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ma1dita · 8 months

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without a doubt

part one can be found here -> it will pass

words: little under 3k

summary: James has a lot of questions, but he quickly finds out Peanut is the answer.

warnings: none! angst–hurts before things get happy, peter (since some of yall might need a warning), all the marauders are alive and happy, lily is too smart for this, peanut and jelly 4 ever

a/n: thank you for all the love (and tears shed) for it will pass! i genuinely rewrote this about four different times and almost lost the plot, but please let me know if it meets your expectations!

(posted 9/11/23)

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 4

I know it will pass, it’s just heavy. You’re all I know.

There’s something about the noise in your brain as you move around your silent apartment. It overpowers the fear that hasn’t quite left your body after he let the front door fall shut. Being paralyzed in the aftermath of the truth that left your lips…It’s maddening. And you can’t even talk to the person you want to hear it most. You love him.

I do love you (Y/N), just in a different way.

Those 10 minutes were a fleeting moment in the life you’ve shared with your best friend thus far. But now, he’s stopped writing, stopped calling, and you’ve never heard him be so quiet in the past few days after the fact. There’s a knock at the door, and the sound interrupts the way you breathe, dishrag in hand, and James’ sweater still on your body.

I know that, James. I just don't know how to stop.

“What a vision you make, (Y/N).” Remus jokes in an attempt to try to make you smile. He’s leaning against the doorframe as you pop your head through the opening and he slowly moves to follow you into your home. Why does it feel like you have to explain yourself this time? But Remus is deeply understanding in nature, and he opens his arms for you to burrow yourself in.

“Get yourself fixed up. Not taking a no for an answer, love. You’ve been MIA for long enough and you know how Pads is about his birthday. He’ll want you there, broken heart be damned.” Remus is rubbing your back, and you groan.

“Ever the fucking diva.”

His chest rumbles with laughter, but both of you know that you say it lightly. Years ago, when Sirius moved into the Potter’s, it was understood that every birthday was to be as great as he was to his found family.

Nothing has to change, Peanut.

Remus sniffs you lightly, nose crinkling, “Place is spotless. Your turn for a deep clean and then off we go.” A horrified noise leaves your throat as you push yourself out of his embrace.

As the steam from the shower slowly suffocates you, you realize that Remus innately knew the reason for your emotional sabbatical from James and the rest of your friends. You wonder if everyone’s known that you’ve been in love with James Potter, and scrunch your face at how oblivious you both have been. The cold water washes away the grief that’s had a handle on your being this past month. Out of all the pranks they’ve played, this tops it. What a sick joke for the both of you to be left out of.

I think you should go now. Please.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 3

All of Sirius’s birthdays are spectacular, but you really can’t fight the hurt crawling up your chest. There are too many memories here at Potter Manor, too many familiar faces asking where you’ve been, and James looks petrified, eyes following your figure around the Manor like you’re a ghost he can’t touch. You walk up the stairs like you have many times over the years, finding a hideaway in the west wing. You and James used to gaze at the stars here.

“So why the hell are you moping on my birthday? No one’s allowed to be sad today.” Sirius grins, breaking the silence as he walks across the balcony to throw his arms over your seated figure.

“Happy Birthday Padfoot.” you smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You clink your glass against his as he takes a seat next to you on the bench.

“Trust me when I say you always look stunning, (Y/N) but there’s this look in your eye that you get when you’re around Prongs nowadays. Might I say it’s why you dropped off the face of the Earth?”

Your face instantly drops at his words, and you’re glad he can’t see much in the dim light.

“How long have you all known, Pads?”

“I don’t know about much when it comes to love, (Y/N). But what I do know is that I’m his brother, and you’re his best friend. There’s a lot of responsibility being those two things for someone like that idiot. You love him like humans need air.”

“I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” The elderflower wine glides down your throat, its taste sweet on your tongue. Sirius sits with you, knowing what’s coming next. As an older brother, he also knows you’ve been waiting for someone to listen.

“What do I do with all the love I have for him? Where does it go now that he doesn’t want it?”

“I’ll take some. It sounds lovely.” Peter’s voice almost echoes in the silence as you both turn your heads to see him and Remus in the dim light of the hallway, a bottle of firewhiskey in hand and it makes you genuinely smile for the first time in days.

“Yeah, pass it around. Godric knows Prongs doesn’t appreciate you enough.” Remus says bluntly, and you hit his stomach when he ruffles your hair.

“Honestly, what a prat! Makes you plan his proposal and doesn’t want you at the afterparty? The nerve.” You choke on the remnants of your wine as you laugh at Sirius’s outrage for you, and all four of you are giggling in the dark like idiots as Remus pours you shots. If anything else goes wrong in this life, you’re glad that you have the Marauders to live it with you.

The laughter reaches the hallway, and in walks Lily, who teasingly asks “Did the party move in here without us?” James is as still as a statue behind her, watching you laugh with his boys. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you happy and acknowledges that he’s to blame.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Lils. There’s always a party when Padfoot’s around,” you remark, and everyone gets up to go back to the party. Lily looks around as if she’s missing something, then looks at James.

“I’m glad that (Y/N)’s back from whatever’s been keeping her busy. Looks like everything’s falling back into place.” she muses, and James can’t help but watch his best friend, no, his best girl, walk away, thinking that everything must be falling apart.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 2

It’s morning now, and a lot of the crowd has gone home or fallen asleep in the many rooms of Potter Manor. You decide to stay to help clean up for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who were always like second parents to you as well. They had a thing for taking in kids who needed love. With your best efforts, you can’t seem to escape James, who has incessantly trailed behind you into every room you walk into. You dodge him again as you walk down the hall, but James, who has always been a chaser in more ways than one grabs you by the arm and pushes you into his childhood bedroom.

A shriek leaves you as he closes the door and has you up against the wall.

“What the fu—”

“You’re avoiding me. Why are you avoiding me?” his face is panicked as his breath hits your face.

“You told me to leave you alone. That’s what I’m doing now, James. What else could you want from me?” Your hands are on his chest, crinkling the dress shirt that you once helped him pick out at the shops, and you feel breathless, angry at knowing him too well, and angry at what he’s insinuating.

James is at a loss. He loves you. He’s never gone more than a weekend without you and now it’s been ages…. And he loves you. He’s looking at you differently now, in the sunlight that floods through his old bedroom. He loves you so much that it hurts.

His hands slide from the wall behind you, until they reach your shoulders, and trace down your arms. Intertwining your fingers together, James speaks.

“I didn’t mean…” he exhales. “I just…”

“Did you not want me here too? Because unfortunately, my friends are also yours, so maybe we can clarify exactly the terms you want me to follow next time, James.” you seethe, getting in his face.

You push him away, his arms chasing after you, pining for your touch. Your heart is racing with hurt, with anger, with love, all for the man standing across the room.

“Peanut…”

“No.”

“I never want you to leave me alone, okay? It’s been agony without you and I can’t even put into words how—”

“I can, James. How long have I been so oblivious to the fact that I’m in love with you and how long have you just let it happen? You can’t just… please don’t pretend that you don’t know that I’ve been waiting all my life for you to let me fill the empty spaces in your heart.” Your voice wavers as you pull yourself away from him, sitting on his bed.

“Just tell me what’s happening, Peanut. You’ve always had the answers. I feel like I can’t breathe when you’re not there and I….. my heart feels like it’s going to combust… I… I just feel…. so intensely. I miss who I am when I’m with you.”

James throws himself down onto the bed, hyperventilating with his head in his hands. Your hands are shaking as you reach for him. You’ll always reach for him.

He raises his head, as you delicately grab his face into your hands. Your fingertips brush his tears away, loving him for the mess he is.

“My life has been so quiet these past few days and I’m so scared to live life without you. Did I fuck it all up for us?” You whisper.

James licks his lips, and he’s playing with your hair in his hands. Your knees are touching on the patterned bedspread. The space between you diminishes as you realize that he’s about to ruin everything.

Your best friend is going to kiss you.

He’s holding your jaw so gently and for a second, you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be loved by him in the way that you do. With every single ounce of control, you turn your head away from what you’ve been craving most. James’ lips land on your cheek, and he’s chasing after you again, muttering apologies as he looks into your eyes and sees everything he’s been wanting. He sees his whole life with you through the split second your eyes connect. Pushing him away again, you stumble away with a sob.

“What was that?”

“I just… “ He’s gasping for air, feeling like his heart has exploded, and the silence is so loud that he feels like his heart must be in pieces, and you’re picking up the wreckage to take home. He’s in love with you. His heart has always been yours.

“You what, James? Don’t do that!”

He’s lived in a mansion his whole life but Godric, is this room suddenly feeling too small? You get on your feet, stepping away from him and he’s following you.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me hate you, Jelly. Loving you has been painful enough.” Tears are blurring your vision as you hiccup, and maybe it’s better to not see him right now. Maybe you really shouldn’t have come.

“I just wanted to know. I know now, love, I…” James whimpers at the sound of his nickname. Your nickname for him alone has this man wanting to drop to his knees.

“No. Don’t you know how cruel you’re being right now? To me? To the love of your life? I would never do that to Lily!” Your voice is getting louder by the minute, and James is stoic in his silence, steps away from your blaze.

“But you told me you’re in love with me. Are you saying this is because of me?”

“Everything I do is because of you, James. And if you don’t know that by now…” Then maybe you don’t know me at all.

The words go unsaid but the both of you are hit with the reality of it. Your hands jangle the doorknob to get away from him, to be anywhere but here.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 1

Lily listens intently as James tells her everything he's been wanting to say for the last eleven years. She's not surprised, in fact, she knows this is the truth, but she's still heartbroken. Lily Evans and James Potter are both people who like to chase things, people—but after all that’s said and done, the thrill wears off. They’re more alike than they’ll ever know.

He tries to apologize, but Lily cuts him off and tells him there's no need. She's always known the truth, and even though it took him this long, she's glad he finally figured it out. Smartest girl of their year, after all.

“I mean, I always felt like she should’ve been dating you, but then we happened and I fell too hard and didn’t stop to ask questions. I tried to be blind to it, but…it was nice, wasn’t it?” Lily whispers, holding James’ hand for the last time. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“I’ll be okay, Potter. I was before you, and I will be after you. So thank you for being honest. You’ve always been honest with me.” A small kiss on his cheek renders him breathless. Once upon a time, he would stay up all night at the idea of Lily Evans loving him. But his heart has always belonged to you. Without a doubt, James Potter is in love with you, his best friend.

He doesn’t tell Lily he was planning to propose tomorrow, since the situation is already as messy as it is. But Lily Evans always knows.

—

JAMES HAS A PROPOSAL

James is pushing boxes back into Potter Manor, and Mippy helps flit the rest of his belongings up the stairs with magic. The least he could do is give Lily their apartment after their breakup. He looks around, rubbing his fingers of dust as his mother calls him for dinner. How humbling, he thinks, to start all over because he was too stupid to realize he’s in love. Starting over in a place he calls home is absurd. He looks out towards the courtyard where you had your fairytale wedding, walks by the hallways you used to race training broomsticks in, and back to his room where he used to whisper hushed lullabies to help you sleep. Everything reminds him of you, and your love consumes each memory that flickers through his vision. The feeling shocks him like ripping your head out of a pensieve. He’s so utterly in love with you.

What the hell is he doing at his parents’ house? He should be getting his girl! James apparates to your apartment, knocking on the door like a madman. He knocks so loudly the wood is bruising his knuckles, red blooming under his touch.

The door rips open, and he’s never been so glad to see you angry.

“You literally have a key, James. You don’t have to be a dick every—”

“You’re wrong.”

Your frustration gives way, lines on your forehead wrinkling in confusion. It’s like there’s a glass separating the both of you, and you’re scared to touch him.

You shake your head as he continues, “You’re wrong, by the way. I don’t know if Lily’s the love of my life. I haven’t lived it with her, nor will I. What I do know is that I’ve loved you for most of mine.”

“What are you saying, Jelly,” you utter, and James’ is grinning so largely you want to punch his face in.

“I love you. As in I’m in love with you. Without any doubt, or excuses, or anyone holding me back, my heart is yours, if you’ll have me?”

He rushes to catch you, his proposal hitting you hard as you fall into his embrace, hands feeling as much of him as you can. His broad shoulders, his strong neck, the dimples on his cheek, the glasses on his face—all of him is in love with you.

Your blubbering is muffled as he finally pulls his lips to yours, finally feeling, finally… James’ kiss lays out all of what he’s been holding in, and without words you both understand that this wreckage in your beating hearts, the destruction of everything you’ve set together as best friends, is love. He’s clutching you to his body, moving you backward into your apartment, feet moving in sync like an orchestrated dance. You both fall onto your couch in a fit of laughter and tears. Finally.

“How foolish of me to be with another, Peanut. I’m a married man, after all.”

"Not bad for a second kiss, Jelly." You laugh at him.

James looks at your smile like it’s the answer to every question he’ll ask in this life.

—

“We give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone.” Fredrik Backman

tagged: @prongs-moon @alltheotherkidss @anehkael @princessprongs

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders x reader #mischiefmoons iwp #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader angst #marauders era

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ivystoryweaver · 9 months

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Steven Grant oblivious roommate headcanons pt. 4

previous next

SGORH masterlist

Part 4: Sometimes he almost seems like two different people

"Steven, what are the chances that we both had terrible dates on the same night?” You pose the question.

You and Steven tipped the server at the steakhouse and walked home, arms linked.

“At least you had a date. I guess I misunderstood... I thought today was Friday.”

“You thought today was…”

Something is up. You and Steven sit side-by-side on the couch, arms touching from shoulders to elbows, feet stretched out on an old trunk that doubles as a coffee table

You remind Steven that he was visiting his mom on Friday - even missed work because of it

Something strange happens to him then. He gets flustered and he can't seem to string together a coherent sentence.

Then he goes completely statue-like, and deadly quiet. His breathing changes - it slows. And almost imperceptibly, he pulls away from you.

You ask if he's ok. He nods once, pushes off the couch and starts to walk away. "Just tired." His voice sounds different.

Did you say something wrong? Maybe he just feels terrible for getting stood up. Yeah, that's probably it. He's embarrassed.

You scurry behind him, reaching for his arm. He always likes your hugs, so you try to hug him.

You just want to see the tiniest smile from him, or at least to remind him that he's wonderful and it's Dylan's loss.

He stiffens at your touch - then he gently shrugs you off and says goodnight.

You feel like he's punched you square in the chest. Seriously, your breathing is affected.

The next morning, you find Steven talking to Gus - an adorable habit of his. "If you're Gus, then I'm the bloody Queen of Sheba," he mutters.

Things get weirder. Steven misses more work shifts, but whenever you ask him about it, he shrugs you off and acts different. Maybe this is why he can't keep a roommate?

Sometimes he almost seems like two different people

You try not to take things personally - after all, you're co-workers and roommates. Maybe he doesn't share your feelings about your friendship.

One day, after you switch from the train to the bus, on the final leg of the trip home, you notice a man watching you. In fact, you're pretty sure he was watching you on the train too. He's followed you onto the bus.

Steven wasn't at work today, so you're alone. Maybe you're just paranoid.

When you exit the bus at your stop, the same man exits behind you. Your heart beats wildly - you pick up your pace. So does he. You turn to take a different path home. He's not ten paces behind you.

Just when you think you might break out into a run, a hand grabs your arm. With a yelp, you see that it's Steven. He doesn't smile or give you a typical greeting. His hair is pushed back from his face, styled neatly.

"Come on, let's get you home." What is going on? He doesn't even sound British. He takes your hand and pulls you along.

"S-Steven?" You ask. "Where were you today? I thought you were sick."

"Not now," he answers, in a hushed tone. "It's not safe." He says nothing else. He simply maneuvers you home, keeping a possessive hold on you.

His mouth is set in a firm, thin line. His dark eyes scan your surroundings for danger. His defined jaw clenches in determination.

You're so confused, but you feel safe. "Thank you," you gasp.

He spares you a glance and a nod. Then he tucks you into the door of your flat and gives instructions. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

You protest.

"I just wanna make sure it's safe. Stay here." He leaves.

Twenty minutes later, after you've paced a hole in the floor, Steven comes back. "Oh...hi love. You hungry? Just got some takeaway."

what the hell

tbc...

Coming up: Don't worry, more Steven incoming

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tkachukz · 11 months

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I will take care of you -Matthew Tkachuk

-this is my first fic, be nice :) -english is not my first language, if I have something written wrong I'm sorry (and let me know so I can fix it and learn)

-words: 1.0 K

summary: When you find out your boyfriend played the game 4 with a fractured sternum.

Millions of thoughts swirled through your clouded mind as you drove fast to Matthew's house.

The guilt haunted you. You are unable to attend either of the two games in Florida, due to work, that required you to travel to New York for the entire week.

The television, however, was on for Game 3, and you saw Matt get knocked down in rough hit, feeling your heart sink when he was slow to get up, and even more when he was out for several minutes. Seeing him back on the ice at the end of the game - and still scoring a goal - brought a little peace. He wouldn't play injured right?

In the post-match call - which always happened when you was away - he looked tired, said that maybe he had a bad shoulder, but that he was fine.

The days were silent until game 4, and as much as you wanted to call he every second, you imagine he needed some time to focus better. You knew how important all that was to him.

In Game 4, you could tell from the first shift that he was hurt. Anyone could see. He would try to get away when a fight broke out, dodge hits, and skate for less time than usual. Despite this, the effort he put in was evident, but unfortunately, the Panthers lost that game.

He took a while to answer your call that night and your instincts already knew something was wrong. When the camera finally turned on, you felt your heart sink at the sight of Matthew's exhausted face on the screen. He dodged a bit, saying his shoulder must be dislocated or something. He repeated a million times that he was fine and that you didn't have to worry, and considering his tired face, you gave up and let him rest.

He didn't play Game 5, and calls for him filled his inbox in seconds. Only something very serious would take Matthew out of the game and you knew it. Hochey was his life, and his desire to help and impress not only his team and fans, but also his family - most notably his father.

He called you at the end of the night, after the defeat.He was devastated, sadness shining in his blue eyes. Matt made the excuse that his shoulder had gotten worse, and even though you knew it was supposed to be more than that, you managed not to push him that night, you knew that would be the last thing he needed.

In the rest of the call, you did everything to try to comfort him, and his eyes lit up thinking that in a few days you to would meet in Florida.

You were on the plane when the list of injured players came out. You knew Matthew's name would be there, but his injury took your breath away.

You walked into the house not bothering to close the door behind you, your heart almost bursting out of your mouth.

“Did you play with a fractured sternum?????”

Matthew's eyes bugged out.

He was in the kitchen, standing drinking water, while Brady was eating cereal.

“I can explain” your boyfriend said in a wary voice.

You approached slowly, feeling your eyes sting. You placed your hands on his cheeks, still feeling the thick stubble.

“I get so worried” your eyes conveyed all your emotions and you felt on the verge of tears.Matthew reached down slowly, wrapping his strongs arms around you in a soft embrace.

You snuggled into him, keeping your arms light, afraid of hurting him. “You can hug me, I'm fine” he seemed to read your mind.

“I read all about fractured sternum on the plane, are you in pain even to breathe?” your voice came out shaky.

“It's not so bad now that you're here,” he said with a small smile, inhaling the scent of your hair as your arms caressed his back.

“I'm sorry for not being here last week. I'm so sorry about the end Matt. You deserved so much. I'm so proud of you” he adjusts to hear the words, feeling so close to the Stanley and still losing was an open wound, and you knew it would take time to heal.

“I'm glad you're here now. I'm going to need a lot of petting,” he said with a pout, pulling back a little to look at you, running a finger down your cheek to wipe away a dripping tear, “and I need help shaving, I don't trust Brady with anything sharp.”

"Hey!" Brady complained, still finishing his cereal.

“That reminds me” you walk away from Matt approaching the younger brother, depositing a cracking slap on his arm.

"Hey! This hurt!” the big hockey player massaged his arm.

“How did you let him play injured Braeden Tkachuk!?!?”

"He plays hurt and I'm the one who gets beat up???"

"But of course! We are a team! You are responsible for taking care of him when I am away!!”

"That's right Brady, you should take care of me" Matthew teases him.

“You're lucky you're hurt, otherwise I'd punch you” he replies gruffly.

You let out a sigh, the dynamic of this family always entertained you.

“Come on, love, I'll take care of you” You approached Matthew, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw, and he returned one on the top of your head.

“Can you shave my beard?”

"Yes my love“

“Can I have a mustache?”

"No."

#matthew tkachuk #matty tkachuk #brady tkachuk #nhl #nhl fic #florida panthers #nhl fanfiction #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk fanfic #mat barzal #quinn hughes #jack hughes #trevor zegras

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oleander-nin · 9 months

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Writing advice(hopefully)

I TAKE EVERYTHING BACK I SAID I DO HAVE A METHOD TO WRITING. I JUST DIDN'T REALIZE IT WAS A METHOD BECAUSE I'VE DONE IT FOR SO LONG.

advice under cut

Before you write something, flesh the ENTIRE thing out. I don't mean like kinda do a couple word summary, I mean write the basics before you write how the basics go together. You want to write about a picnic? Flesh out things they might say during it, what their bringing, who's making the food, etc etc.

Examples from my own writing doc for my most recent posted fic->

As you can see, it's long, and tells me most of what I need. It's also not organized, and many things are misspelled or grammatically incorrect. This is because my main goal was to get a basic plan out, not to make it look pretty. I also had three slightly different ideas I could go with before deciding on which I wanted. The more you have down, the easier it will be. I also color code mine, but that's not necessary, it's just ease of use. I can explain my color coding if needed, but I won't until asked.

2. Write in chunks. Do you have that really specific scenario already planned out? Write it first. You can make the rest around it, but once you get at least that small bit out, the rest can come naturally.

3. Keep yourself occupied. I get bored easily if I'm just writing, so I have to be doing other things at the same time. Just make sure it's something simple so you don't get distracted. I personally use my cat as to keep my stimulated(?) enough to continue. You could mimic something like this by putting on music/shows in the background, or writing multiple fics at once.

4. Don't force yourself if you can. I know I said I do earlier, but that was mostly a joke. I write to deal with stress, so writing in itself calms me down. It's difficult to do something if I'm not perfectly in tune with it. If a request is proving to be difficult, or an idea isn't doin what you want, change it up a bit until it fits into the puzzle better. You'd rather have a changed fic than no fic.

5. Use prompt generators for ideas if you're stuck. I personally have a big tin of cookie fortunes and verbs/nouns so I pick two up and create a story around that. It helps get your brain going. And you can keep doing this until something sparks.

6. Stay as focused as you can. Close other tabs, keep your eyes on your writing, stuff like that. I know this may seem to conflict with the 'keeping yourself occupied' one, but you really have to find the right balance for you. For example, I can't have music playing, but I CAN talk to other people while I write. Play around until you find your zone.

7. Try not to edit as you go. It's okay to fix a word or two as needed, but once something takes over 5 minutes to fix, you should skip it and move on. Your main goal should be able to get it all down so you have something to edit eventually.

8. If you forget a word, don't dwell on it too much. Just put something as a safeholder(ie: Elephant, Jumanji, etc), highlight it, and move on. You can shoot a friend a text to help find the word, but don't stress if nothing matches what you're thinking of. You can figure it out after, or find a new word.

9. If you get stuck while writing, go back about three to five sentences and read it over. See if you can continue going, or find what you need to change. It doesn't have to be a huge change, it just has to be enough to get you going again. And if you can't figure it out? Skip it and write the rest and figure out the transition later.

10. Use references throughout you're writing. Whether it's on the world, injuries, dialogue, emotion portrayal, or anything in between, do research and find references. It can help make connections in your brain as well as make it easier to write. For many fanfics, if you look up the fandom's wiki, their personalities will be included in their character's article.

I think that's it for now, I might add more later. I really hope this make an inkling of sense, I got frustrated after Tumblr deleted half of what I wrote the first time around. Apologies for the rambles, I am neither good with words, neither with explaining myself in a coherent manner. If anyone needs/wants extra clarification, don't be shy to ask. And my sincerest apologies for not saying this in a reblog @itsyagurlchip, but it was starting to get long and I hate how you can't collapse reblogs so I put it here. If you need me to, I can copypaste and put it as a reblog.

#writing help #creative writing #writing advice

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fanfictionalraven · 2 months

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Piece by Piece Pt. 4

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 4

Summary: Dean struggles with his looming decision.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, original characters

Word Count: 3,288

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 3 here.

You finally manage to pull yourself up from the front porch steps and go back into the house. It was an absolute mess and you needed something to do. So you set about fixing your home. You set the shredded couch cushions aside, deciding to try and repair them later. You turn the coffee table right side up and return the magazines and flowers to their original spot. You struggle to pull the knife out of the wall and it finally budges, letting the bloodstained note fall to the ground. Crumpling it up quickly, you throw it away before dropping the knife in the sink. You’re in the process of scrubbing the blood off the wall when your phone rings. Dean. You close your eyes and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You ask quietly.

“Hey, we’ve got them,” Dean answers from the other end of the line. You let out a breath and throw your hand over your mouth quickly.

“Are they okay?” You ask.

“They’re both fine. Tina’s unconscious so we’re gonna take her to the hospital,” he tells you. You nod, tossing the rag you’d been working with aside.

“Okay. I’m coming too,” you tell him, rushing to pick up your purse.

“We’ll meet you there,” Dean says before hanging up. You drop your phone into your purse before running out to your car. You fight tears as you fumble with your key, trying to stick it in the ignition. You stop and lay your head against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a minute to cry. M.K. was safe. Tina was safe. The monster no longer had them. Dean and Sam did and they were safe. You look over at the birthday cake still sitting in the passenger seat and smile a little. She’d get to have her birthday cake after all.

Once you’ve calmed yourself down, you’re finally able to get the car started. The drive to the hospital feels longer than it ever has despite there being little traffic on the road. Once you finally make it to the hospital, you park your car next to the Impala and, before going inside, you call Tina’s mom. It’s a difficult conversation to have. She’s your best friend and you hate lying to her, but you know you can’t tell her the whole truth. So you give her half-truths instead. She was taken by the killer but the F.B.I had found them. She lets you go, making her own way to the hospital now.

You rush into the emergency entrance and find Sam in the waiting room. A surge of panic rushes through you at the sight of him by himself. He stands when he sees you making your way over to him. He smiles, reassuringly, and places his hands on your shoulders, recognizing the look on your face.

“M.K.’s fine. Dean asked them to check her out too just to be sure and she didn’t want to go back by herself,” he explains. You sigh and nod before throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, Sam. I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” you tell him. He lets out a laugh, returning the hug.

“She’s my niece, Y/N. You don’t have to repay me,” he says. You nod, looking up at him.

“Well, still. Why don’t you and Dean stay the night with us? A nice comfy bed, instead of the cheap motel I’m sure you’re planning to stay at. We’ve got birthday cake and I’m sure M.K. would love having you both there,” you say, trying to persuade him. He laughs again and nods.

“You had me at comfy bed,” he says. You smile then bite your lip.

“Will Dean go for it?” You ask. Sam smirks slightly and shrugs.

“Just have M.K. pout at him and he’ll melt,” he says. You raise an eyebrow but before you can question him…

“Momma!!” You hear M.K. call, joyously. You turn on your heels just as Dean steps through the door with her on his hip. She’s clutching a bear you’ve never seen before in one arm, the other wrapped tight around Dean’s neck. It was a sight you’d only ever dreamed of seeing. Father and daughter together at last. He sets her down and you nearly fall to your knees, holding your arms open for her. She bounds into your arms and wraps her own around you tight. You hold onto her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Momma, you’re crushing me,” she laughs.

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl,” you say, letting her go. “What’s this?” You ask, pulling at the bear’s hat slightly. M.K. smiles widely and looks back at Dean. He smiles and sticks his hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor. “I see.”

“Well, Dean,” Sam starts. The older Winchester looks up at his brother. “Y/N has graciously offered to let us stay with them tonight.” Dean’s eyes widen slightly and M.K. spins around on him quickly.

“Please!! We can have birthday cake!! It would be the best birthday ever if you came over!!” She says, bouncing slightly. You watch in amazement as his resolve melts away instantly before he nods.

“Yea, sounds good. I love birthday cake,” he says with a wink. M.K. squeals and runs over, wrapping her arms around his legs again. You look up at Sam and he nods.

“Told ya,” he mouths. You bite back a laugh before rising to your feet. “How about – M.K. and I go back to the motel and pick up our stuff?”

“Okay!!” She says, looking back at Sam. You turn to Sam, pulling your wallet out.

“I know I’m starving and I’m sure everyone else is. Why don’t you pick up something to eat too?” You suggest, handing him some cash. He takes it and nods, before holding a hand out for M.K.

“Sounds like a plan. What should we get, Birthday Girl?” He asks. She runs to him, clasping his large hand with her tiny one.

“Bacon cheeseburgers!!” She says. Sam snorts and looks at Dean as they start to leave the waiting room.

“Who knew a love of cholesterol was genetic?” He asks. Dean rolls his eyes and tosses the Impala’s keys to Sam quickly. You watch Sam and M.K. leave and shake your head slightly. They both already loved and adored her more than you could have ever imagined possible.

“You okay?” Dean asks, pulling you from your thoughts. You smile at him and nod.

“I’m good. You know you didn’t have to get her anything,” you tell him, sitting in one of the chairs. He shrugs, falling into the one next to you.

“Didn’t feel right showing up empty handed tonight,” he says. You look at him and smile.

“So you were still planning on coming to dinner?” You ask him. He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw. Your smile falls slightly. “You’d changed your mind.”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I didn’t change my mind. I was just starting to panic when you called. Look, Y/N, I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. And she’s got these huge expectations,” he starts. You reach over, placing your hand on his.

“Dean, it’s okay. I get that this is a lot to take in in one day. I really do,” you tell him. He nods and you bite your lip, watching him. He turns his hand over, interlocking your fingers.

“I’ve got so many questions and no idea where to start,” he admits. You let out a laugh and nod slightly. “What are we waiting for?” He asks, looking up at you.

“Tina’s mom, Lily. She’s my best friend. I can’t just leave her daughter here alone,” you say. He nods and looks around the waiting room. There’s a long silence as Dean appears to be sorting his thoughts. His thumb rubs absentmindedly across the back of your hand.

“Did they know you were pregnant?” He finally asks. You shake your head, looking at your hand in his.

“No. I found out about a month before I graduated. I didn’t know what they would do if they found out so I kept it to myself. Met with my social worker after graduation and she tried to get me to give her up. Do exactly what my mother did. Told me it would be too hard to have a baby and go to school. We’d both be better off,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and you shrug.

“Did you ever think about it?” He asks. You smile and shake your head.

“Never,” you pause and let out a laugh. “And it was really, freaking hard. I gave birth in the middle of my first semester of school and I was just about to flunk out when I met Lily. She started keeping M.K. for me and helped me study. She was a lifesaver.”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. If I had known, I swear, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head.

“I know, Dean,” you say softly. He looks at you and you’re surprised to find a sadness in his eyes. You reach up, placing your other hand against his cheek. He smiles a little when you do.

“Why didn’t you find someone else?” He asks. You smile at that.

“It’s not exactly easy for a single mother to get a date. I can’t just go out to have fun. I don’t even want to, really. And I’m not just looking for someone for me. He has to be right for M.K. too,” you tell him. “There have been a couple of men over the past few years. Good men that I thought would turn into something but they never did for different reasons.” He watches your face for a moment, as though he’s struggling to say something. He looks over at an empty chair as you watch him.

“You name her after Mom?” He asks.

“I did. I thought about giving her your last name but decided it would be easier logistically for her to have mine instead. But I did want her to have some part of you. I tossed around the idea of Deanna but I liked Mary better,” you tell him. He smiles and nods, a distant look in his eyes.

“She would have liked that,” he says. You smile and squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I like it. It fits her.” He brings your hand up and kisses the back of it lightly.

“Y/N!!” A voice calls from the door of the waiting room. You look up quickly and find your best friend, rushing towards you frantically. You and Dean both rise, his hand dropping yours before you pull Lily into a hug.

“I’m so sorry Lily. This is all my fault,” you tell her. She returns the embrace, shaking her head.

“Of course it isn’t!!” She says. She pushes you back by your shoulders. “How is she?” She asks. You look back at Dean and he smiles.

“She’s fine. She was unconscious when we brought her in but last I heard she’s doing fine,” he tells her, reassuringly.

“Are you the one that saved her?” She asks. Dean cuts his eyes at you briefly then nods, holding his hand out.

“Dean Winchester,” he says. Your eyes widen slightly. You hadn’t expected him to be honest about who he was. You’d expected the fake F.B.I. badge to come out and some old rock star’s name. Lily stares at him.

“Wait. Y/N’s Dean?” She asks, looking at you quickly. You blush at that and Dean chuckles.

“Guess you could say that,” he says. Lily bypasses his still outstretched hand and throws her arms around him. His eyes widen before he slowly returns the hug.

“Thank you so much, Dean!!” She says. He laughs lightly and shrugs as she lets go of him. She looks over his face for a moment before turning back to you. “You were right. He is gorgeous.”

“Lily!!” You gasp, your face heating up instantly. You catch Dean smirk slightly as he looks down at the ground.

“And M.K. does have his eyes,” she says. You shake your head and loop your arm through hers quickly.

“Dean, we’re gonna go find a nurse and figure out where Tina is,” you tell him. He looks up at you, still smiling, and nods.

“I’ll go wait at the car,” he says. You nod and fish your keys from your purse before handing them to him.

“It was nice to meet you,” Lily calls to him as you drag her from the waiting room. You stop at the nurse’s station and they give you Tina’s room number. You start to go down the hall when Lily pulls you back, stopping you. “Tee’s fine. Get out of here.”

“What?” You ask, frowning. She rolls her eyes at you.

“You’ve been waiting nearly 11 years for that man to come back into your life. And the fact that he’s here now, it’s like destiny or something. So go!!” She says, pushing you towards the entrance. You laugh and turn, hugging her quickly.

“Give Tina my love,” you tell her. She nods and hugs you back before pushing you towards the door again. You smile and walk outside into the cool night air. Dean’s leaning against the passenger side door. He stands up when he sees you coming over and pulls the door open. You stop in your tracks and he laughs.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you drive?” He asks. You smile and shake your head.

“You don’t even know where you’re going,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He rolls his eyes.

“I’m real good at following directions,” he says. You let out a laugh then slide into the passenger side of your car, moving the cake to your lap. Dean closes the door before running around to the driver’s side.

The drive back to the house is relatively quiet. You give Dean turn by turn directions and he pulls into your driveway not long later. You both get out, you picking the cake up to finally take inside. He looks over the house appreciatively as you lead the way to the front door.

“This is nice,” he says. You smile and glance at him.

“Thanks. It’s the gold key with pink nail polish on it,” you tell him. He nods and looks at the keys still in his hand. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, allowing you to walk inside first. You hear him close the door as you walk into the kitchen, turning the lights on as you go. You set the cake on the counter then turn to the sink to wash the dishes that have been waiting since last night. “Sam said you had them check M.K. out too,” you call to him.

“Yea, wasn’t entirely sure I could take a ten-year old’s word on if she was actually hurt or not,” he says, walking into the kitchen. You laugh lightly and nod as he leans against the counter opposite you. “Better safe than sorry, right?” You nod, glancing over your shoulder at him. “She was right, naturally. Which she so delicately reminded me of before we found you.”

“Sounds like her,” you say. You run the sponge over a plate slowly and watch the suds slip around. “You didn’t have to tell Lily who you were, you know.”

“Well, I figured she’d get suspicious of some F.B.I. agent hanging around all the time,” he says. The plate slips from your grasp and hits the metal sink hard, breaking in half. You reach in to grab the pieces quickly.

“Ahhh,” you gasp, pulling your now bloody hand from the water. You’d managed to cut your palm on the knife you’d forgotten was in there too. Dean’s at your side instantly, wrapping a towel around your hand. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink,” you tell him with a sigh. He nods and you move out of the way, letting him get the kit out. He sets it on the counter then lifts you up onto it as well with ease. You watch as he works on your hand, holding it over the sink to keep the blood from getting on your countertops.

“Shouldn’t need stitches. It isn’t too deep,” he says, placing some gauze over it. He starts to wrap it up and you let out a laugh.

“You’re better at this than me and I’ve been medically trained,” you tell him. He smiles and shrugs. You bite your lip as you watch him. “You know, I’m not expecting anything from you.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, glancing at you as he cuts the bandage off and tucks the edge into the wrapping.

“You said that you introduced yourself to Lily because you’d be around all the time. I don’t expect that of you. I’m not asking that. I’m not asking you to marry me or move in or pay child support or anything,” you tell him. He laughs lightly, cleaning up the first aid supplies.

“I know you’re not,” he says. He returns the kit to its place under the sink before moving to stand between your knees. “Do you want me around?”

“Of course I do. But I’m not stupid. I remember the things you said about the life you live. And I know that what we had was just one night. I’d be certifiable if I thought you would just show up at my door and stay and we’d live happily ever after. That’s insane. But that’s not to say that our one night wasn’t special. I mean, I think we have a connection that we could possibly, maybe build a relationship on some day with some work but –,” Dean’s hand comes over your mouth, stopping you mid-rant.

“Will you shut up for half a second?” He asks, smiling. You nod and bite your lip as he uncovers your mouth. His hand drops to your waist where his fingers rub slowly. “I went back to find you. It was a few years later. Sam and Dad had this huge fight. Sam left to go to college and I thought if he could have what he wanted, why couldn’t I? But you were gone and no one knew where you were or what happened to you. So, I went back to Dad and kept hunting.” You slide closer to him, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “You’ve always meant more to me than just some one night stand. That being said though, I don’t know if I can do normal.”

“I understand,” you tell him. He sighs and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

“I feel like a freakin’ seesaw. I want to be around. I want to be there for M.K. And I sure as hell don’t want you with anyone else. But I don’t know if I can stay and that isn’t fair to you two. And coming and going feels worse,” he admits. You can hear a car pulling into the driveway and cutting off. Sam and M.K. back with dinner. You lean in quickly and press your lips against Dean’s in a short, chaste kiss.

“Just think about it. I know what it’s like to have you for one night then spend the next 10 years wondering where you are,” you tell him. He nods slightly and takes a step back as the front door opens. You jump down from the counter just as M.K. comes running into the kitchen, the bear still in her arms.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 5 here.

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #dad!dean

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lambertdiary · 8 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

"Sorry Won't Fix This" Masterlist

A/N: So I posted part two a couple of days ago and I had a few people asking for a part three, and I'm not gonna lie... I got a little carried away lol, so definitely I'll post a part 4. This was really fun to write and hopefully it'll be fun for you guys to read it! PLEASE let me know what you think 🫶🏻 Also I was watching an Andrew Garfield movie so keep that in mind.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: angst, language, jealousy, Dalton being shitty (again)

MASTERLIST ✩ SEND ME A REQUEST

After Dalton left, Y/N just stared at the door trying to hold her tears in. She was doing a good job, until Chris walked through the door and asked her what was wrong. She broke down immediately, but Chris stayed with her comforting her all night. She cried until she couldn't anymore, and all that was left was a raging headache.

Y/N told Chris everything, she had been avoiding that subject but letting it all out made her feel a lot better. She felt bad for Chloe, she really did, but at this point she just wanted to detach herself from the whole situation and just Dalton in general, so her next step was moving on.

“You need to forget about him Y/N, he’s not worth it” Y/N nodded agreeing with her friend, but a part of her still felt like she lost someone really important.

“I know I do” She sighed deeply before continuing “I guess the last time we broke up I thought we would somehow find our way back to each other, you know?”

“Y/N, I love you and I know what you mean, but I just want you to think of all the times he did something shitty, and then tell me you still want him”

Y/N laughed a little, admitting to herself stupid her feelings were “You’re right”

“I know I am, dude. Go out, have fun and meet guys who are not gonna kiss someone else in New Year’s”

After a minute of silence, Y/N finally built up the courage to ask “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Chris asked in confusion.

“That Chloe and Dalton were like together together”

Chris thought about her answer for a moment, but ultimately decided there was no point in hiding it anymore “Sort of… I mean I knew he was getting invited to her parents’ house and hanging out with some of her friends” Y/N just nodded, a sad look still on her face “But it doesn’t matter because you’re over him now”

Chris encouraged her to go out with someone. Y/N wasn’t the type to approach a guy and ask for his number, so Chris offered to introduce her to one of her friends she thought Y/N could get along with.

She met Andrew a couple of days later, and she was surprised when they immediately hit it off. He was cute and funny and really easy to talk to, so Y/N was excited when he started to take her out on dates. They were seeing each other almost every day, and Y/N even took him to her favourite coffee shop, telling him that she got her best work done there and how it was the best coffee she ever had. He chuckled at her statement but agreed with her, sharing his love for coffee too.

⋆ ★

Dalton didn’t tell Chloe what happened that night, of course he didn’t. He kept seeing her like nothing happened and she couldn’t be happier about it.

The thing is, Chloe felt like she didn’t have him for a number of reasons, even when they started dating he was barely any special towards her. Sure, she would spend a lot of time with him and he would seek her attention, he even drew her for an art project but that was before they became a thing, and the portrait was just somewhere in his dorm.

She would go there with him and see the wall with a bunch of paintings and drawings of Y/N, and before he told her about them she had no idea they used to date, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous that she never made the wall.

So one day she decided to ask him to put it up “I’m your girlfriend now, don’t you think it’s time you put the drawing of me on your wall?”

“Uh” He looked at his art displayed on the wall, realising a lot of them were Y/N “I will” He simply replied, thinking he could maybe do it later, but the look Chloe gave him made him understand that she meant right now. So he did, he stood up and removed a few portraits, making space for the new one. He couldn’t bring himself to actually get rid of them, so he decided to just leave them on his desk. That was weeks before he told her about his past with Y/N.

The day after Y/N rejected him he concluded it was officially over, so his relationship with Chloe got a little more serious. Chloe properly introduced him to her parents, they started to have more dates and they even had ‘romantic’ weekends.

Days went by and Dalton tried his best to keep Y/N out of his mind, constantly telling himself that he was with Chloe now and that it was for the best. He wanted to be a better boyfriend for her but he sometimes forgot to put in the effort.

One day Dalton decided to get coffee after class, buying one for him and one for his girlfriend who was waiting for him in his dorm. After receiving his order, he turned around and was ready to walk out, but a familiar face stopped him.

He saw Y/N sitting at one of the tables, talking and giggling with some other guy. Dalton stared at them for a moment, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the cups he was holding. He decided it would be better if he left, but just as he started to walk again he noticed the guy stand up and make his way to the washroom.

Before he could think about it, he found himself standing in front of Y/N, giving her a questioning stare, as if she owed him any explanations.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a demanding tone.

Y/N was both surprised and annoyed at his question. She scoffed and crossed her arms, giving him a bland tone to make him feel like she didn’t care about him “What kind of question is that?”

“I know you’re here with someone, I saw him”

“Why do you care? Aren’t you still with Chloe?” Y/N asked him, pointing at the cup with her name on it. Dalton shrugged and thought about something else to say. She had a point, he was with Chloe now so he shouldn’t care, but he did “You should probably take your girlfriend her coffee, it’s gonna get cold”

“We need to talk”

“There’s nothing left to talk about”

Before Dalton could say something, someone else joined the table “Hi, I’m Andrew” He said, sitting across from Y/N.

“Dalton” He replied, pressing his lips together.

“He was just leaving” Y/N quickly added.

“Oh” Andrew immediately suspected she didn’t want him there “Well, nice to meet you man”

Dalton clenched his jaw, he didn’t say anything else and just gave them a quick nod before leaving the coffee shop. He was walking to his dorm and the whole time he wished he had said something clever to Andrew.

When he got to his dorm, he was received with a sweet hug and kiss from Chloe, telling him how much he has missed him. As usual, they sat on his bed and talked about their day before moving on to schoolwork.

“So, my birthday party is this Saturday and I was thinking we could wear the same colour” Chloe said out of nowhere.

Dalton tried to hide the fact that he forgot about her birthday “Uh- yeah, what are you wearing?”

“The dress I bought last week. I told you it was for my birthday, remember?” She asked, hurt and mad he forgot such an important detail.

He nodded his head quickly “I remember baby, I’m sorry” Dalton brought her closer to him and gave her a reassuring kiss “We’ll both look phenomenal in pink”

⋆ ★

Y/N wasn’t surprised to see Dalton, it was impossible to avoid him completely given they lived in the same building, but anytime they saw each other they just pretended the other didn’t exist, it was working just fine for Dalton until he saw her with someone else.

Her feelings towards him definitely changed, while she still felt like she lost someone important to her, she was also disappointed at how much he had changed since the party, so they were a mix of many different things. Often she couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if she tried harder when they were together, but at the same time she resented him for not always showing that he loved her the way she wanted him to.

“How long do we have to wait?” Andrew asked, holding his hair away from his forehead so the face mask wouldn’t stick to it.

“About 20 minutes” Y/N was smiling down at him, finishing up with the thick paste on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes and smiled back at her “Do you have like a hair thing I can borrow?”

Y/N chuckled and reached for another headband, carefully sticking all of his hair back “This is a great look on you” She joked.

They laughed as he looked at himself in the tiny mirror “I guess you’ll have to style me more often”

“I mean, you already look great all the time so I don’t think you need my help”

She watched as his smile went shy, almost sure he was blushing under the face mask. Andrew handed her the mirror and she put it back in a small vase that had a few makeup brushes in it.

“Did you make that?” Andrew asked, paying close attention to the drawings on it, recognising Y/N’s favourite flowers.

“The vase?” She asked and he nodded “Yeah, last year in a pottery class”

“A pottery class?”

“Yeah. I mean, I only went like 3 times but this is great, isn’t it?” She picked it up and examined it. It had been a long time since she did.

“May I?” Andrew grabbed it and looked at all the different colours on it “And you drew these?” He asked, pointing at the beautifully painted flowers.

“Not really, my- uh friend helped me with those, but I still did most of the job” She clarified.

“Oh…” He faked disappointment “And you had me over here thinking you were an artist”

She scoffed playfully as he took the vase from him “I am, did you see the one at the bottom?” Y/N showed him a smudged spot of paint that looked like it was supposed to be a flower “You wouldn’t get it, it’s abstract art” Andrew gave her a frisky look that made her blush “Are you an artist?”

“Born to be but my lack of skills didn’t allow it, very tragic” Y/N giggled at his dramatics as she scooted closer to him “I can’t really draw… I mean I can, but it’s not very good” Andrew laughed “Why? Do you have a thing for artists?

A strange feeling took over her heart, but she just shook her head and forced a smile “No, just for guys that look good in headbands” She teased. Andrew felt his face get hot again and an impulse made him lean over, getting really close to her face but Y/N stopped him.

“You don’t wanna taste this face mask, it’s gonna linger for days” Andrew shrugged his shoulders and took a quick look at her lips, and then back at her eyes.

“You already have that effect on me”

Y/N was speechless. For a moment they stared at each other intensely, Y/N almost gave in, but the door swinging open made both of them jump.

“Oh- sorry to interrupt” Chris said slowly, dropping her things on her bed.

They turned red and quickly got away from each other, trying to cover their embarrassment “You didn’t, we’re just doing face masks”

“Without me?” Chris joked.

The three of them stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, and as soon as Andrew left Chris couldn’t help but tease Y/N about what she almost witnessed.

“So, I see you two are really getting along”

“I guess” Y/N replied, unsure of how to feel.

“What? Do you not like him?”

“I do… I think I do” She stopped to think about it for a moment “It’s been great but honestly i don’t know if I can take it any further”

“Y/N he’s like perfect for you” Chris stared at her friend, waiting for an explanation “Why not?”

“Because he’s not Dalton”

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fanfic #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert angst #dalton lambert fluff #insidious #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #ty simpkins

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: IV

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader

Chapter 3

Morpheus and Taliesin put their plan into action, and a storm god learns to dream.

Warnings: language, choking

A/N: First of all, this is BARELY edited, so I may come back and fix it later, but I wanted to get something posted tonight for personal reasons (that I'll discuss in a separate post). Secondly, you all continue to blow me away! I'm so happy to share this story with you, and I hope you enjoy as we slip into the next phase of the journey.

I definitely see/hear Taliesin as Michael Sheen, just in case you need a face.

The one-shot/new fic contest is complete, and the first will appear in the next few days. Super excited, so stay tuned for more details (and stories).

Chapter 4: This is an Intervention, Darling

She breathed in the endless dark, asleep but not dreaming.

Though it was kinder than the last visions she endured, it wasn’t pleasant. The hollow dark held her as she waited to wake, and the collar waited with her. Even in a space lacking all form, and barely aware as she was, the curse still whispered into place, chafing over old scars and biting into flesh gone soft. Once upon a time, she had callouses to protect the edge of her jaw, her chin, the tender places where neck and shoulder joined. But her dreaming self had no defenses, and she suffered fresh pains every time she surrendered consciousness.

She didn’t need the Nightmare King’s persecution to suffer.

Caught in the sticky dark of her subconscious, she had no idea of time. Maybe she rested a few minutes. Maybe days. The collar flexed, but it let her breathe when she kept still, and she had nothing to reach for.

It dawned on her – this might be the Nightmare King’s punishment. He’d promised kinder dreams, but she knew the shades of grey in every bargain, and this limbo fulfilled his words. With his sand locking her away from the waking world, he could leave her body to rot. She could die and stay trapped in his purgatory, wearing her collar forever.

She didn’t understand why, but her fear rushed to assure her the idea had weight. He didn’t need a good reason to punish her. Kings never needed a good reason, barely even an excuse.

The collar reacted, cinching tight until her breaths wheezed desperately through the empty nothing. Would it last forever? Would she fade alone? Could she suffer enough to satisfy them all – the dead fae king, the collar, the Endless?

If she’d learned anything, it was that she could always hurt just a little more.

“Oh, my little darling.”

The voice pressed through the shadowed fog like a touch, more sensation than sound. She felt the words and the warm voice behind them.

“How is she this far gone? Even if… she should still be eating, but she’s so thin.”

Her body gathered weight, remembered gravity, and a palm lined with musician’s callouses held her cheek. Smoke from a fire and rain on the window pulled her back to her senses, and she slowly blinked awake to find Taliesin’s bright, worried eyes anticipating her focus.

“There we are.” His thumb swept back and forth across her cheek, smoothing away the tears she’d shed in her sleep. A glittering rim of his own tears hung along his lashes, threatening to spill over, and she tried to reach out and comfort him.

But her arm was too heavy. She couldn’t move under the weight of familiar blankets piled over her.

She couldn’t even move her head, which felt impossibly dense, but she looked past her friend – to the fire she smelled and the rain she heard. She knew them. It was her cottage, the quiet home she’d abandoned after Dream’s shadow threatened to swallow her on the shores of the Dreaming.

“Home?”

“Yes.” Taliesin smiled. His voice trembled as he continued petting her, touching her like he could make everything better for everyone if he just kept holding her hand, stroking her cheek. “I used the key you gave me. You’re all safe and cwtched up on the couch. Everything’s going to be alright.”

But she’d been in the waking world. Hiding. And the Nightmare King had -

A sharp breath, she jerked the final inches to full consciousness, and jolted up. Fear made a potent stimulant.

And there he was, near the door, taller than the entrance, looking down on her with passive disdain that could flare into rage without warning.

Taliesin pushed her back down into the couch, pinning her into the cushions by the shoulders. Her hands flattened over his, trying to translate the threat with nothing but winded gasps and wide eyes. He shushed her, twisting his hands to hold hers once she stopped struggling. All the while, he kept murmuring assurances.

“He isn’t going to hurt you. No one’s going to hurt you. It’s safe. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen. Can you hear me? Can you trust me?”

“I trust you,” she gasped. She didn’t necessarily believe him, but she trusted him.

“Good, good.” Stroking the sweaty hair off her face, he looked towards the Nightmare King. The back of the couch blocked him from view, but at Taliesin’s signal, he deigned to approach the fire.

As he stepped into the flickering light, his eyes fixed on her again, and Taliesin felt her quaking in his grip.

“He’s going to help.” Taliesin pet her hair faster, burning off nervous energy. “We’re going to get the collar off of you.”

It would be the perfect moment for the King of Dreams to contradict the bard, raise his hand, and end them both. To invite nightmares into her home or fill their lungs with his sand. But he did none of those things. When he understood she was watching for his reaction, he offered the faintest nod, something so shallow it could’ve been mistaken as a trick of the light by anyone watching less closely.

“Why?”

She couldn’t trust him until she understood his motives. Mortal, fae, or Endless, the desires of the powerful mattered most, and he wanted something to do with her, something that required keeping her alive.

She couldn’t understand what he wanted when he advanced on her in the apartment, why he forced her to relive the worst of her past. This sounded like an answer. Something she may even believe. He’d thanked her for returning Matthew, and she knew he didn’t like the collar. He’d said as much. Maybe she could finally breathe easy – while she was awake, at least – if he offered a path forward, a plan, some future with intent and goals clearly communicated and understood.

Taliesin knew the question wasn’t directed to him, and he kept his own counsel as the Nightmare King considered. But he listened very, very carefully.

Heavy drops struck the window, and the ceiling rumbled with the storm’s percussion. But the thunder remained distant, an echo of fears Taliesin soothed with hands and words and warm blankets. Dream of the Endless tilted his head, ever so slightly, listening to both woman and weather.

“The bard speaks truly.” His voice felt like the dark clouds heralding a storm. Ominous and heavy with promise, but soft. “I mean you no harm, and we have entered an agreement to end the curse’s hold over you in order to protect the Dreaming.”

Yes, she could understand. He didn’t hunt her anymore; he hunted the magic that had so insulted him. Her hand rose to her neck, happy to find a scarf, but well aware of the horrors beneath.

“Taliesin?”

“Yes.” He squeezed her hand with a watery smile. “I volunteered, and I’m staying to take care of you until this is over.” Fingers traced the back of her wrist, over the scarf. “Until you’re free.”

“Taliesin.”

“Yes?”

She felt so much, and she had nothing left to cope with the relief, which weighed even heavier than the fear. Her voice came soft and small, like the child he would always see in her. “I’m very tired.”

He laughed, and she could hear all the tears and snot he’d swallowed in his voice. “I know you are. Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

It felt like her mind was slowly turning into lead. Heavy and malleable, it dragged her down into a place where only dreams and a persistent curse could find her.

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

Taliesin watched her slip under, felt her hand go slack, and released a wavering sigh. How close did he come to losing her this time? Failing her? He couldn’t stomach the thought. Literally, his stomach turned and he swallowed down bile as he looked at his poor, starving rain cloud.

He sorted through his guilt with cautious hands, pulling up the blankets around her shoulders, ensuring the scarf wouldn’t strangle her if she turned – petting, and tutting, and generally making a fool of himself in front of the Dream Lord.

Well, let him look. This was his fault, too.

Matthew the raven spoke to him while his master followed Taliesin’s spell to the storm god’s hideaway. If Taliesin was a fool, he wasn’t the only one, and he at least had the good sense to acknowledge his mistakes. No wonder she’d fled. No wonder she’d snarled and clawed against sleep like her dreams were coming to kill her.

“Let her rest this time,” he said, eyes still on his friend.

“She is… weakened.”

It could almost be an admission of guilt, but only in the right context, only when held up to a waning moon in the first quarter on the seventh of June and tilted just so.

“She’s strong,” he corrected, finally looking over at the gaunt lord in the shadows. “Something is very wrong. The potion couldn’t have caused so much damage so quickly.”

Lord Morpheus straightened, and Taliesin was grateful he took the concern seriously. They’d need to trust each other to achieve their aims.

“You believe the collar is responsible.”

Even with the scarf, Taliesin could see the filigree edge of old scars above the fabric. Compared to the worst marks on her neck, they were nothing. He only noticed them because he knew where to look, what to look for, but his rain cloud couldn’t hide them all, no matter how hard she tried.

“I think it’s feeding on her.” He closed his eyes, giving his hope free reign to wrestle down his obvious faults. Punishing himself wouldn’t help his rain cloud, and she needed him. “I think it has been for a very long time.” He dropped his head. “And I didn’t even notice.”

What could she be, he wondered, without that curse? How far could she fly when a dead man’s will wasn’t choking the life from her?

The Dream Lord stepped closer, peering into the sleeping face of his raven’s savior. Taliesin couldn’t read the thoughts behind those star-bright eyes, but he practically heard them ticking over.

“If it can feast on the life of a demi-god,” he murmured, “it is indeed a threat to the Dreaming.”

“Glad to hear you’re invested in its destruction, then. So long as you’re equally invested in her preservation.”

“As I have said – ”

“You’ve made no promises and said precious little.” Taliesin stayed on his knees, embracing the position of a humble supplicant without surrendering to the king’s mercy entirely. Their tentative arrangement would only hold as long as they stayed honest. Forthright. No easy thing for a king. “You’re a monarch. I have served many, though few as seasoned as you. It is your right and your role to protect your domain, but I would remind you, Dream of the Endless, that whatever else my little storm cloud may be, she is a dreamer, and as such, she is under your protection.”

Lord Morpheus’s face shuttered, but not before a frown plucked his lips just a little lower and his brows pinched close.

Taliesin had given him something to ponder.

Finished with the king for the moment, the bard returned to his watch over the sleeping storm god, listening to the rhythm of rain on the window to ensure her dreams were easy. He had nowhere better to be, and nothing he’d rather do than keep her snug and comfortable in her world apart.

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As the storm god slept, Dream wandered the library. His eyes raked the endless shelves, looking for nothing in particular, hoping for every answer to his half-formed questions. It was not a task with which Lucienne could assist, though he hoped she could aid the bard in his quest for understanding.

Taliesin would come to the Dreaming when the girl woke, after he’d gathered information to guide their research from her next dream. The man took his vigil seriously and wouldn’t leave her side while she rested, defenseless, even in her own little realm. The bard’s words had given him pause, and though Morpheus hadn’t intended to harm the man’s rain cloud, he did make a point. And he had more interest in her future than the bard knew.

Had they cleared the crossroads?

He doubted it. Perhaps he’d pulled her back to a shared path, but he did not know where it led, and she did not stand at the crossroads alone. Some great doom still lurked ahead, and it would benefit them all if the demi-god walking the road beside him didn’t flinch at his shadow.

Matthew flapped down the aisle, falling naturally into step with his master.

“How’s the storm god?” he asked. “You find her?”

“Found and retrieved.” His eye didn’t leave the books, though his mind continued wandering. “She is in her realm with the bard. Asleep. At last.”

Matthew croaked approvingly, hopping by Morpheus’s boots. “You talk? She get it? She not scared of you now?”

If only it were so easy. She was a broken thing. The bard’s panic told him more than the starved body in his arms or the snarling storm she’d called to frighten him away. He knew the way of damaged creatures, but in the Dreaming, he could fix them – imperfect nightmares, shattered dreams. He could chase away night terrors from overwrought sleepers and ease their rest.

He’d broken things as well. He’d become the night terror and twisted the petty minds of mortals until they warped and bent to new and terrible shapes. But in this case, he had not meant the hurt he inflicted, and he must fix it to fulfil his function.

“We spoke, but we will have to see if she has conquered her fear when she next dreams.”

Clinging to a shelf a few feet ahead, the bird angled his head, like he needed a thought to tumble into a better position before he could voice it.

“Do you… want… ideas?”

“For what, Matthew?”

The bird sighed, fluttering to his next perch as Dream strolled past him, determined in his pointless search.

“For, I don’t know, starting off on the right foot? Scaring her just a little less this time?”

“Her fear is her own challenge to overcome.”

“Sure. But what about something new? The bard said she doesn’t sleep much. Always has nightmares. I get you need to study the collar, but if you throw her off with some kind of distraction first, she may let you get close enough to – you know – do that.”

Morpheus raised an eyebrow, pausing to give the bird the attention he clearly craved. “A distraction?”

“Dreams get weird sometimes. If she’s trying to understand what she’s experiencing, she’ll have a lot less bandwidth for panic.”

“It is an idea,” he said. “Perhaps.” Continuing through the library, he wondered what could distract the desperate little storm god from her fear of him.

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“Good morning.”

She woke again to Taliesin’s face, beaming without tears this time. He’d pulled up a chair beside the couch so he could keep hold of her hand without losing all feeling in his legs. An open book balanced on his knee, and a cup of tea sat on the end table at his elbow.

“Is it really morning?” The words felt gummy, and she licked her lips, cringing at the stale taste of a long sleep.

“It’s your world, so it’s any time you want it to be.”

The blankets held her down comfortably, and the couch felt better than she remembered. The beds in the hostels and bedsits must’ve been worse than she realized. Not that she used them often.

“How long was I asleep?”

Taliesin pursed his lips, glancing away to the naked beams along the ceiling, like he’d find a calendar there. “Three days, give or take.”

“Wow. Fuck.” She let go of his hand, bending up in an enormous stretch – fingers and toes splayed, every joint popping.

Taliesin patted her knee through the covers in time with his words. “You did very well, and I’m very proud of you.”

Frankly, she didn’t know what to do with his praise. Never had. She spent too long learning when one hand offered a gift, the other delivered a slap. Taliesin would never hurt her. She knew that. She held both truths in her heart, and they fought each other.

She kicked off the blankets to sit up and change the topic. But she moved too quickly, and her head spun.

“Steady.” Taliesin balanced her by the shoulders, waiting for her hand on his wrist – a gentle signal to let go. “You’ve slept, but now you need food.”

She wanted to argue purely for the sake of her dignity. He was in her home, and technically her guest, but he was bustling about, moving furniture, and fetching soup he’d made in a pot over the fire like their roles were reversed. But if sitting up made her dizzy, she didn’t want to guess how jumping to her feet would feel. He meant well. He was trustworthy. She’d settle for petulant glares.

When he returned with a bowl of broth and lifted the spoon for her, though, she drew the line.

“If you try to spoon-feed me, I will bite you.”

Taliesin grinned, returning the spoon to the bowl as ordered. “There’s my rain cloud.”

With a pillow in her lap to support the bowl, she managed to feed herself perfectly well. Taliesin hovered, ready to intervene if the bowl shifted to an angle he didn’t like, but she didn’t spill it, and she returned the empty crockery with entirely too much pride.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For?” The high, drawn-out word demanded more.

“The soup.”

“And?” He used the same tone. Now that she was fed and rested, he’d be taking his pound of flesh from her hide.

She ducked her head, muttering at her knees as she traces vague shapes in the pillow over her lap.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” He took a seat beside her on the couch, warm and solid but demanding, too.

“I should’ve… let you know…”

“That you were on the run from Lord Morpheus? That you were letting the potion kill you? That you only slept once in the three months prior to our meeting? Why, yes! You should have.”

“Sorry.” And she was sorry that she worried him, that he had to get involved. She was grateful to be breathing, too. But she couldn’t muster the right attitude to really apologize for it all. She had too much respect for her sense of self-preservation. It had kept her alive too many times before.

Taliesin shifted closer, so their shoulders pressed together, and took her hands to hold between his roughened palms. “I’m not blaming you. He’s terrifying. I am stopping you. This is an intervention, darling. You are very trustworthy with other people. You are not so trustworthy when it comes to your own needs.”

This time, she prepared to argue. She even opened her mouth. But Taliesin just lifted his eyebrows and her valiant defense of her questionable life choices evaporated. Instead, she cleared her throat, breaking eye contact like a coward. He won the round. He won the war, really.

That was okay.

No storm raged. Precious little rain fell. Only the rare tear of condensation rolled down the windowpanes, and the precipitation was easiest to see in the puddles, where tiny drops echoed out in perfect circles over the gray sky’s reflection.

She did eventually manage to stand without help, and Taliesin let her clean herself up in the cottage’s little bathroom after her three-day nap. But after that, she had to sit again. He brought more soup, and she slowly finished the second bowl, stomach uncomfortably full. It was like a stiff muscle, he explained, and she’d only reclaim full function if she was willing to suffer a little. The vague ache didn’t even count as suffering, as far as she was concerned.

Eventually, the hazy grey sky turned orange and red. Her pocket world had no cardinal directions, and the colors ringed the horizon. They watched the blue evening creep in together, tea in hand, until she felt drowsy again. When Taliesin ushered her back to the couch, she groused, “I just woke up.”

“You’re healing.”

He didn’t go back to his chair, but sat at the far end of the couch, settling pillows along his knees and hip. She wondered – with a frisson of fear up her spine – what horrible thing he thought she would need so much comfort over. But she’d missed touch, and warmth, and comfort from someone else’s arms, so she curled up with her head on his lap anyway.

As he arranged the blanket to better cover her shoulders, he said, “Lord Morpheus will meet you in your dreams this time.”

She froze, and his hand wandered up to her hair, keeping contact as he reminded her by touch of his presence. He was her sentry, a guard against anything and everything if she’d let him.

“None of us understands why the collar manifests in the Dreaming,” he continued, “but he wants it gone, and that’s good for us. For you. To be painfully blunt, he could kill you in the waking world and never worry about the damn thing slipping into your dreams ever again, but he hasn’t, and that tells me we can trust him.”

He gave her time to process, but he didn’t allow time to spiral back into mindless fear. “Do you trust my judgement, rain cloud?”

She shifted, trying to find a position that would force her heart to slow down. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad. All you have to do is sleep.”

“What if he takes me back to the grove?” Her face felt hot, and her voice sounded wet. In another minute she’d be crying into the pillow. “I can’t go through that again.”

His hand froze for a moment, but he recovered quickly, brushing away her anxieties with a level head and steady tone. “He won’t. He didn’t find what he needed there. But if he tries, tell him no.”

Snorting, she rolled over to hide her face in the back of the couch. “Like that would stop him.”

“It had better.”

Iron underlined those words, and that was the most comforting thing she’d heard all day. Taliesin would go to war over her, would face up against an Endless to keep her sane. If Taliesin wasn’t afraid of a fight, then she had nothing to worry about.

“Okay.”

He hummed. “Okay.”

After the jolt of adrenaline he’d caused, it took a while to drift off. She stared into the fire until the wavering flames hypnotized her, listening to Taliesin’s old Welsh lullabies as she tried to find her way to the gentle, heavy feeling that marked the gates of sleep. Every time she came close, the path veered, and she found herself staring into the flames again, twitching towards consciousness and Taliesin’s voice.

But, eventually, guided by fatigue, she drifted away from the warm cottage and the careful hand. The collar grew into place, and she slipped into a waiting dream.

A quarter moon peeped between the trees. The nocturnal forest shone bright as day to her sensitive eyes, and she stretched to feel her claws sink into the loam. Grey paws all but disappeared into the shadows, and her ears perked at the susurrus of wind and small animals creeping through the leaves. She’d been still for too long – in all shapes – and she pounced after the first dry leaf to tumble past. It crunched beneath her with a smell like the sleeping death of late autumn, and she lunged after another and another, batting them with abandon until a soft, red maple leaf caught on her claws.

She shook and shook her paw, but the damn thing wouldn’t come free until she ripped it away with her teeth in frustration. It did not taste as good as it smelled, and she sat up, licking her whiskers to chase away the flavor of tree.

A rumble from above startled her sideways, and she leapt on all four paws away from the sound.

Looking up, she saw an enormous cat resting in an oak with eyes brighter than the moon watching her. His gaze struck her like a car’s headlights, and she froze, the hair on her back pricking up in alarm.

“You make a clumsy cat.”

She knew the voice and the presence. When the King of Dreams leapt down from his tree, she recoiled. Her own short hiss startled her, and she cut it off with choked sound of confusion. She was a grey barn cat, and that made sense, but she was a demi-god asleep on the couch, too. As she worked through her confusion, the great cat came a step closer. She forced herself still, remembering Taliesin was with her, even if she couldn’t sense him, that he’d keep her safe and fight an Endless if he pulled the same stunt twice.

She sat, though the raised hair along her back wouldn’t fall flat again.

The Dream Lord mirrored her, peering literally down his nose, and she could tell without words that her hiss had displeased him.

At least she hadn’t run.

Yet.

“You know me, little dreamer.”

Her tail curled around her feet. “Yes.”

“And you know yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She could hear he meant it in the bright note folded around the word, and she imagined his regular shape may even have smiled. But only a little.

He rose and turned, walking into the woods. She followed the implicit command and pattered after him, keeping low, wary of his big paws and glinting claws. Tree frogs sang around them, filling the silence with a throbbing drone. For a little while, he let her trail behind him, but when they reached a clearing, he looked back for her.

“Walk beside me,” he said. “I would speak with you.”

She moved lightly through the long grass, all silvery under the moon, and wondered that the Dream Lord’s eyes didn’t cast shadows in the dark. His strides covered much more ground than her little legs could match, and she trotted to keep up with his sedate pace. Though he towered over the weeds, they swallowed her entirely, and even though she drew even with him, she couldn’t bring herself to draw any closer to his side.

He stopped, looking out over the grass with another rumble. “Are you hiding? Shall I hunt you again, little dreamer?”

The bright note hung in his voice, but even if he was teasing, any idea of the great cat with glowing eyes springing down with claws out terrified her.

“No! No.” She slunk closer, sharing the narrow track he followed, ears pressed back, belly nearly scraping the ground. “I’m right here.”

His long tail swished behind him as he studied her, unmoving. “Do you still believe I wish to harm you?”

“I don’t pretend to know what measureless depths of pain the Endless can endure,” she said, “but if you pull me back through all that one more time, I don’t think I’d survive it.”

One mighty step closer, and she dropped flat. Even though those luminous eyes had already fixed on her, every instinct insisted she make herself smaller.

He responded by lying down, literally sinking to her level.

“I find it interesting,” he said. “You do not perceive yourself as others do.”

What did that mean? She relaxed enough to lift her head, curious. “Who?”

“Your friend Taliesin dreamed of you as a kitten. A playful little thing he tried to coax out from under the steps.”

She looked at her paws again, sinking her claws into the earth just to watch them curl out from the pads. “And this is how you see me?”

“No. This is how you’ve dreamed yourself.”

Could that be right? That couldn’t be right. She’d never seen or felt things like this when she slept before. Even when the Sandman kept the nightmares back, she rested in darkness.

“But – I don’t think I know how to – dream, I mean.”

“This is a shape I chose,” he agreed. “But once I’d drawn the shape of the dream, your own mind added the details, including your vision of yourself.”

“Oh.” She relaxed a little more, dropping her chin to her paws as she watched a firefly blink above the long grass. The frogs weren’t so loud, away from the trees, and when her ears twitched around, she was sure she could hear running water. A stream. She might even smell it. “I’ve never… dreamed like this before.”

“I know.”

Slowly, telegraphing every motion, he climbed to his feet. She stood with him, calm again and ready to continue.

“There is something I would like to try.” He turned back to the path. “Follow me.”

Instead of sauntering along like before, he bounded across the meadow, and she nearly lost sight of him before she jerked into motion.

He was right. She was a clumsy cat. Clumsy and small, but she did her best. Springing over hidden logs, pouncing up to see over the grass when he drew too far ahead, winding along the shortest routes to catch up again.

The sound of water drew nearer, and she saw the edge of the meadow, where the water had worn it into a little cliff. The Dream Lord cleared it easily, leaping over the chasm without pause. She, however, had spent most of her energy over the wide meadow, taking half a dozen steps for every one of his, and she hesitated at the brink. But she couldn’t stop herself, and she threw all of her strength into her hind legs as she left the ground.

The golden collar around her neck squeezed. She flinched midair and knew she would fall short of her goal. One paw caught the bank, scratching deep into grass and loose rock that wouldn’t hold. She slipped back, heading towards waters roaring more like a raging river than a gentle stream.

And then she wasn’t falling. Teeth gently pinched the back of her neck, just below the collar. They lifted her up and away from the danger. As she dangled from the king’s mouth, he moved a few dozen yards back from the crumbling bank. Frozen, she only squeaked when he finally set her down again.

She hunkered in a cat loaf, too embarrassed to look up at him. “Sorry. I just got tired, and then the collar – ”

“Tired? In a dream?”

She blinked, at once both human and cat – and terribly confused. “Is that not supposed to happen? Don’t people rest in dreams?”

“No. Not like this.” He hadn’t backed away after he released her, and she’d been too shaken to put space between them. Coming even closer, he looked at her neck. “Taliesin told me a theory.”

He hadn’t shared it with her before she went to sleep. It must be bad, then. “What theory?”

The King of Dreams settled back on his haunches. He looked regal. Severe. “He believes it is feeding off of you. I think I agree with him.”

The collar squeezed again, like it could hear them, and she tried to paw it off without thinking. Its revenge was swift. Brutal. Thorns pierced her fur as it pulled even tighter, strangling and bleeding her as payment for her offense.

Actual animal sounds of distress peeled through the twilight dream world, and she rolled through the weeds as she struggled to free herself, to stop the pain, to breathe properly. It was a good thing they’d moved so far from the water or she’d have tumbled in.

A rumble very different from the others – more growl than purr – thundered above her, and a massive paw settled on her ribs to force her still. She could barely keep her eyes open, and she looked frantically into the patient light of the Dream King’s gaze.

“I promised you kinder dreams, little storm god. But I’m afraid this dream is over.”

A blink, and the golden eyes disappeared.

She woke in the grey pre-dawn, the fire burned to embers, Taliesin snoring with his head thrown back on the couch.

Safe. Whole.

Just as they’d promised.

Chapter 5

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #sandman fanfiction #Younger Gods #youngergods

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elliewritessncries · 4 months

Text

Invisible string | pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x (mostly)gn!reader

After many months of constant fighting Joel’s wife, Evelyn, has had enough, she runs away and leaves him and baby Sarah alone when they most need her. Sarah is barely 4 months old and even though Joel is an excellent father, he still needs help with his daughter while he works. Luckily his neighbor is more than happy to help out the now single father.

Part 2

Pre-outbreak, perhaps even no outbreak at all. Joel just turned/is about to turn 20. Young reader too. Kind of slow burn. No use of y/n. Clichés all over.

Warnings: swearing, parental abandonment. Brief mention of miscarriage. English is not my first language.

Note: I’ve been meaning to write more but I’m honestly too busy or afraid of criticism so I end up posting a chapter or two on ao3 and never coming back. But I’m on vacation and I miss tumblr so here I am.

Dividers by: firefly graphics

Sometimes, life takes turns leading you to places you never thought you'd find yourself in, but it doesn't have to be bad. That you had learned.

The first turn life took (and you were actually aware of it) was mid-college, and that one, well… It was actually a bad thing.

Two years earlier, you decided to travel across the country to study. It wasn't the most convenient thing geographically. It was a 24-hour drive without stops, but you made 32 in your parents' old van the first time they took you to see the campus, then it took you 4 days to get there with your best friend at the start of the first semester. It was a long way, which meant no Christmas vacation at home, no traveling for spring break, and an expensive plane ticket every summer that you had to pay yourself because, oh, surprise! It wasn't also the most convenient thing because money was tight at home, and Penn State wasn't cheap. Still, you wanted to go there, so your parents made an incredible effort to get you where you wanted. And a year and a half later, it wasn't viable anymore, so you dropped out and returned home to work.

The second life's turn happened when you were 20, and it came to you completely by surprise, without any involvement on your part, but still, you had to deal with the consequences.

You had been out of college for about seven months. It was mid-January, and you were walking home from work, watching the Christmas lights attached to rooftops fight the wind that threatened to rip them off and have them flying around. It was windier than usual, a chill wind that cut to the bone, perhaps foreshadowing the day's events.

When you reached home, you expected to be greeted by the warmth of home but, instead, you found it colder than the outside as your mom shouted like crazy in Spanish (a common thing in your household) at your dad, who just sat at the dining table with his head hung low (also a common thing). What wasn't expected was you and your siblings taking your mom's side as you found out the reason behind the yelling: your 52-year-old dad, the "most devoted father and husband of the community," was behind your family’s financial struggle, him and his mistress. That day, your mom sloppily packed your dad's things and threw him on the street. He didn't deserve more than that.

Life kept on going after that, kind of.

Many turns came after that day, more than you could ever count, and life was getting dizzier by the minute until a chilly day in late October that reminded you of the fateful day your dad ran out. Once again, you found yourself walking home from work, like in January, almost 8 months ago. You stopped half a block away from your house, fighting in vain with your beaten-down walkman, trying to play your tape until you heard muffled screams in a nearby house, something reminiscent of that day, too.

You didn't want to pry, but curiosity got the best of you, so you stayed there pretending to fix your things.

You knew the house belonged to the Keereys, but they hadn't lived there for a while. At the moment, a young couple rented it. You knew them too, not only because they were your neighbors but because both went to school with you, all the way from kindergarten to High School.

Evelyn and Joel Miller were high school sweethearts, together since their Freshman year, maybe before. They were a grade below you, but even going to the same school, you had never cared too much about their life and relationship, too busy with your own teenage drama and organizing prom and whatnot. Still, throughout the years, your mom and Diana Miller, Joel's mom, remained good friends, keeping you in all the gossip.

Evelyn's parents never liked Joel that much, and Joel never liked her parents, either. When she got pregnant at 17, they hated each other even more. Joel dropped out of High School and started to work to support a family that didn't come. The baby was never born, but they stayed together, even got married after turning 18, and when he thought of getting a GED to continue his education, they got pregnant again. Their baby was born mid-summer, and you and your family were invited to the baby shower but sent a present instead, too occupied with your family drama to go.

After the baby shower, Diana Miller didn't need to call your mom to update her on all of her son's problems because the young couple moved out of the Millers' house into their own (rented) home four houses down the block from yours, to receive their baby in peace. But peace was the last thing they had, with their baby crying more times than not, Evelyn wanting to opt-out, Joel trying to keep things together for the sake of their daughter, and you and your neighbors were the first ones to know about all their discussions.

Now, even with your headphones on, you could make up some of the phrases that Evelyn screamed, things about her wanting more, him not being enough, wishing for a better life, and wanting to leave once and for all. And before you could decide whether it was better to keep listening to bring fresh gossip home or leave the couple alone to their issues, the decision was made for you by an angry Evelyn getting out of the house in a hurry.

"-and I'm tired of you, and your house, and your stupid daughter that never shuts up!"

"Don't talk about her like that, Evelyn! Like it or not, she's your daughter. You can run away from her!"

"I'm not running away from her. I'm running away from you and this miserable life, you big, fucking, worthless idiot!"

"Evelyn, don't go! Evelyn! If you go now, don't even think about coming back! I mean it!"

"Oh honey, count on it!"

And she meant it too because while they were screaming at each other, she threw into their shared pick-up truck a bunch of clothes, a suitcase, and many plastic bags with, one could only assume, the rest of her things.

All the screaming had attracted the attention of passersby and neighbors alike. Yet, if they weren't paying attention before, the loud tire squeal of the truck as Evelyn backed out of the driveway did the trick, making everyone who was paying attention turn to the couple's house, scared by the sudden noise.

The truck drove loudly into the distance, leaving behind a deafening silence. Not even the birds dared to make any noise for a moment, afraid to upset the young man even more, but life had to keep going, even if it seemed to have stopped for him. People kept on walking, neighbors pretended to have been doing anything else rather than listening to the conversation and went on with their day, but you kept looking at the door, where an angry Joel Miller stood, not knowing what to do with life now, only distracted by the cries of his daughter, so he turned around and shut his door angrily leaving you standing in the middle of the street thinking how his life had taken a turn now too and wishing him the best of luck.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #no outbreak!joel miller #pre outbreak!joel #sarah miller #gn!reader #90s-ish vibes #super inaccurate descriptions of texas

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legendaryvermin · 1 year

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Had an idea for a fantasy game mechanic this morning that I thought I'd share! If this is cool to you, go ahead and use it as a hack, or codify it in the rules of your game. Message me if this happens, I'd be really into seeing how this works at a table or in a bigger set of rules!

Mechanical Epithets and Sobriquets

Epithets as in like "John Heroman, the lonesome tree, hero of five forks, skull crusher" are a really fun thing from fantasy (and real life) that tell us about the deeds of characters without having to get the whole story. They paint broad strokes about a person and give us a vibe, but leave the actual details of their deeds up to the imagination.

Kinda like the best TTRPG character backstories. 👀

So a couple of assumptions to make this microhack work:

The Characters are Already Known Heroes

We aren't writing the story of their lives before the game starts

We want to discover what (at least some of) our character's abilities are during play

After you've got the basics of your character sorted out, take a minute to come up with (or pick from a pregenerated list) a handful of sobriquets that feel right for your character. I'd say somewhere in the area of 2-4 feels right, with more established adventurers having more epithets.

They should all be vague and evocative, and paint right up to the edges of what you have already established about the world. Name drop battles and gods that haven't been established, give your character stories that are part of their legend but that don't yet make sense to you.

And then, during play, have characters use them. Player characters, NPC's, gods, bosses, random goblins. Make your epithets into threats "You dare defy the The Evening Rook!?" or appeals to your authority "Do it not for a stranger, but in the name of the Leyfinder". Establish how people feel about those epithets, which ones they love you for, and which they fear or hate you for. Know what your character feels about each of these epithets, and start to know in your heart how they got them.

Then, when it's mechanically and or narratively appropriate, declare to the table that you're using your epithet to gain a new ability. Tell the story of how you earned the title to the rest of the table (you should already know how people feel about the title, which ought to make this easier), and write a new ability based on how you earned the title.

Don't worry too much about being good at ability writing, just tell the table what you want to be able to do, and people will help you come up with something that feels right. And if you find that your ability or someone else's isn't working down the line, is taking some of the fun out of the game, or anything like that, just have a conversation about it. You're (probably) an adult, and if the people you are playing with are friends, or at bare minimum decent people, they will understand and try to help fix the problem.

After the readmore I'm gonna write like 20 of these so that the post comes with a picklist/roll table to get you started. Happy adventuring ttrpg nerds!

Oakenheart

Venomistress

Unburnt

Night Thunder

The Seamstress' Eye

Wicked Arrow

Goldentongue

Velvet Hammer

Unshaken

Gxlrick's Bane

Wolf Eared

Sorrowfont

Crystal Keeper

Lowport's Vengeance

Mother of Asps

Godslayer

Nimblehand

Chosen of Seriha

The Clipped Wing

Doomspeaker

I'd love to see any epithets/titles/sobriquets that people come up with for this, maybe in the comments? Have fun!!!

#ttrpg #ttrpg design #indie ttrpg #microhack #dnd #steal this #game design

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yenvengerberg · 4 months

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🎊 NEW YEARS CLEAN-UP 🎊

rules: unburden yourself from the abandoned WIPS collecting dust in your folder and share 5 gifs, then tag five people.

thank you so much riya (@thebookluvrr1816) for tagging me!

so what's maybe different about my giffing process is that i actually rarely abandon gifsets. like if i start making it, i'm locked in, i have to finish and get the idea out my brain. on the rare occasion i don't finish a set, then i'll readapt any gifs i made for another set (but i could actually only find one instance of a set that i had abandoned this year, and i'd adapted it for another set instead). so this is a selection of gifs that i either cut from a set as i had to narrow down choices, or an 'original' look at a gif before i changed it. because of that, i'm going to link the set it was made alongside or was adapted into for comparison!

this gif became altered for this kanej week + book to screen gifset. it originally started off as just a quote gifset. i started making this just after s2 dropped, but i think a mutual posted a set of kanej + this quote around the same time and i didn't want to be copying it so i ended up never finishing the set. when kanej week rolled around i ended up reusing the two gifs i made (this one + the one that became 'never stop fighting'), but damn, i did love this blue, and looking at it now i actually think this one came out better

2. an early version of my kanej week quotes set. i did several for this set with a gif inside the font, but i just really hated the way it looked overall, and at the last minute changed it. i still reused all the gifs i'd made though - you can see the two here in the second panel!

3. the original take on the third gif in this inej eps set. i ultimately changed it because i didn't like the blend, particularly that you couldn't see the knife being played with which is a moment i really wanted to include. but i do adore the yellow light shining on her as she's praying, there's something almost saintly about it, and wish i'd been able to incorporate it as i wanted to (please ignore the line it's just there because i gave up and never fixed it!)

4. a gif from this 'la vie en rose' ed and stede gifset. i thought the way they looked at each other with stede tilting his head was so cute, but ultimately i found blending the scenes a little messy and it didn't really match the other gifs/the lyrics so i cut it.

5. cut from this choni set, i basically cut this because there was a lot of movement in the scene and i wasn't happy with the colouring - they lean in to kiss and that meant there were a lot of issues with colouring layers overlapping skin and at that point i'd done a lot of frame-by-frame colouring and was feeling too lazy to do this one too.

there we go! this gives a bit of an insight into my giffing process too, it's always interesting how gifsets change as you continue to work on them to find what works, so hopefully this also provides a bit of before and after!

tagging some talented mutuals (but no pressure as always!): @ughmerlin, @crowley-anthony, @seance, @saws2004, @taiturner, @natscatorrcio, @morgana-pendragon, @singularities, @khaotunqs

#tag game #is it weird that i always make sure to finish sets idk asdfgh #anyway this was really fun to look back on actually cos it's interesting to see how my giffing process goes #i often go into sets with a plan (like i want these exact scenes and each gif like this) and stick quite well to it #but when i go in more freestyle a gifset can morph quite a lot

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bulle-d-bulliver · 1 year

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Request

A request of the prompt 24 with Law from this list.

[id : the background is a light grey with darker grey leaves scattered across. above the image are 4 crossed lines to outline the edges. on the top left there is a white circle, outlined by a dark grey, and a logo in the middle of the circle. the logo is a heart in a box, the way Law gets them in the media, and behind it is the jolly roger with brown lines and colored a golden yellow. On the picture’s right is written "Law” in white, outlined dark grey, in the font ‘verdana’ /end id]

Edit, 29/10/2023 : This was posted before the new editor rolled out. I cannot use the current/new editor’s functionalities on a post created before it rolled out. I will not repost writing from before the current editor.

Rating : Teens and Up, SFW

Tags : Fluff

Prompt : Protecting your lover’s sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you.

Your fingers dove back in Law’s ungodly fluffy hair, especially so when dry after a well-needed shower. His face was nestled against your tummy, with an arm around you refusing to let go. The very light snoring coming from him indicated his sleeping state- and that it was a very resting one. Law only snored when his sleep was a good sleep, you’d come to find out. A good hint to how he was doing when he did manage to catch some Zs.

Law made a noise as your thumb caressed his cheek, instinctively moving closer. You smiled, melting at the sight, wanting to squish him real hard- but opting to properly settle your hand on his skin, causing him to make another little noise. Gods, he was adorable when he wasn’t trying to hide it. Granted you found him adorable on the regular, but he could be such a gremlin.

A rough knock on the door with a panicked shout made the both of you frown. The door opened to Penguin after you gave a soft ‘yeah ?’, whom was promptly shushed by you with a glare and a point at the captain on your lap. You placed a pointer finger against your mouth, hunched over like you were shielding the crewmember from further upsetting his sleep, going back to petting the black hair in an attempt to sooth him back to deeper sleep. Penguin whispered something about an issue, which fortunately you were able to help with easily. Before the man could leave, you made sure to instruct for no one to bother you two unless absolutely necessary, and not to make any noise near the cabin. Thankfully, he immediately took it in stride, giving you a salute and leaving, almost slamming the door but fixing the speed at the last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. Checking on Law, he still seemed to be breathing deeply and slowly. If he was awake, at least he was still dazed or resting, so that was that, at the very least. Maybe you could- ah there, a little snore. You knew Law didn’t know about this little quirk of his, therefore he couldn’t fake it. You smiled, moving the strands away from his eyes. You were glad he was getting a good rest.

hope you liked it, leave a comment and reblog !

#my writing #one piece x reader #law x reader #fluff #cuddles #romance #gender neutral reader

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chaotic-minds-think-alike · 11 months

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Ok ok I’m posting it I’m posting the gay r obotsr me me when red & blue characters moment also this video is the entire song so like yk for idk 4 minutes worth of this crap

Also I made this like 2 months ago and I think I was having an insanity moment so that’s why it’s very lazily made like yk when you have insane ideas but nothing but animating it gets your point across??? Yeah

(song is Air Catcher by Twenty One Pilots)

Also explaining the story below:

After Eight wakes up from his void trauma induced coma, he catches up with his local group. They all welcome him overwhelmingly but one stands out from the other two, Early Warning. He had great interest in the ordeals Eight faced. A bit too much that it led to some serious fuck ups later on.

They begin to chat a lot more one on one and loved to share their newest innovations with each other. Eight greatly valued any support he could get to fix himself and vice versa with Warning, being that he’s actively sinking into a sinkhole unfortunately. They grew very close. So close that Eight eventually confessed to feeling… more. Eight asked Warning to help him, to help reverse the damage his ancients had caused him. He was incredibly serious asking this because the last time he put great trust in someone, he nearly died. Warning accepts the offer and this is actually the first time he visits his can.

Well… Warning was still very invested in the void related issues Eight faced because he was on the cusp of abandoning The Great Problem. When he went into his conflux to repair the majorly damaged components, he snooped around and read some neurons. Because Eight sustained heavy damage to his conflux, the sudden reading of these damaged neurons caused him to seize up for a moment and he was PISSED. Eight, at the time, was still heavily into his lizard research and thus released his specimens into his structure regardless if they were to cause damage to himself. Think like an immune response. The lizards would find Warning on his way out trying to escape and maul him to death, destroying this travel puppet.

(Not pictured but after the decommission of this travel puppet, Warning wakes back up in his own structure and just… lies there. He felt horrible.)

And so, Eight enters another period of isolation. He would block any private communications from everyone. He cut off all contacts with Warning but remained part of the local group broadcasts. He would talk very little, if at all. Many cycles would pass and many overseers were lost to Eight’s unrelenting anger. Despite his toxic emotions, he kept the eyes of the overseers. There was something he couldn’t let go of, something he didn’t want to let go of. Something about Warning reminded him of the golden era, when the ancients were still around, when he could still exchange banter with his engineers. There was something more to it that he refused to acknowledge.

Time dragged on and on and he grew to be more and more guilty. He sustained this anger from a certain someone, an unfortunate fingerprint left behind, but despite that he was incredibly emotional about it all. He couldn’t bring himself to prolong the pain much longer. Eventually one of his overseers would visit Warning’s can; he’d apologize almost face to face. He knew what he did, he knew the consequences, he knew as well that Warning’s travel puppets aren’t nearly as durable. He missed their chats and the time they spent together because without it, it’d remind him of that crushing pain he felt knowing his engineers would soon be gone. He hates being alone.

And finally, things might just turn out okay. Warning, although not pictured, accepts his apology. He’d tell him it was his mistake, that he’s older and he should’ve known better. Things might actually become better.

—-

Respecting Eight’s wishes, they are very reserved about their relationship. Eight feels that he’s being too vulnerable to let anyone else know how he feels, although occasionally Warning will publicly jab at him to get a response.

#thunderposting i guess #myart #rainworld iterator #iterator #iterator oc #rainworld #Jesus Christ I sit here for like 30 or more minutes typing this out #anyways word dump they are gay you’re welcome #they’re also very sad and have this fucked up past #warning thinks it’s funny to tease eight about telling the others how he feels #oh btw I forgot to mention they’re both actually insane mad scientists so none of this behavior should be shocking #they’re sooo fucked up towards eachother but it’s ok they find some weird ass order in the chaos they make

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ghostdrinkssoup · 2 years

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hi hello tumblr dot com, can we unpack will and hannibal’s character introductions?

trick question and I don’t care: we’re unpacking this whether you like it or not <3

for the people who wanted to be tagged here you are: @forgivenessishisdesign @kitzual

so anyway last night I rewatched apéritif and now that I know how the series ends a lot of small details stuck out to me. there’s so much content to pick apart that I’m actually losing my mind a little so I’m gonna divide my thoughts into two parts because this is going to be long. first we’ll do will’s introduction, then in the next post I’ll write about hannibal’s

EDIT: you can find part two (hannibal’s introduction) here :)

with that being said, let’s get started

will:

as far as character introductions go, will’s is so perfect to me that I need to dedicate some time just to infodump about it. let it be known that I am obsessed with this scene. there is so much packed into literally only four or so minutes and it’s glorious

funnily enough it’s pretty simple: the scene opens with a flashback. will is depicted recreating a crime scene using his empathy disorder (although audiences are not aware of his empathy yet) and ends with him returning to the present, where he’s lecturing his students about psychoanalysing serial killers, using the case as an example. that’s it. but the scene does everything it needs to do

an effective opening should tell you:

1) the rules/qualities of the world (which can either be exceedingly normal or very bizarre depending on the nature of the story’s subtext and extended metaphor)

2) the protagonist’s worldview, thus foreshadowing the nature of their arc

3) depict theme and raise thematic questions

4) and set-up the climax of the story, which should ideally mirror the opening so that we’re left with a circular narrative

by opening with will’s empathy we are immediately shown that this is a normal part of the story-world even if it’s fantastical by nature. it’s something will can do and that’s just how it is. it’s important that this is the first thing we see because his empathy serves a plot, character, thematic, and genre purpose. it’s a device, as well as an integral part of the show’s subtext and extended metaphor. it automatically puts him on an axis between empathy and psychopathy, or rather, humanity and monstrosity. even before we’re introduced to hannibal himself this is clear through a study of visual contrasts, since in the same instance we’re introduced to the concept of “empathy”, will is taking on the role of the killer, coldly explaining how he murdered the victims bleeding out at his feet. this is the first murder we see in the show, meaning, by proxy, will is the first “killer” we see as well, even if he’s just recreating the scene. we never see who killed mrs marlow, and so the only impression we have of this killer is will’s face. this sets up the structure of s1, since each murder reveals more about will himself, but I digress

and sure, the precision of his empathy is exaggerated and unrealistic, but we believe it a) because it’s the first thing we learn about him and is an unquestionable part of the story-world and its logic and b) because it adheres to its genre (crime/gothic horror). the gothic horror aspect in particular justifies the phantasmagoric, almost supernatural nature of will’s empathy, as well as it’s visual aesthetic (it’s represented through a hypnotic, pendulum type swinging motion). the gothic deals with topics of transgression, the unnatural or unexplainable, and most importantly the unknown. even if the show’s gothic elements aren’t exactly clear yet, the opening certainly maintains this tone. it’s why when the show moves away from the standard crime procedural structure, it’s not exactly jarring or beyond audience expectations (even unconscious ones)

but in all honesty, what really stands out about this scene is what will tells his students after. there are five elements fixed into the few lines he says (which I’ve highlighted below) and it’s all that’s needed to tie the scene back to theme and the show’s main through line

the first thing will says after he’s finished recreating the crime scene, returning to the present and leaving the killer’s mind, is “everyone has thought about killing someone, one way or another.” if the initial flashback worked to place empathy and psychopathy on a conceptual axis, paradoxically blurring the line by contrasting what we know about will vs what we see of will, then the above dialogue blurs everything even further. according to will’s worldview he, and as a result normal people in general, all think monstrous things. therefore, we all have the capacity to understand monsters

to will, humanity is not divorced from monstrosity

this is immediately followed by “be it your hand or the hand of god” introducing a new dimension for us to work with: man vs monster vs god. this gives his initial worldview a righteous edge. here we have a character who understands humanity’s capacity for violent thought, but it’s rendered through a type of divine justice. for him, there must be reason and meaning behind violence. better still, he would prefer it to be righteous. this of course sets up much of his dynamic with hannibal. they talk about religion a lot in the show. lines that immediately come to mind are “killing must feel good to god, he does it all the time” “is this meal an act of god, will?” “did god feel good about that? (violence)” “he felt powerful” etc. I think there’s also something to be said about how by thematically juxtaposing humanity with god, the concept of fate and free will also becomes implicit. we all think about killing, sometimes we choose to do it ourselves and sometimes god does it for us. who has power here? when does it stop being righteous? can one take on the role of god when killing? and if one does take on the role of god, would all blame be erased?

after this is: “now think about killing mrs marlow. why did she deserve this?” now we’re directly tying will’s dialogue to the flashback. to will, the death must have meaning. not only that, but for the perpetrator this must be righteous in some way. why did she deserve it? this line also adheres to the show’s genre and its conventions: this is a crime show, which means we’re exploring justice and injustice. again, thematic opposites. but, as he’s done the entire time he’s been on screen so far, will keeps blurring the line between these distinctions

he then says “tell me your design” which, as we all know, is a significant motif in the show. he says this all the damn time, after every murder. again, this brings forth the idea that the murders must have some kind of deeper meaning, psychological or perhaps even creatively. after all, “design” is an interesting way to phrase this. it sounds artistic, purposeful, imbued with meaning. however, the exact meaning of this is only cemented when he follows it with “tell me who you are”

“tell me who you are” is arguably the most important part of this entire sequence because, first and foremost, this show is about identity, specifically will’s identity. he recontextualises everything he just said in that moment, as well as the flashback we watched moments earlier. the design, the intent, the act of murder, and whether it’s divine or monstrous or purely human, is all linked to one’s identity. by understanding the murder, we understand the man. further still, there lies hidden commentary on one’s moral choices, as well as how autonomy fuels self-empowerment: we will understand who will is once he makes a choice to secure his own autonomy and power, which he does in the wrath of the lamb

it’s why he struggles to make solid choices all throughout the show, and why the specific choices he makes are so important, because whatever he authentically chooses to do will reveal who he is, no matter how hard he tries to hide from himself. he chooses to kill hobbs. he chooses to warn hannibal and gets his stomach split open in the process. if he hadn’t been so indecisive, he would’ve chosen to run away with hannibal too. he chooses to follow him to italy. and finally, he chooses to break him out of prison. because ultimately, once cannot change their nature. you cannot reduce him to a set of influences. he’s not a product of anything. he has his own design

and in hindsight, the questions raised here concerning will’s nature is resolved the moment he chooses to take hannibal down with him. the ambiguity of the resolution recalls the conflict between fate and free will, justice and injustice, and humanity and monstrosity (as set up in the opening scene) since although will actively chooses to drag them down the cliff, and as a result chooses loving hannibal over everything else, something he can’t really control anyway, he simultaneously leaves their fate up to god. it’s an act of faith. in that moment, when will finally seizes power and recognises who he is, accepting hannibal as his natural equal, his hand becomes the hand of god. in a final coin toss, will puts their lives in his own hands, and hannibal lets him do it anyway

#apéritif my beloved #listen I know the fall can be interpreted however you want #but I really really love the metaphorical approach #literal fall from grace AND the coin toss like AAAA IT LINKS BACK TO THE OPENING #all this finding empowerment through choice while paradoxically being unable to choose who you fall in love with (a loss of control)#really does speak to its queer themes too #like I’m sorry but this show is so queer dudes it’s not even coded it’s just there #I know cishet people probably don’t see it as clearly but it’s so obvious to me #anyway #I have more thoughts but this was getting wayyyy too long so we’ll talk about hannibal another time #probably tonight tbh NSBSHDH #I added pictures to this one just for fun <3 #my meta is evolving #but yeah I love will graham man he’s such a great character #hannibal #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannigram #hannibal meta #ghost speaks

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