merthur #it’s hinted at more than anything though #character study #character introspection #might delete later #ficlet #angst

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yoisami · 8 months

Text

˚₊‧୨୧ DISTANCE

[૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა]: this was supposed to be a longfic but i am not bothered + don’t have time so just take the climax lol

tags: itoshi sae x gn!reader, 1k wc, angst (ig?) with a happy ending, rejection, unestablished relationship, reciprocated feelings, not proofread i'm sorry

the salty air that’s drifted from lapping waves fills your senses, provocative to your wounded heart that’s yet to be healed.

your breath hitches when your eyes land on sae, standing in the distance and near the shore, silently gazing at the collection of stars that embroidered the night sky.

your beats of your heart echoes within you as your hand rises to rest against your chest—you're nervous, humiliated, disappointed, and quite frankly, you don’t want to approach sae.

especially not after the incident that occurred three days ago, where you offered him your heart, hopeful about your confession, only for him to reject you without saying anything, walking away like your love was a disease.

but it’s exhausting to have meals in silence, save for the awkward noise that wooden chopsticks make against paper bowls; it’s exhausting to know that you’re the sole reason for the elephant in the room, and it’s exhausting to hear the same phrase from your best friends when you apologise: “it’s not your fault”.

and for the sake of your best friends—for the sake of the remainder of this trip in okinawa, you’ve left the house to confront sae, and the only thing that’s relieving the tension in your system is the song conjured by the ocean.

wish, wash. wish, wash. your footsteps follow the rhythm to the song. your courage grows with the number of footprints you’ve made in the sand, and soon, you find yourself standing near him, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you.

and in this invisible barrier that keeps you apart, are many things that have been left unsaid.

“i haven’t thanked you for the coffee you made me today.” warm and sweet, it was left on the kitchen counter for you by sae, which you assumed was his token of apology that you quietly accepted. this morning, you enjoyed the coffee with a sour heart.

he turns around, eyes widening slightly because he’s become conscious of your presence, and it’s overwhelming him. guilt pricks his shoulders, but he locks his gaze onto you—the person his heart and mind were dwelling on for a long, long time.

you hold his gaze momentarily, permitting yourself a minute to forget about all the hurt he’s inflicted upon you and to fall in love with the teal in his eyes again.

sae looks away. “you don’t need to.”

“it’s good manners to.” you smile at him for the first time in three nights, but it resembles your forced ones more than your genuine ones.

and it tugs onto sae’s heartstrings.

“you don’t have to be so polite to me—we’re close.”

his words grazes the wound in your heart. you’re friends, so of course you’re close to each other—sae’s also an arm’s reach away, but right now, he’s unreachable.

you don’t intend for it to be a whisper, but it is—the words are weak, and you’re not sure if you mean it entirely. “yeah. we are.”

the silence returns, and this time, the waves’ song doesn’t encourage you—it’s breaking you apart, and you’re holding yourself together with all the strength left in your body.

“i wish you could have said something to me when i confessed.”

sae does too. he’s ashamed, disgusted at himself for hurting you, and the pit in his heart only expands when he hears you sniffle. your eyes are searching for something in his—he doesn't know what it is, but there’s desperation behind your irises as you step closer.

“why didn’t you say something back?”

he doesn’t respond. as regret twists his stomach, making him feel sick about the situation, the anger you’ve concealed these past few days is beginning to seep out. the look in your eyes have changed, and sae’s deprived of things to say to you. or, more like, he doesn’t know how to say it to you—how to tell you that he wasn’t supposed to reject you.

“you could have at least said ‘no’, and i would have been okay, sae! but you didn’t! instead, you got up, walked away, and left me with my thoughts—left me to think if there was something wrong with me!”

perhaps this was the first time sae’s ever heard you so frustrated, so anguished, and he doesn’t dare look away, knowing that if he does, something terrible will ensue.

“you should’ve just told me you don’t feel the sa—”

“but i do,” these three words tumbles out his mouth as sae averts his attention to the sea, and then back at you, hands gripping onto your arms. “i like you too.”

your train of thought short-circuits—his proclamation has emptied you of your words. “then why did yo—”

“because i’m terrified that if i let you in any closer, i’ll end up hurting you—even more than now!” his heart is pulsing, and his hands are trembling against your skin. sae doesn’t know what he’s doing, but whatever is happening right now, it’s all to redeem himself for all the wounds his actions have left on your heart. “i’ve pushed people away, and i’ve hurt them with my words, and god, i don’t want that to happen to you!”

“and i don’t know if i can even do or say all the things people do to their lovers. i’m shit with my words; i’m terrible at showing affection. how am i supposed to make you happy if i can’t do any of these things?”

finally, the barrier cracks, and you’re leaning, indulging in each other’s touch—something that you and sae have yearned to do for a long, long time.

his embrace is clumsy, but you grasp onto him like it’s the last time you’ll ever be this close to him. “you’ll learn—we’ll learn together, yeah?”

with synchronised breaths, and fingers that lace together beside your pressed bodies, your hand closes together, holding onto a handful of his shirt.

“don’t push me away again.”

sae doesn’t think he will again.

#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨୧ by saki #dont ask me what this is bc idk myself either #but all ik is that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A LONGFIC HELLO #but i didnt like how it turned out #so i wrote this #its cliched but sighs take it or leave it #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae x you #sae x you #sae itoshi x you

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