#and what's that grief for? what's that grief always going to be for?

[norrizzandpia]

Hi :))

How about angry love confession in the rain with Lando and then a kiss in the rain??!

Olive (LN4)

Summary: After a massive loss, Lando and Y/n find themselves losing sight of the love they once shared. A ghost town in a house they once imprinted their love in is riddled in pain and grief. Right at the edge of the cliff, ready to give up and part ways, an anniversary pulls them back together and reunites them in what they once had.

Warnings: THIS IS VERY TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES, depictions of a miscarriage, language, massive angst, HAPPY ENDING

Note: it is not a very angry love confession im sorry :( but i kind of took creative freedom here! I hope you like it! I also lied THIS IS NOT A TWO PART JUST ONE because it ends positively

I could be a good mother and I want to be your wife. - Not a lot, just forever by Adrianne Lenker

There wasn’t necessarily a moment Y/n could pinpoint as the ending of the love her and Lando had. There were fights they had that could’ve hinted at their falling out, but it seemed as though one day, she woke up and the house they lived in together was just one of ghosts and pain.

The walls that were once filled with laughter and happiness now creaked with silence. This was almost worse than a complete break up. This was hell on Earth. This was living with the man she loved more than anything and knowing he no longer loved her in the way she did, lying to himself to try and salvage something that wasn’t there.

It was almost as if they hated the fact that, at some point, they loved each other. Lando couldn’t dare to look at her, worried if he did then he would realize how much he used to feel for her, and Y/n never spoke unless needed, not wanting to alert him of her presence and see him tense in the way he did.

It was tragic and it was sorrowful and it wasn’t love.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

Y/n set the last box down, staring at the empty room and smiling. His arms surprised her as they winded their way around her waist.

He nuzzled into her neck and kissed softly at the skin, “What a beautiful home for my beautiful girl.”

She blushed, “Lan, it’s your home too. It’s ours.”

She yelped as he twirled her around in his arms, face coming into view and oh so close. He nipped at her nose, giggles ensuing from the two, “Say that again.”

Her arms crossed over his neck, “It’s our home.”

Lando sighed and let his eyes fall to the space behind her, “Three years it took us to move in together.”

She tutted, “Three years it took you to convince me to move to Monaco.”

His dimples gave way and her heart warmed. The deep divots on his skin always peeked out when he was talking to her, she thought of them as a physical sign of his adoration.

She traced over them and Lando stared down at her, Y/n unknowing, as his body drowned in the love he had for her. He wouldn’t want to move in with anyone else. When he pictured his life, it was her standing in this room with him.

Their bedroom.

“How long do you think until a little you and me runs around here?” He whispered, grabbing her attention once more.

Y/n’s eyes lightly fluttered down to her stomach, “Not long I hope.”

A mischievous grin deepened his dimples and she knew what he was going to say before the words even fell from his mouth.

”Want to try now?”

No bed in the room, he dragged her down to the kitchen and set her upon the counter. Their first memory in their house together.

PRESENT

”Excuse me,” She whispered, a slight roughness to her voice only a lack of sleep could explain.

Lando didn’t move.

She huffed, “Lando,”

His head turned and his eyes latched onto the wall behind her, “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “Please move.”

His head gave two glances to the left and right before he shrugged, “It’s a small bathroom, Y/n. I can’t move.”

”You’re standing in the middle of the walkway, Lando. I can’t get through to get ready for bed.” She gave, eyes rolling when he wouldn’t budge.

Lando snapped, “Jesus, Y/n, why don’t you just take your shit down the hall to the other bathroom. Get ready there. Problem solve, please.”

Her eyes turned cold and when he finally met them, he couldn’t recognize the woman he once loved.

“Fuck you. You of all people should know why I won’t step foot in there. You won’t. Why should I?” She said, pushing past him forcefully to get where she needed to be.

He grunted, “Don’t fucking push me. What are we? Five?”

She chuckled, “That’s rich coming from you.”

Lando’s eyes rolled, “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna fucking throw that at me?”

She put her toothpaste against the bristles of the brush and gave him a quick look before going silent and letting the cool mint taste shut her up.

He grumbled, “Fucking silent treatment. Classic.”

Lando slammed the door shut, random mutters of annoyance under his breath as he walked away.

Y/n stared at the white paint as it chipped away, having been slammed many times before. And only when she turned back to stare at her reflection did she notice the tears down her cheeks.

She could leave, there was nothing stopping her, but what she didn’t want to admit was the love still there that she couldn’t let go of.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

”You don’t think it’s weird we’re trying for a baby when we aren’t even engaged yet, right?” Y/n asked as she sat at the counter, the morning breeze coming in through the main bay window and keeping small strands of her hair out of her face.

Lando’s back was to her as he hesitated, “No, I don’t think so. Lots of couples do it.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, “Are you sure? I feel like they’re all at least engaged.”

A plate of pancakes was clutched in his grip when he turned around, a small smile on his face as he looked at her. He set the food down and pushed her hair off her shoulder, “We aren’t other couples, baby. We can do things on our own terms.”

She nodded, “Maybe, but…” She trailed off.

His mouth was filled as he murmured, “But what?”

She poked her food around with her fork when she whispered, “But what if I want to get married?”

Lando stopped eating, practically stopped breathing altogether. He took a few seconds before resuming his prior movements as if nothing happened, “We can talk about it.”

His lack of enthusiasm made her retract into herself. He wanted a baby, but he didn’t want marriage seemingly.

Why?

PRESENT

”So, how are you? I haven’t seen you since before it happened, Y/n.” Her best friend, Carter, asked.

Y/n blinked at the girl across from her, willing away tears, “I’m doing better.”

Carter stared at her skeptically, “What about Lando? How’s he holding up?”

Her mouth moved down a bit and Carter knew. What the couple had been through was hard enough and her worst fear was for her best friend to lose the man she loved to it. They were young, too young, and what could’ve made them stronger only destroyed them.

Carter’s hand reached across the table and clutched Y/n’s when her mouth began to move in a response, but failed.

She took a deep breath, “I’m not sure. We aren’t really talking right now. It’s been hard on us.”

Carter nodded, “Of course, it has. Of course.”

Y/n looked around the coffee shop and smiled at the times her and Lando used to make trips in the early morning just to get the hot liquid. She met Carter’s gaze, “I’m hoping we can somehow make it through.”

The implication of that sentence was shattered, Carter’s eyebrows raised, “You don’t think you can?”

Y/n picked at her nails, “We just had massive problems before it happened and then… Well, it happened, and it was so much to work through. We just crumbled under the sheer amount of shit to talk through. It sounds stupid, I know, for how in love we were. But, by the time we got through the grieving, the problems had been so long suppressed, we just hated each other.”

Carter dipped her head down to catch Y/‘s eyes, “But, what if that was just the grieving. What if you never hated each other and you were both just trying to get through your own sadness. What if you aren’t even done grieving.”

Y/n shook her head, “We’re so far gone, Car. I don’t ever see him even giving me the light of day to talk through it.”

”Lando loves you, Y/n. He always has and he always will. He’s just in pain.” Carter tried, but Y/n snapped.

”So am I.”

A silence passed between them before Y/n dropped her head, muttering an apology for her tone. Carter just shook her head and reassured her friend. Though, in the back of her mind, she noted the way Y/n was behaving. The girl wasn’t the same and with all the loss she was experiencing, Carter couldn’t blame her.

TWO YEARS PRIOR

”LANDO!” Y/n screeched from the top of the stairs, running down them so fast she was worried of tripping.

Lando came running to her, concern evident on his face. When they met in the downstairs hallway and she seemed untouched, he cocked his head.

”What’s going on, baby?” He pulled her into his arms, checking the top of her head for any injuries.

”Lan,” She started, but his eyes were already on the object grasped in her palm.

He had felt it poking against his stomach when he leaned forward to look at her scalp and the infamous color of pink at the tip told him what news she was about to give.

His face lifted, “No,”

She nodded with a smile, “I’M PREGNANT!”

He screamed, a girlish one she giggled at, and picked her up, twirling her around. When he set her down, they jumped around together, laughing and yelping out in happiness.

”BABY! THERE’S A BABY!” He yelled before grabbing her face and kissing her sweetly. He poured his love for her into it, wanting her to know how happy he was to share this with her. He wanted to reassure her that he’d be there every step of the way, that he’d love her every step of the way. The softness of his hands on her body and his plump lips enveloping hers told her what he wanted them to.

When they pulled back, his eyes sparkled and he put his hand over her stomach.

Glistening in his eyes, he stared upon the woman that was the rest of his life and rubbed gently over her shirt, “We’re having a kid together.”

She nodded, “We are, Lan.”

His face nuzzled in her hair when he hugged her and whispered, “I’ve never wanted anything more. I love you so much, Y/n.”

PRESENT

”Your love is conditional, Lando. It always has been and it always will be.” Y/n yelled, anger radiating off her as she stared at him.

Lando’s hands clutched his hair, “You’ve never loved me for who I was, Y/n!”

She went quiet, heavily taken aback by his statement. When she came into this conversation, her only goal was to try and address the problems they’d had before everything they went through. She wanted Carter to be right. For their distance to be just grief and pain, for them to have a fighting chance. But, he only met her with hostility and defensiveness. It was bound to escalate, but not to this. Not to what he just accused her of.

Tears found their way down her cheeks, “Lando, I have loved you since the moment we met. I have loved you for you, not your money or your status. I have loved every part of you with truth and honesty. I have not put six years of my life into you based on a superficial love. You were my everything, Lan.” She got quiet, “I’ve defended you even when you were wrong, celebrated you even when you failed, cheered you on when you didn’t believe in yourself, pulled you back up when you’d fallen down. I have given my life to you. Don’t you dare look at me and tell me I never loved you for who you were. That was all I ever did. You wanted me to move to Monaco, albeit with some hesitance, I did. You wanted me to quit my job so I could come to every race, I was there. You didn’t want to get married, but I did, so we didn’t. You wanted a baby, I did too, and I gave that to you. I’m sorry if my failure in growing her has made you think I don’t love you for you, but some things I just can’t fucking control.”

By the end of her words, she was choking it all out, sobs emitting from her and pain the only thing she could communicate. Her last few sentences were said with screams, right in his face to try and make him hear her.

Hear her, he did, but he produced no response as he stared at her blankly.

Even as she pleaded for him, he couldn’t deliver.

“Fuck you, Lando.” She yelled before walking upstairs and slamming the bedroom door shut.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

”I love you, Lan.” Y/n whispered, his hand clutched in hers as they sat in the examination room.

He smiled at her, his dimples not appearing, “I love you too, Y/n.”

They stared at each other, stress and fear etched into the lines of their faces when the doctor walked in.

The somber look on his face made Y/n sit up, “No,”

He sat down, “Unfortunately, the baby didn’t make it. I am so very sorry for your loss. There was a problem with the-”

”What?” Lando whispered, his grip on Y/n’s hand loosening.

She looked at him as his finger slipped from hers, but he refused to look at her.

“No.” He said, adamant his worst nightmare wasn’t coming true. He stood from his chair, tears in his eyes, before storming out.

The first door slam of many.

Y/n laid still on the table, a hand over her bump and tears down her face, completely abandoned by the man who was supposed to be in this with her.

“I’m sorry about him,” She took a breath, “We really wanted to meet her.”

The doctor smiled softly, “Do you mind if I ask what you were going to name her? Sometimes, in situations like these, I find it’s best to refer to the child by their name rather than something else.”

She shook her head, “I don’t mind.” Her eyes drifted to the door, wishing for Lando to come back so they could utter the name of their daughter together, but he didn’t show.

Tears streamed from her face when she whispered, “Olive.”

The doctor smiled, “What a lovely name.”

The air of the room shifted when the man set down his clipboard, rolling his chair closer and rubbing his forehead.

”Now, we have to discuss the options of stillbirth.”

She was expected to be strong, to talk about what she was most comfortable with when birthing a daughter she would never get to see prosper.

Maybe she could’ve been strong had Lando been by her side like he promised. But he was nowhere to be found.

And that made her hate him.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

The couple stared at the assembly of rocks shoved in the dirt of their backyard, a formation of a heart staring back at them. The memorial of their daughter was the last thing they had which tied themselves to her. Lando stood feet away from Y/n, not having touched her in the week after the news and the birth.

He had been there with her, but mentally, she knew he was somewhere else. Part of her understood, she would’ve mentally placed herself some place else had she not been having to focus on pushing, but she also loathed him for not stepping up and being with her like he had promised.

Part of her didn’t want him to touch her, but the other part wished for him to show any kind of sign of attraction toward her. She felt unwanted and worthless in the eyes of the man that once made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the entire world. The destruction of them laid before them, staring at them so innocently.

Her daughter. Their daughter. The little her and him that was supposed to be drawing on the walls and dropping food on the floor stared back at them in the form of rocks and dirt.

She reached for his hand, it wet from the tears she had been wiping away, but he just jerked his body away and retreated back into the house.

Maybe that was the moment where they genuinely died.

PRESENT

The one year anniversary of Olive and her memory only brought Y/n the same amount of pain it did a year ago. She had anticipated that. This was her daughter. A whole in her heart would always be there in the shape of Olive.

It didn’t matter that it was raining or how cold the day was, Y/n was going to push herself to step outside and visit the rocks her and Lando had planted there all those months ago in an effort to reconcile the pain that harbored within their bodies.

She found the dirt patch and sat in front of it, mud soaking her jeans and water soaking her hair. She felt alive in the midst of the rain, the most she had since it happened, and she laughed.

“Funny how you killed me, but you make me feel alive today.” She whispered, staring at the heart intensely.

She breathed, “I hope you don’t think I hate you. For a moment there, I thought I did. I hate to say it out loud, but I really thought I did. I thought I hated you because I blamed Lando and I’s problems on you. I blamed my pain on you. You brought so much happiness into this home, but you brought so much pain and even after a year, I still don’t know how to deal with it. But, I know now that that was just the grief talking. I never hated you, I just loved you so much and losing you was one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. Living without you, even though I never knew you, has been the greatest challenge of my life. Your father, I hope he’s found some sort of peace in all of this. No matter how much he’s hurt me, not shown up, he deserves so much. I hate that you never got to meet him, know him, be loved by him. It’s an experience, I’ll tell you that. It’s chaos and it’s sometimes anger or sadness, but it’s love and it’s deep love. When you’re loved by your father, and you were, it’s beautiful. If there’s anything I could wish for, it would be for you to be here and be able to describe to someone, like I can, how amazing it feels to be loved the way your Dad loves.”

”Really?” Lando whispered from behind her, his broken voice striking a part of her she forgot was there.

She turned around, looking up at him and smiling softly, “Yeah,”

Lando sat down next to her, the two leaning into each other in the coldness of the rain. Their shoulders touched and it brought electricity throughout Y/n’s body, the first time their bodies had met in a while. Whether it was because he was cold or he craved her like she did, Y/n didn’t know.

“I hate that she never got to experience what it was like to be loved by you.” He murmured from beside her, staring at the rocks like she was.

Y/n softened, “What happened to us, Lan?”

He sighed, “Y/n, you were never a failure because Olive died before we could meet her. I never thought you failed.”

She was getting sick of crying, “But, you left me, Lan. You left me on that table, you left me in this house, you left me by myself, you left me with the memory of her. You left me alone when I needed you most. You never touched me, never looked at me. I know we could’ve been something with her. We would’ve been great parents. That hurts the most. There was so much potential for immense happiness, but it was just taken so fast. I could be a good mother, Lan, and I want to be your wife, but you didn’t show up for me.”

The sound of her sobs broke his heart and he finally let his body succumb to its desires to feel her warmth against his. He lightly let his hand fall over hers, checking to make sure his touch was wanted. When she didn’t fight back, he let their fingers tangle together.

”I knew you would be a good mother. I know you will be. That was never it. I was ashamed of myself. I had felt like I had forced this child on you and now it was like I was forcing you to go through the pain of losing a daughter because of it. I hated looking at you, touching you because it hurt to let my mind wander to its idea that I was the reason you were crying every night and a shell of who you once were. I wanted to fight my love for you because it just made me so angry. I felt like I had ruined the life we were so excited to lead. I had destroyed our hope and destroyed the wants we had for this house. I just couldn’t come to terms with it all without blaming myself and I pushed you away in the process. I hate myself for that, Y/n.” He stated with force. She could tell he was determined to right his wrongs.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, “But, what about not wanting to get married? How come I wasn’t enough to want to marry?”

He shook his head, “That was never it. You were always enough. I just didn’t want you to be permanently tied to me unless you wanted to leave me. I’m always gone and traveling. I’m not a stable boyfriend and you deserve one. I can’t give that to you. I didn’t want you to be officially associated with me in case you woke up one day and decided to find something better.”

Y/n turned to look at him, their teary eyes meeting each other without malice for the first time in a long time, “How come you would think I would ever want to leave you? Plus, a baby? Lan, that would’ve tied me to you forever.”

He nodded, “But, not officially. We could coparent and you could walk whenever you chose. If you walked out, you wouldn’t be faced with mounds of paperwork and custody battles over a kid we both grew. I wanted you to have the option.”

”But I never wanted the option. I still don’t want the option.” She said, her voice firm and knowing.

Lando’s eyes lit up, “You still want to be with me? Even after everything I put you through?”

Y/n’s eyes erupted in fury, “Lando! I love you! I always have and I always will! I wanted Olive with you and I wanted a life with you! Stop, I’m begging you, stop sabotaging us with your fears!”

He smiled at her, his dimples appearing and making her heart soar, and she just huffed, “What?”

He chuckled softly, “I just never expected to be happy you were getting mad at me.”

At his confession, Y/n’s stern demeanor lessened and she caught a glimpse of the man he used to be. Maybe they just needed each other to find who they once were.

Her hand in his, he whispered once more, “I’m sorry for accusing you of not loving me for who I am. That was completely untrue. I’ve never felt as loved by anyone than by you and I’m sorry for suggesting you use Olive’s bathroom to get ready for bed. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it. I’ve fucked up so many times, Y/n. I’ve hurt you so much and I’ve failed you so much. I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I can’t believe I fell short when it was tested. I’ll never let it happen again. Let me show you.”

She nodded, her head falling into the crook of his neck as his arms found her waist, “I’ll let you show me. We’ll be okay and we’ll get through it. I know it now. We’ll overcome this. We have each other, that’s all that matters.”

He pulled back for a moment to kiss her, find her lips when he hadn’t for so long. When they met, the cold water dripping around them, their love was cemented once more. There were still things to talk through, work through, but they stopped deciding to try and do it alone. They had each other, they depended on each other. That was okay.

He slumped back when they separated, in a moment of pure bliss, and her body fell further into him. Completely cradled by him, Lando stared at the small note that Olive’s name was written on, having been put there by Y/n the year prior.

They missed her, they always would, but in front of her memorial, they found each other again. In front of her remembrance, Lando and Y/n were reminded of how much they used to love each other. They allowed their walls to fall and returned to each other in front of their daughter. In a solid and warm embrace, they knew a future together was not over or out of reach.

In fact, it was just beginning.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris fic #lando smut #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfiction #lando norizz #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you

[kinardscoffee]

Can we just talk about the fact that Buck has always gone above and beyond for everyone in his life?

And how having someone else be there for him is a huge fucking deal?

Buck has such a deep-seated fear of abandonment, and the show has made it so REAL, given his childhood, and i pray the writers put our boy back in therapy to address it. Clearly, the Buckley parents hardly showed affection towards Buck as a child, even to the extreme of cutting off an emotional connection to ultimately help them bury their grief over Daniel. And Buck could feel this. A tiny child who just wants to be loved "anyway" and has lived his entire life in fear that any future physical and emotional relationships he finds will always abandon him because it's literally all he knows.

Buck has always craved a connection to something. Whether it's with his sister, at jobs, with friends, with romantic partners... he approaches everything and everyone in his life like they're this brand new amazing piece of his charred. scattered puzzle.

And, still, everyone has either left him, made him feel like the problem or a burden, or told him he's not good enough.

And we know he values his family (both blood and found) above everything else around him.

But like, who does it for him?

I'm not saying the 118, Maddie, or past LIs haven't been there for him, but, at one point in time, they've all made him feel some type of way during their relationship with him. Whether it was completely accidental or not.

Yes, even Eddie, who called him exhausting and shut Buck out of his life when it came to the underground fighting. Even after Eddie left the 118 and was struggling with his PTSD. And I'm not saying Eddie is a dick for all that. He was having a bad time. I'm just saying he can't really understand Buck in that way.

And that's okay.

Eddie, along with everyone else in Buck's life, is there for him in their own special way that helps make Buck learn from past mistakes and become a better person.

But then he meets Tommy.

Someone who went above and beyond, putting both his job and his life on the line by flying Hen, Chim, Eddie and Buck out to search for a cruise ship in the middle of a hurricane.

And that has to impress the shit out of Buck. Which is why there is an immediate attraction and need to get to know this man. Buck feels drawn to him because maybe, just maybe, the pieces broken inside himself could ultimately match up to those within Tommy.

Buck can't stop thinking about Tommy because no one else he's ever dated has treated Buck with this amount of attention or makes him feel secure in the fact that his feelings matter.

And yeah, Tommy ended their first date early, and I know some people didn't appreciate that, but you also have to understand that Tommy has feelings too. We don't canonically know Tommy's story, but I'm confident he's broken inside by the same insecurities that Buck has.

So, Buck realizing that his actions on the date weren't right and deciding to put everything on the line to Tommy?

We aren't dealing with the same Buck from S6 who thought Natalia saw him because he died.

No.

Buck sees Evan. He sees himself and the life he's ready to live.

And finally, he's making himself a priority.

He's not basing this relationship on Tommy or what anyone else thinks. He's pursuing this relationship for himself and for the first time... it's his time.

And Tommy just keeps showing up for it.

He doesn't ridicule Buck on wanting to throw Chim a bachelor party that wasn't wanted. He stays as long as he can before getting called into work. And I'm willing to bet that the man didn't even eat anything because Buck said they had to wait for Chim.

And those looks!

The kicked puppy look that Buck gives Tommy says so much. There's a sadness that he failed at throwing a successful bachelor party, I mean, Chim didn't even show up. There's a sudden concern that the guy he likes is going to a fire that most likely is highly dangerous and large considering they called him in for it.

Tommy gives him a look that shows he understands all of the feelings that Buck is struggling with in that moment. And then he goes on to promise that he will try his best to make it to the wedding.

And you can tell that Buck doesn't believe that. Why would Tommy even consider coming back for Buck? Hell, maybe there wasn't even a fire. Maybe Tommy just created an easy out for an awkward situation.

But I like to believe that Tommy checked in with Buck periodically, and then when he found out that Chim was missing, his texts came in more frequently as his job would allow.

And im sure at one point, Buck told him that he didn't need to come. That he was off the hook because the wedding was at the hospital. No free food or chance of that dance.

Only, Tommy assures him he'll still be there.

And, holy shit, for the first time in Buck's life, someone has kept their word above all else.

Tommy shows up, dirty, exhausted, still in his uniform, hitching a ride on the firetruck or one of those ambulances parked outside, looking both concerned and apologetic.

But all Buck sees is the guy he's crazy about showing up all because Buck wanted him to.

And I just think that's really fucking huge.

#apparently im a rambler #hope it makes sense #if not oh wellz i guess #911 spoilers #911 abc #evan buckley #911 fandom #bucktommy #tommy kinard #911 speculation #i don't know what this is actually

[trappolia]

FINGERS TWISTED BEHIND MY BACK (DON'T LET IT BE YOU I LACK) ── aventurine x gn!reader, 862

aventurine hates fighting with you.

he does not even remember it—not clearly, at least. through the memories mudded by the buzz of soulglad and whatever alcoholic beverages he'd guzzled down the night before, the exact expression of your face when he stumbled back into your hotel room is a blur (a pretty blur, he is quite sure, though no doubt a disappointed one) and the sentences you'd spat out at him were jumbled into words that grate in his eardrums when he tries to recall what exactly was said. aventurine tries to echo it to himself, but even the incoherence sounds bitter on his tongue, and all that comes out an indistinct, asthmatic gasp that he's quite sure is some sort of equivalent of his heart aching. or breaking. somewhere in between, perhaps.

he rolls over in your bed, damp from the shower and tears. aventurine is thankful veritas hasn't stormed in to nag at him; he would not be able to stomach being seen like this by anyone else but you: his sweet safe haven, his little eden. you've gone now, stormed off somewhere to cool off. aventurine leaves you be (even if he spent the first two hours alone relentlessly spamming your phone with messages, pleas to come back and return) but he is still alone.

the thought occurred to him somewhere between hour three and hour five, that you'd never come back. aventurine doesn't let it linger. his stomach roils, mouth tasting of bitter alcohol and sweet dreams where you are still there and he'd never upset you.

the hours he spends there without you are hellish, a parody of a bleak, grief-stricken painting of some woman whose husband has gone out to fight in an intergalactic war—draped over the bed, numb and miserable to everything but the thought of you he has to conjure every now and then to keep himself sane. the air is cold and never seems to adjust, even though the reverie's rooms are specifically designed to tailor to the guest's tastes. they clearly did not consider the factor that is a hopeless, lovesick man suffering from withdrawal.

the door creaks open.

aventurine darts up in his your bed, instantly whipping myself up into such a nervous, edgy frenzy that he almost forgets how to breathe. his lungs shudder, the cogs in his brain turning the wrong way, and nothing is working fast enough, right enough as he stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over the carpet as he finds you toeing off your shoes at the door, so pretty it hurts.

"welcome home," aventurine manages to choke out, still tripped-out and dizzy, heart pounding loud in his fingertips and ears. he watches you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his own for the first time in hours that feel like centuries, and the burden on his lungs alleviates—just a little bit.

"…aventurine," you sigh in this throaty, broken voice that cuts right at his chest. he winces as if he's been struck, eyes flitting to the dizzying pattern of the carpet in effort to hide the glossiness of his irises.

he hears your feet padding across the room to him, the footfalls soft and slow and not at all violent, though he cannot help but fear. there can always be a finality to the softest, gentlest of mercies. not that aventurine has ever experienced it before, but he knows it is possible with you: you who holds his heart in your hands, and you may very well tear it apart if you so wished.

aventurine will let you, if that is what you want.

but instead he swallows, too loudly; finds his fingers instinctively twisting behind his back. "are you going?"

"i just arrived," you whisper, endlessly gentle, endlessly soft—forgiving.

"i know," his voice breaks, and you reach out to touch him—palm against cheek, thumb brushing over the slope of his cheekbone. something cold and damp trails over the flesh of his face, fair marble streaked with a single rivulet of a tear. he does not tell you why he wants to cry. you know anyway.

aventurine thinks pretending would be easier with you, but here in this room, at the end of the day when everyone else has escaped into their own dreamscape, he is tired of saccharine sweet lies, the twisting webs that he pulls around without even understanding the final result it will conjure. it is easier, he thinks, to let you keep his heart and do with it as you wish—and aventurine can only hope that you will be merciful.

are you going? the second set of three words, that single question that he truly wants to ask is caught in his throat, because you may hold aventurine's heart in your palms, but if you will not use your own bloody fingers to pry it open, he must do it for you—and he can't. not for this, at least.

but you know anyway. of course you do.

will you stay?

"i'm right here," you murmur, sweet and godly against his lips, swallowing the sob that he almost lets out. "i'm staying right here."

© trappolia 2024

#i know alexis has ebg rn but fuck it we ball #aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine angst #aventurine imagines #aventurine scenarios #aventurine drabbles #aventurine oneshots #aventurine fics #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail scenarios #honkai star rail drabbles #honkai star rail oneshots #honkai star rail fics #hsr fluff #hsr angst #hsr imagines #hsr scenarios #hsr drabbles #hsr oneshots #hsr fics

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Caring enough to Kill (part 2)

Part two to this. Jason confronts Bruce and when it doesn't go the way he wants it to Danny is there to pick up the pieces.

tw: Mentions of sex, descriptions of violence, abusive relationships

----

Jason stumbled back into his safehouse, clutching his bleeding throat where Bruce had cut him. He could feel the tears trapped behind the stupid Domino mask and he ripped it off, sobbing as he collapsed to the floor. He had finally done it, he had confronted Bruce, told him it was Joker or Him and Bruce had, Bruce had attacked him! 'Because he took me from you'. So pathetic, Jason had practically begged, and Bruce had nearly slit his throat. So pathetic! to have believed he still even had a father!

He could swear the tears that fell to the floor had a subtle green glow as he wept, he felt helpless, worthless, purposeless! He could feel the Pits churning inside him, burning in his veins with grief and rage that might turn him into a monster for good. He would let it, maybe escaping all this human misery would mean he didn't care so much about someone caring enough to avenge him. Maybe he would finally just be able to kill Joker himself.

A floorboard creaked and he looked up sharply. Danny, sliding through the window after him. He gave Jason a look of sympathy and concern as he approached slowly, his back hunched and his knees bent, making himself as small as he could as he kept closer.

"One of your people saw you running and called me. Jason, what happened?" Danny asked softly, reaching out to touch Jason's face.

Jason couldn't stand, couldn't stand the care, couldn't stand a gentle touch that wasn't from his father. He grabbed Danny's wrist and twisted it, startling a scream out of Danny who so rarely cried out in pain. He shouldn't have, he didn't want to, but he was not in his right mind when he threw Danny to the floor. Danny who did not fight as Jason lashed out at him Again, channeling too much rage and misery into the person who probably deserved it least, but who always let him.

He was barely aware of what he was doing as he hit and kicked, though he knew that for once Danny was actually shielding his head, curled up on the floor. The rage broke suddenly, and all that was left was the sadness and the growing dizziness and nausea of blood loss. He backed away from Danny where he was curled on the floor and slumped into an armchair.

After a drawn out moment of stillness Danny uncurled from where he was laying on the floor, he spat out a tooth and some blood as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Jason noticed that he had a black eye that wasn't healing as quickly as usual, had Jason broken something? Still when Danny looked up at him it was with concern not fear.

This time when he approached it was fully on his hands and knees, creeping over to Jason again, who this time stayed still and let him, Danny knelt between Jason's legs and cupped his jaw, Jason tilted his head back and to the side, bearing his neck to Danny so he could get a good look at the injury.

Danny grimaced sympathetically and kissed the corner of Jason's mouth before flitting away to the bathroom, he came back moments later with the well stocked first aid kit and knelt by Jason again. Jason stayed still, allowing Danny to gently clean the wound, stitching it up, besides the small place where it had ruptured his windpipe so the fluids would have somewhere to go besides down Jason's throat. By the time he finished and had bandaged the wound the black eye had healed as well and besides the blood on Danny's face there was no sign of what Jason had done.

There was no sign of it in Danny's behaviour either, as he curled up on Jason's lap, leaning against his chest and wrapping his arms loosely around his shoulders. There was no fear in Danny's posture, no anger. How could he love so unconditionally? Especially someone like Jason, who so clearly didn't deserve it. They stayed there until Jason fell asleep, exhaustion winning out over everything else.

Jason woke up in bed, and confused, how had Danny gotten him here without waking him?! He must have been more tired then he realized. Danny was there too, on his side next to Jason with an arm around his waist. As soon as he felt Jason stir he sat up and reached over to the bedside table where there was a bottle of water, unopened, which he offered to Jason.

He took it and drank deeply, finishing about half before he offered it back to Danny who took a few gulps as well before putting it down and laying back down with his head propped on Jason's shoulder. "I've never seen you that angry," He murmured against Jason's skin who winced, remembering just what he'd done yesterday. Danny had showered, and cleaned Jason up as best he could so there weren't really any signs of it but still...

"I'm sorry," He murmured and felt Danny shake his head.

"It's okay. I'm not upset, just worried. What happened Jason?" He asked softly.

Jason felt tears burning the back of his eyes again and he huffed, biting his lip for a moment, but Danny deserved to know. "It was my father again. I finally asked him outright why he hadn't avenged me, I basically begged him to, even let Me kill him and witness it. And you know what he did? He slit my throat to stop me, he chose the Joker over me." Jason gave a bitter little laugh, and was genuinely startled by the snarl Danny let out, he'd never heard him make a noise like that, but it continued, a deep, inhuman growl that didn't pause even when Danny spoke, creating a dark undercurrent to his voice.

"Who is your father," He asked, and Jason felt a chill run down his spine.

"Batman, but don't confront him Danny. I don't really have a father anymore. He can't change, I'd rather focus on the things I can change."

"Like the Joker's status as living?" Danny said dryly, but the growling did ease off.

Jason winced and sighed before he looked to the side. "As much as I know the world would be better off without him, something is holding me back from doing it. I do a lot of avenging people, killing rapists and traffickers and shit. Is it so bad to want to Be avenged for once?"

"No, it's not," Danny said softly. "Does it have to be Batman, or would someone else who loves you doing it be enough?" 'Would I be enough' goes unsaid.

"Yes, that would be enough."

----------

Jason's throat healed, months passed and Danny didn't mention the conversation they'd had about the Joker. Jason threw himself into work, gaining control of more of the drug trade to make sure his rules were followed. He set up safe injection sites and rehabs. He killed corrupt police, politicians, traffickers and anyone who harmed children, cleaning out his turf in the most permanent way he could, making it safe for the kids, the working girls, and everyone else who called it home without being a Complete piece of shit.

Danny kept him from completely losing himself, dragging him away from work for date nights, meals and to get some sleep. Occasionally Jason got angry, occasionally he lashed out, but Danny never held onto those times. Danny didn't only pull him away from work though, since they'd gotten together he started participating even more in Jason's work. He was no longer just a 'goon'.

He designed himself a costume, with a pattern different shades of brown and red, a muzzle covering the lower half of his face and a colour. The first time Jason had seen Danny in the tight leather... let's just say Danny hadn't kept it on for very long, Jason Really liked the collar. Danny called himself Hyena, like it was a joke Jason didn't fully understand. He was Jason's second in command and he gave orders when Red Hood wasn't around since he knew what Red Hood would want. It was almost like being able to be two places at once and Jason was incredibly grateful to Danny for it.

The Joker still being out there was the only thing that kept nagging at Jason, and as they got closer and closer to the anniversary of his death the worse it got. He thought he might have been imagining it but he though Danny was pulling away a bit too. He was busy more often then usual and distant in a way that made Jason worry he was keeping secrets, though he had no idea WHAT they might be since his life genuinely did seem to revolve around Red Hood and his mission.

When the day of his death came Danny was nowhere to be seen and Jason shut himself up on his office to focus on work, reading reports and writing responses. Doing whatever he could to try not to think about what had happened this day five years ago, and how Joker was either not thinking about it at all, or celebrating.

He had explicitly said for no one but Fox to disturb him today so when there was a pounding at a door he was ready to Fucking Kill someone! Danny never knocked like that, usually he just let himself in, so he knew that wasn't Danny. He got up from his desk so abruptly he knocked his chair over and stomped over to yank the door open.

"Please don't shoot! Hyena is in trouble!" The goon at the door, Marcus he though, cowered. Marcus got along with Danny, they might even friends, he would know.

"What happened?" Jason snarled through the voice modulator on his helmet, but he wasn't about to bite Marcus' head off anymore.

"He left your turf in costume this morning, I tried to tell him not to but he didn't listen to me! We've got reports he's on his way back but the Bats are on his tail! You have a tracker on him don't you?! He's gonna need help!" Marcus said in a panic and Jason grabbed his coat and his phone.

"Ya I do I'm not going to let them touch him," Jason snarled checking his guns before he practically bolted out of the building wondering what the Hell Danny had gotten himself into.

He grabbed his grapple and headed to meet Hyena as quickly as he could. He knew Danny was fast but Bruce and the Replacement would catch him eventually if none of the others were already on their way to intercept.

He heard Hyena before he saw them, the high cackling of the manic laughter Danny tended to lean into when he was in his Hyena persona, then Jason saw him, he planted his feet on a rooftop just inside crime ally and drew his guns. He saw the moment Danny spotted him and slightly adjusted his flight so he landed on the same roof as Jason, rolling to absorb his momentum and skidded to a stop half hiding behind Jason as he grinned at the Bats who had also come to a stop on the roof across from them with the muzzles of Jason's guns trained on them.

"Sorry about this, I knew what I was doing but I don't know the placement of the cameras all over Gotham, I didn't know they saw me," Danny said, resting his hands on Jason's shoulders.

"What did you do Hyena?" Jason asked without looking away from Batman and Robin.

Danny cackled again, the Hyena laugh that made him shiver just a little. He ducked out from behind Jason and got halfway between the two groups in the stand off. He pulled the bag Jason hadn't noticed off his shoulder and reached inside. Jason could tell Danny was smiling at him from behind the muzzle as he grabbed something and pulled out... The joker's head, Jason's breathing caught in his throat.

"Happy death day baby," Danny said fondly, his voice loud enough that Batman and Robin would be able to hear as well. "Someone cares about you enough to avenge you."

It was brutal, and final, it was a decoration of love as surely as anything else and so much better then a dozen roses. Jason thought he would be horrified, fixated on the head, but the Joker was just a lump of flesh now, a horrified expression fixated on his face as if he hadn't actually expected anyone to kill him. Nothing to be scared of anymore.

"Holy shit," Jason laughed and turned to Danny, scooping him up making Danny yelp in surprise and drop the bag, the Jokers head rolling away as Jason twirled a laughing Danny. "I love you so much Cub! This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me!" He cheered and Danny blushed all the way to his slightly pointed ears, clearly pleased.

It was the first time Jason had said he loved him and Danny felt like he had won the lottery! He couldn't control his purring as Jason put him back down, he snuggled into Jason's side as he aimed his gun and put a bullet in Joker's decapitated head just for the catharsis of it.

"Jaylad," Bruce's voice was soft and betrayed. As if he had any fucking right!

Reminded of his presence Jason's gaze snapped back to Bruce, as did his guns, pointed at Batman and Robin again. "If you're planning to arrest Hyena for this I will not hesitate to shoot. If you take one step inside My territory," Jason snarled at them. "You can take the head if you want, I don't need to keep a lump of rotting flesh, I just needed to know Someone gave a shit." He stepped forward and kicked the head like a football, sending it hurtling at Batman with pretty damn good aim as Danny cackled behind him, high and loud.

Batman caught it, more on instinct then anything, but it was evidence, it was a body, he would take it, and the corpse from wherever Danny had left it. "Now if you'll excuse us, I think we have a celebration to plan!" Jason said before he shot at them, he wasn't aiming to kill, just to make them leave and it worked. They dashed off and Jason turned back towards Danny.

"I love you too," Danny said, soft and warm, pressing himself against Jason's chest. "Now take me home and Fuck me~"

Jason laughed and scooped Danny up into his arms, letting him wrap his arms back around Jason and cling as he set a quick pace towards their nearest safe house.

Part 2.5

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dead on main #jason todd #red hood #batman #the joker #descriptions of violence #Hood and Hyena about to be Joker x Harley 2.0 #murder is a love language now #Danny is self destructive #Jason has anger issues #match made in hell #but hey at least they're happy #unhealthy relationships #me being problematic on main #But at least I'm having fun?

[rainba]

I read that u write dark content sooo,,,,

What would be both boys reaction to MC trying to comit suicide?(Succesfully or unsuccessfully)

U dont need to answer if it makes you feel uncomfy!!!

Such interesting questions... ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Thank you for sending them!

Warning for extremely dark content up ahead!

CW: suicide, violence, typical yandere behaviors

If Kairos’ darling committed suicide and succeeded, his mind would absolutely spiral out of control. He wouldn’t be able to think straight anymore; he'd be so overwhelmed with grief that the mere act of breathing becomes an impossible task. There’s really only two ways this scenario could end.

The first scenario: he isn’t the one who discovers your body. Through some other source, he hears that you’ve committed suicide… He wouldn’t believe it at first. He would think that he’s being pranked– someone in this world is testing him. Kairos would go through hell and back just to confirm that you’re actually dead. And when the truth finally settles in…?

He would be destroyed with guilt. 

He could’ve done something– he should have done something. Anything! It’s all his fault that you ended your own life– if he had just been watching you closer, you would’ve never done it. If he had loved you harder, you would've been happy in this world.

Kairos would collapse onto the floor as he clutches his head. The only thing he can think is: “it’s all my fault.”

Kairos can’t live in this world without you. 

When the day of your funeral finally comes, he’ll attend it while dressed in his finest gothic clothes. Around his neck is a black locket in the shape of a heart, and your picture is safely resting within it. He’ll walk up to your casket and lovingly grab your hand, smiling warmly with tears in his eyes. And then he’d whisper…

“I’ll see you soon, my love.”

In front of everyone, he would pull out a pre-sharpened knife, then slice open his own throat.

Kairos' blood will splatter all over your corpse. Everyone who knows you can only helplessly watch as he bleeds out and clings to your cold body.

This way, everyone will always associate the two of you together, even after the both of you have died...!

Everyone will know just how much he loved you.

The second scenario: Kairos is the one who discovers your body.

Kairos would drop to his knees the moment he sees your corpse– his jaw hanging wide open as silent screams escape his lungs. He wouldn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t know what to say. It’s as if his mind becomes full of static, cracking and disconnecting from reality.

His pale hands would grip your arms as he shakes you, begging you to wake up– but you never do. His heart shatters.

Just like in the last scenario, all he can feel is guilt.

Kairos wouldn’t call the police. After all, if he calls the police, they’ll take you away–!! He needs to be by your side! What if you wake up? What if his mind is playing tricks on him? What if this is just another one of his fucked-up nightmares?

Kairos sobs and shakes as he wraps his arms and legs around you, refusing to let you go. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink, he really doesn’t move at all. All he can do is absent mindedly stroke your hair as your body enters rigor mortis, slowly decaying in his loving embrace.

It would take a few days for his mind to return somewhat back to normal. You haven’t moved– not even once… He finally accepts that this is reality. You truly are dead.

It’s over. Everything’s over. His life is over. You’re gone… There’s no point in living anymore.

And it would end the same way as the last: while holding your hands, he’ll slice open his throat, and he’ll bleed out right beside you. He makes sure to intertwine his fingers with yours, wanting his last moments on earth to be romantic.

As for Luka: he would be enraged. Hurt. Bitter.

How could you…? How could you commit suicide like this?? 

Did you do it just to hurt him? Did you hate him that much? Was life just that cruel to you, and you couldn’t take it anymore…? 

Luka would have to take multiple weeks off of work; he can barely function. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to cook anything, and he’d lose tons of weight. Dark bags would form under his eyes. His tail would look disheveled and nearly matted. The only thing Luka does after your passing is lay in bed, staring at the empty space right beside him… The space that you were supposed to occupy.

He’d spend hours blankly staring at framed photographs of you. Rereading your old texts, listening to old voicemails, all while yearning so badly for your touch. Every time he passes out from exhaustion, all he sees is your perfect face.

When he dreams, the two of you are running around in a bright and sunny field– he’s always playfully chasing you, pouncing on you before showering you in loving kisses. In his dreams, you’re still alive, safe and sound. In his dreams, you're always smiling.

Luka despises waking up.

It's agonizing. He would often wish that he'd just die in his sleep.

But unlike Kairos, he wouldn’t go through with kill himself– he can’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he just constantly surrounds himself with things that remind him of you.

His phone's wallpaper is a picture of you. His ringtone is your favorite song. He wears jewelry that reminds him of you. He gets a tattoo of your name across his chest.

Everywhere Luka goes, he’s haunted by your ghost. He’d never be able to recover from losing you.

You were the first person to ever make him feel alive; now he’ll forever be an empty shell, doomed to never feel anything ever again.

#ask #kairos posting #luka posting #i LOVE angst!! #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere

[loudclan-clangen]

do you think Fiercestripe tried to clean Mothtree like she always did before, but this time off blood and dirt and grit? even though there was too much blood and it kept flowing, despite the injuries closing on their own over time (im not a corpse expert, but generally that's how that works). she hopelessly tries to rouse Moth to wake up as she keeps going, futilely believing that maybe she will wake up and complain like she always did and they will have a laugh about it. but Moth doesn't wake up and other cats wonder when will be the best time to get Fierce away from the body so they can bury it.

or is it just me

Hi anon, this imagery was great, you’re absolutely right, please accept this slightly more happy interpretation cause we’ve been focusing only sad stuff too much recently:

Grouping these two together cause I’m trying to get done with the Moon 18 related asks to move onto bigger and better things. Fierce is… Okay. She’s not doing well, obviously, but she has a very loving mate, at least one healthy daughter, and enough life experience to keep her from completely spiraling. Grief and stress are taking their toll but Fiercestripe is not the kind of cat to just lay down and give up, ya know? Sure, she’s probably a little overprotective of Rosehipkit, and maybe she doesn’t get much sleep because she’s busy listening to make sure that Rosehipkit doesn’t stop breathing, but that’s all expected given the situation. While she doesn’t know about the rosehip omen (Wildfirecry didn’t have the heart to tell her) she knows her mate well enough to understand that he doesn’t have much hope for their daughter, and she is trying her best to stay strong, knowing that Dogwoodkit will need her regardless of what happens to Rosehipkit while not emotionally isolating herself from Rose. In the end, she’s staying strong in the face of everything. It’s the only thing she knows how to do.

#loudclanasks #loudclan #cw sad #cw gore #cw mild gore #cw blood #probably the last mothpaw centric ask for a while #gotta work on moon 19 #cw death #cw cat death #cw dead cat #cw dead body

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Regret & Rememberance || Grieving!Ghost

Rating: M + DDNE Words: 2.9K~ Pairing: Gravekeeper!Reader x Grieving!Ghost CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., death, child death, mourning/grief, canon 09 ghost backstory, dissociation, cemetery/graveyard, graves/headstones. Tags: you/your pronouns, gn!reader, angst, flower language/symbolism, hurt/comfort, platonic relationship. Summary: A hobby of yours causes you to cross paths with an undead man. a/n: for those who care about flower meanings, like me... ;)

You started volunteering at one of the local cemeteries after putting in a request with the town hall.

It was a simple thing, really. You were just providing extra help to the ground's keepers who did little else but mow the grass, trim the trees and bushes, and blast away leaves and dirt from the headstones and pathways with a hose.

You bought your own supplies with the help of a small voucher the town hall provided you, and then you went and cleaned the headstones at the cemetery.

You quite liked doing it. You always liked cleaning and polishing things until they were squeaky clean. And so, you'd carefully remove moss and overgrowth, and wash the engraved lettering in the old graves, and, sometimes, out of your own dime, you'd use a small paint brush and a little jar of enamel paint to fill in the lettering and make it readable again.

It was a passion project for you; you enjoyed seeing the graves come back to their original (or as close as you could get it) state, and even read up on funeral/cemetery/work/life records at the town hall to find out who was who.

It was peaceful, almost therapeutic. You tended to pick the times when you knew the cemetery would be mostly empty and you'd go row-by-row, eyeing the older graves and seeking out the ones that need caring.

It was during one of those times that you saw him for the first time.

As you meandered about, carrying a small caddie of cleaning supplies in one hand, and pulling the hood of your waterproof parka over your head with the other, you notice him.

It was a very lazy Saturday afternoon. Wintertime, Christmas had been just three days before. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds, giving the cemetery and even darker and gloomier atmosphere, the rain showering down over the entire city of Manchester.

He was tall, so, so tall, and with shoulders so wide and arms so thick, even below the hoodie he's wearing... And yet he looked so small, as he looked on at the graves at his feet...

You knew those graves, you'd memorized the majority. It was the Riley family. A really big tragedy, a recent one, just the year before, on Christmas Eve. The news had said the house burned down because of a faulty heater, and killed everyone, including a little boy.

You settled at a grave not far from him and regarded the man with knitted brows, trying to sneak a glance under his hoodie, maybe catch his eye, and offer him a smile and some courage... But underneath, he might was well have been a void.

The dark clouds and atmosphere only made it that his face was nearly completely shrouded in darkness, and the dark scarf wrapped around his neck and hiked up to cover his nose and mouth certainly didn't help.

You knelt by the grave you were going to clean and began removing the cleaning supplies from your caddie, grabbing a small bench scraper so you could remove the moss growing on the front face of the grave.

But before you began, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at the man again. He must have felt watched, however, because he turned his head toward you and from underneath his hood, all you saw were a few short blonde hairs peeking out.

You tried to do exactly what you intended, offering him a small smile and a nod... And then turned away to properly working, trying to give him space, or respect... You tried. Really. But... something about him... In less than a minute, you looked over again.

And he was gone without a trace. Looking around, you saw no tall, dark figures speed-walking away.

For some reason, a chill went down your spine when you noticed you were alone again... Almost like he had been a ghost, a figure of your imagination...

-

You saw him a lot more times after that. Or, at least, you were pretty sure it was a Him. Or, at least, you were pretty sure it was a Him.

You'd arrive and he'd already be there, almost like he timed it perfectly every time.

Never a word exchanged, though you looked at him from a distance and, sometimes, he looked at you too.

He'd always leave a small flower arrangement between the center two graves. Purple hyacinths, white chrysanthemums, and black dahlias.

And then he'd leave not long after you arrived.

Sometimes you wondered if you being there made him leave... If he wanted to avoid being there when you were, to avoid being stared at. But you couldn't help yourself from staring.

Truth be told, you'd go long weeks without seeing him, but he'd always come back...

And when he did come back, he'd come pay the graves a visit multiple times a week for a few weeks...

Whenever he wasn't there, you dared to venture toward the grave and gaze upon, especially right after he had left... And you'd pay you respects to the family buried there...

-

Sitting in the public library attached to the town hall, you carefully combed through the cemetery records of the last year, with a hot tea beside you.

Riley. There it is.

Obituary notices for five members of the same family, on the same date.

Joanna Riley, née Pearson, aged 57. Thomas Riley, aged 33. Beth Riley, aged 32. Joseph Riley, aged 4. and Simon Riley, aged 37.

Two mothers, and their three sons. An innocent child in the middle of it all. All killed by an accidental fire, with a starting point on a faulty heater, right before an important holiday.

Their obituaries said that Joanna had worked in a textile factory for most of her life, Thomas was a cook at a restaurant, Beth was an esthetician and Simon was a... soldier.

You looked at the pictures attached to the obituary, of each of them... So alive, so... free. Pictures taken from Facebook profiles or school records, in Joseph's case... All of them with big happy smiles...

Joanna had big eye bags, but she had wrinkles in the corners of her blue eyes, and deep smile lines, like she'd spent a lifetime laughing... Her hair was dark and matched her sons'.

Thomas was thin, and prominent cheekbones and a dip in the cheeks themselves, as well as deep eyebags with bulging eyes, but a surprisingly pleasant smile on his face.

Beth's picture showed that her nose tended to scrunch whenever she smiled, her blonde hair tied back into a bun and a fringe falling over her blue eyes.

Little Joseph had a toothy grin and was wearing a school uniform, his brown hair swept to the side by a comb and his blue eyes sparkling... You found your lip trembling at the thought that, perhaps, that was his first day of kindergarten picture...

And, lord, Simon Riley... He was halfway through winking when the picture was taken. He had the warmest brown eyes and the smuggest little smirk on his lips as he held Joseph in his arms, whose face had been partially cropped out of the frame, but clearly was mirroring his uncle, while holding a little teddy bear with a blue bow around its neck.

It made you sad, to see those pictures. Sadder than when you researched all the other graves' you've cleaned. Many of them included children too... But something... something about those kind faces...

-

You couldn't help but wonder who he was.

Maybe a family friend?

A distant cousin?

Maybe someone from Beth's side of the family, since she's a blonde and the stranger is too?

You hadn't dared approach him, striking a conversation but you were so full of questions.

Was it wrong to be so curious about a stranger who's only at the funeral to mourn and pay respects? (Definitely.)

You wanted to ask him everything.

Who is he?

Why does he come visit at the worst times and days, when it's rainy and dark, and empty?

Why does he disappear so often for weeks at a time?

Why does he keep coming back?

Someone had to pay for the funeral arrangements, after all... Maybe it was him. Maybe he's family.

Why else would he casually drop £200 worth of arrangements on the graves every time he comes?

...

Truth be told, you hadn't seen him in nearly two months. It was the longest it'd gone since coming to visit.

Around Christmas of the following year, and he hadn't come to see the graves... and you knew that for certain. Not only did you not cross paths with him, but there were no flowers at the graves.

Could it perhaps be that he's trying to move on?

Or maybe something happened to him?

You hated to think of the possibility that the stranger could've given up, moved away, or died himself.

Worse, it made your heart ache...

So you made a choice. One of those times before you went in to clean another grave, you stopped by the florist around the corner.

Dropping nearly as much money as he usually did in a gigantic arrangement, a couple of candles, you wobbled into the cemetery again.

-

Simon Ghost sat on his bed in the shitty flat he was renting from a nice old lady who didn't ask too many questions.

It was barely a flat, more so a cramped tin of sardines that the council allowed to be called a 'studio' because it had enough space to fit a bed, a counter, fridge and stove, and had an attached bathroom.

He had just gotten clearance from the military hospital to be able to walk around without his crutches and just his cast boot, and good thing too.

Christmas had been days ago and he hadn't gone to visit the graves just yet... he could feel the need to see them scratching in the back of his head, trying to get out, digging into his bowns..

After succeeding in tying the laces on his regular boot, he pushed himself up to his feet, a bit shaky and unsure as he attempted to shift his weight around.

But, after succeeding, he wobbled over to his small wardrobe, grabbing his usual hoodie and scarf combo, pulling them on.

He pondered about opening a window to air out the flat, the scent of hair bleach and chemicals still lingering in the air... But he decided against it.

He left the flat and locked the door, then carefully limped his way to the bus stop beside his block of flats.

...

It was already getting dark when he made it to the cemetery and past the gate, carefully limping his way to the graves.

He looked around the graveyard with narrowed eyes, seeking you out. He wondered if you were around, if you were also looking for him, or if you didn't even notice he had been gone.

Had he still been Simon, he would've already gone up to you, struck up a conversation... and he would now too, joke about how he'd been 'slacking off', mutter some nonsense of 'working hard/hardly working'...

And yet he wasn't Simon.

'Simon' was buried in the grave he was going to now visit and, unlike the rest of the Riley family, he was getting no pity.

Not like mum, Beth, Tommy and Joseph... And yet no one but Ghost was ever there to pity them, to mourn them. And once he was gone, no one would even remember them.

They deserved better than what they got. They didn't what happened to them. They didn't deserve a death that gruesome...

And t was thanks to Simon that they were dead in the first place. He didn't deserve any pity.

Ghost would not mourn Simon. Ever.

...

And yet, as he approached the graves, the large arrangement he always brought with him, tucked under his arm, Ghost stopped in his tracks.

A beautiful light arrangement sat in the same exact spot he usually placed his own... right between Tommy's and mum's headstones. It was light and feminine and... cute. A stark difference to his own, dark and moody.

He crouched in front of the graves, setting aside his own arrangement and, very carefully so, running a trembling hand over the petals of the flowers. Fresh, not just from the recent rain, but from being a recent addition. Maybe only a day or two old.

A mix of pink and white carnations, an overwhelming amount of baby's breath, and some kind of herb stems wrapped around them.

Carefully, Ghost plucked one of the stems of the herb and brought it up to his nose to smell it. The scent of chemicals from his hair bleach didn't make identifying the scent any easier, but, after a moment, he realized it was rosemary.

Rising to his feet and looking around once more, Ghost sought you out again, trying to find the sight of you hunched over, scrubbing away at one headstone or another. No sign of you.

Looking down at the graves again, his eyes got drawn to something out of the corner of his eye. A small statue that had not been bought by him, leaning against Beth and Joseph's shared grave.

A brown ceramic teddy bear... with a baby blue ribbon around his neck.

Just like the one he'd bought in a Poundland when coming back from deployment, in a hurry, after Tommy had called him to let him know Beth had gone into labour... not wanting to show up empty-handed at the hospital.

It had become Joseph's favourite toy, he'd sleep holding it, would drag it along behind him as he learned to walk, and would take it to kindergarten every day.

"Fuck..." Ghost hissed as he fell to his knees in front of the graves, his fingers digging into the wet grass and his eyes closing as his whole form was racked by sobs.

-

You didn't know how long he'd been there. But he was soaking wet, dripping all over, on his hands and knees, hiccuping and crying at the foot of the graves.

You noted the way his leg was in a cast inside a black boot, which helped ease your worries that he hadn't given up on coming, he'd just been unable to for a while.

Swallowing your fear, you bounded up to him, holding your umbrella protectively over the two of you as you stopped by his side.

He looked the smallest you'd ever seen him...

Taking a deep breath, you slowly crouched beside him and placed a hand on his broad shoulder, feeling him shudder, his breath hitching, audible even through the wind and the aggressive pitter-patter of the rain on your umbrella.

"Breathe... It's okay..." You murmured as you looked at him. "Breathe."

The man took a deep, ragged breath, shuddering with each one, his arms, impossibly strong, trembling and struggling to hold him above the grass which was now essentially more mud than grass.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped." You murmured and tilted your head so you could peek below his hoodie, to check on him.

Bad choice on your part, because only then did you notice that his scarf had been loosened by him, to allow him to breathe, revealing his face.

He was deformed, badly so. His cheeks were hollow and cut through by a jagged Glasgow smile, and his skin so red and blemished, you'd think he had been burned alive at one point in his life.

Those were no ordinary scars... from a small injury, or an accident... They were too precise, not random... Those were... inflicted on him.

He didn't reply, nor did he try to cover his face or turn away, he just shuddered more, hiccuping and sniffling amidst his tears.

"I hadn't seen you in a while..." You told him gently. "I was... worried that you'd never come back." You admitted. "So... I figured I should look after them for you."

He gulped, audibly so, deep in his throat. For a while he didn't speak though his lips pushed and pulled like he was chewing on his cheek, looking for how to answer.

"Thank you." He murmured, his voice gruff and raspy, the words sounding like they had been eating away at him, gnawing at his bones.

"Do you... want me to toss it all out?" You asked slowly, watching as he thrashed his head side to side and sniffled again, hissing through clenched teeth.

"N-No..." He replied and took a hulking breath, like it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

"Okay..." You added and nodded solemnly. "Want me to help you up... because of your foot?" You offered.

"No... I've got it." He added with a nod and swallowed the lump in his throat as he closed his hands into fists to keep himself from lying on the dirt.

You paused and looked between him and the graves. "I'll leave you be, then..." You replied and turned to collect your cleaning supply caddie from the path beside you...

Only for one of his hands to suddenly catch your bicep and stop you, which caused you to freeze. "Stay..." He pleaded as you slowly turned to face him again.

His face was turned toward you as well. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, his nose had a deviated septum, and his whole face was riddled with scars and blemishes...

And yet those brown eyebrows of his... and those brown eyes... the way they stared at you... Sorrowful, afraid, hurt but... warm... You remembered seeing them, in that fucking obituary notice months ago...

You were looking a dead man right in the eyes.

#ikea writes 💚 #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #masterlist #simon “ghost” riley #simon motherfucking riley #simon riley #09 ghost backstory #canon 09 ghost backstory #09 ghost #cod mw #can be either ghost really #because i believe 2019 ghost also has the same backstory #cemetery fic #mourning fic #tw death of a child #tw child death #tw death #tw scar #tw torture #angst #cod angst #cod hurt/comfort #hurt comfort

[calaisreno]

The Case of the Reluctant Bridegroom

1077 words / Prompt: Awkward

John Watson is not a mystery. 

Thirty seconds after he comes through the door, Sherlock knows that he’s not been sleeping well, probably because he’s drinking every night, thinking that will put him out. Mary has a cat which needs to be groomed so it won’t leave hair all over John’s trousers. She’s not a fastidious housekeeper. John’s shoes tell him this: they’re still wearing last night’s mud. She didn’t mind him wearing them into the house, and he was too absent-minded to notice he’d left them on. And he’s lost almost half a stone since Sherlock returned. A happy husband-to-be doesn’t lose weight. Mary might be an awful cook, but John has never been picky about what he eats. 

Absent-minded, not sleeping, weight loss, drinking more than he used to. John is troubled, and Sherlock would like to know why. 

Naturally, he can’t ask. They’ve never done that kind of probing, not since Sherlock deduced his cane and his phone and his haircut. They hadn’t even been introduced at that point, and Sherlock could see who he really was.

The man standing at the door is easily deduced, but none of those deductions explain what’s wrong. Any questions he asks will be awkwardly deflected.

The night Sherlock returned from the dead, John hit him. That’s something he certainly should have seen coming. John is a devoted man, and didn’t like having his devotion (his grief) mocked. 

Sherlock understands that, and regrets it deeply. His adventures in Serbia left him below par, or he wouldn’t have barged into that restaurant, thinking they would have a good laugh about his funeral. 

He understands the John who poured his heart out in the railway car, thinking they were going to die. And the John who was ready to kill him when he realised Sherlock had found the switch. He even understands why John didn’t hit him and walk away again, why he just shook his head when Sherlock said, killing me— that’s so two years ago. 

And this is the knot Sherlock must unwind: John blames himself. Everyone else has accepted Sherlock’s return, gotten past it, and moved on. It’s too long to be holding a grudge, John thinks, so he forgave Sherlock. But he’s troubled.

What does a man like John do with feelings? In that, he’s not so different from Sherlock. He declares them unimportant, non-existent, and pretends all is well. 

“Anything on?” John asks. 

Sherlock shakes his head. “Sorry, no. Dull as ditches. But I’m glad you’re here.”

John raises his eyebrows, frowns sceptically at his old chair. “Right. I suppose we haven’t seen much of each other. Sorry about that. Flu season, you know.”

“Of course. You’re well, though? And Mary?”

John blinks. He still hasn’t sat down. “Yeah. We’re fine. No problems.”

“I’ll make tea,” he says, “unless you’d like something stronger.”

“What’ve you got?”

He remembers the last time he opened the refrigerator. Better not do that while John’s here. “No beer. A half a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black.”

He pours them each a couple fingers, and watches as John settles into his chair. Settles is the wrong word. He ought to look familiar and comfortable sitting there, across from Sherlock. But he looks uneasy, like a man who is doing something that embarrasses him. 

What would embarrass John Watson? He’s an honourable man. He feels honour-bound to forgive Sherlock, but he’s still angry. He’s ashamed of his grief, of his anger. Sherlock was brilliant, as always, fooling everyone into thinking he was dead. Making a fool of John.

Sherlock has apologised. He did that as soon as he realised that John wasn’t just shocked, he was angry. Tricking John into forgiving him was more than a bit not good— but he knew that there had to be some way to get them beyond what neither of them could say. Talking wasn’t something they did; in their case it was useless. They just needed to get to the part where they were chasing criminals again. Back to before.

John refills his glass. Neither of them has thought of anything to say. He can see John’s eyes losing focus. 

“How are things—“ He breaks off, realising they’ve already covered non-specific pleasantries. “The wedding, I mean. The—“ he waves a hand vaguely, “the plans. I suppose there’s a lot to… erm… plan.”

“Mary’s got it all under control. I’m not sure why it takes nearly a year to plan something that’s twenty minutes of church, and then dinner.” John smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He truly has the most expressive face, but he’s guarded now, uncertain. Troubled. 

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” Sherlock begins. Again, he waves a hand vaguely.

“You?” John is smiling, but it’s an incredulous smile. “Plan a wedding?”

“I have a very organised mind.”

“And no tolerance for tedium,” John adds. 

“I’ll just… well, let me know if you need to escape. I’ll come up with a case.”

They lapse into silence again, and Sherlock imagines that it’s a slightly more comfortable silence. Not quite like 2010, but fine, in a different way from before. He remembers the silent breakfasts, both of them too sleepy after a late night to say much. Tea, toast, and John half-awake, his hair rumpled…

It’s too bad that a person can’t know in the moment when their lives are perfect.  That’s the tragedy of time, how perspective changes and we don’t realise we’re happy until we’re not. 

The two years he was gone barely seemed like two months. There were nights when he dreamed of Baker Street, wished for John’s company. On the whole, though, he was too busy surviving to think about how long it’d been. Not until he saw John’s picture, the horrible moustache, did it begin to sink in how long it had been. In the mind of John Watson, it must have seemed an eternity.

“I should go.” John stands and walks into the kitchen. Sherlock hears him rinse his glass and place it back in the cupboard. The bottle is empty, and Sherlock still hasn’t finished his first glass.

John stands at the door, looking at him for a moment, then nods and heads out. His feet are slightly unsteady on the stairs, Sherlock thinks. The front door shuts, and he’s alone.

In his mind, he’s opening a new file: The Case of the Reluctant Bridegroom. As always, his mind is already turning over solutions.

---

Maybe this one needs a sequel?

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @ninasnakie

#mayprompts2024 #bbc sherlock #johnlock #my fics

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

I was wondering if there are any fics where the ending is still the same (aziraphale goes to heaven, crowley stays on earth) but they properly discuss it and understand each other’s choice? This may be a bit too specific so no worries if you don’t know any.

Thank you 💕

Hey! Here are some fics where the ending is the same, but they take some time to talk a little more first...

The Other Side of Forgiveness by JazzRazzberry (NR)

Crowley should leave. He should really go now, before he does anything worse than what he’s already said and done. Before he gets forgiven again. He should go, the Bentley is outside, he can drive and drink until he forgets. Before he does something stupid. Before he kisses Aziraphale again. He should just go. Although. Might as well bare everything to his angel before he’s gotta leave forever, right? Aziraphale is still looking at him with those eyes, those damned eyes.

A tight embrace to say goodbye by yellowdaisy2023 (G)

Aziraphale can feel the lump forming in the back of his throat. His eyes sting with unshed tears as he turns, looking away from Crowley. His whole body is turned away from him, almost as if he’s closing himself off. It breaks Crowley’s heart. In all the years they’ve known each other, after all the fights, they’ve never done that. They’ve never closed each other off. Crowley takes a step back, ready to leave his angel forever, when he sees the slightest shudder in Aziraphale’s shoulders. Crowley pauses, watching carefully. It happens again, a small shake in the usually tense shoulders. He’s crying. Or Someone on TikTok pointed out that Aziraphale was about to sob before Crowley kissed him and I ran with it

This is Not an Apology (This is Not a Goodbye) by ThisIsWhyILoveReading (T)

After watching Aziraphale leave for Heaven, Crowley drives to his newly-reacquired flat and decides to sleep his pain away for the next few centuries, at least. Unfortunately, a certain angel shows up at his bedside and they are forced to try and Talk Things Out.

the choiceless hope in grief by Addicted2Demons (T)

"Don't go." The words are ripped from him involuntarily, a swelling need rising behind his breastbone and expanding like a balloon at a rapid pace, terrifying him in its intensity. He wasn't going to say that; it hadn't been a conscious thought, but there the words are anyway, writhing in the air between them, screaming out. Crowley stops, but doesn't turn, hand poised to turn the knob of the bookshop door, shoulders pulled up to his ears. Guarded. Hurt. Tender, inside, Aziraphale knows. He's always been so tender. A heart he was never supposed to have torn and bleeding in his ragged chest for centuries, possibly millennia. -- or -- Aziraphale has just been kissed by his demon for the first time. He suddenly, desperately, can't let him leave the bookshop without doing it again.

Things Left Unsaid by very_normal_abt_this (G)

S2 finale compliant fix it fic. Aziraphale decides that the first conversation with Crowley about going to Heaven was terrible, and that there are other things he needs to say to the Demon. Before he leaves.

one last nightingale by blackeyedblonde (E)

“Listen,” Crowley says abruptly from where he’s standing by the door, pointing above their heads. “Hear that?” They’re running out of options, he’s running out of time to make Crowley listen, and in his mounting panic somehow all the angel can do is bluff. “I don’t hear anything!” he says in huffed exasperation. The true weight of that silence wedged between them slugs Aziraphale somewhere beneath the breastbone when he realizes, dazedly, that the grandfather clock behind him has stopped ticking for the very first time in more than three centuries. “Nothing…at all,” Aziraphale breathes out, eyes widening as he whips his head around to gape at the forestalled clock. Upon turning again he searches Crowley’s face for some sort of affirmation, for any kind of clue that this is the trapdoor he’d been haplessly hoping for. “My word. Did you just—?” “Sure did,” Crowley retorts, lowering his arm so it slaps against his side like a limp fish. Outside the world continues, Soho going about its business as usual, but even the old metronome across the room on the angel’s desk has stopped its waving arm mid-air. “Now start explaining, we haven’t got all day.”

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fix-it #communication #short fic #canon compliant #mod d

[yesimwriting]

how do you think the canon events of saltburn would’ve maybe played out a bit differently if lovie was there? do you think there’s a chance that it SOMEHOW could’ve prevented felix’s death and everything else from happening?? I’m just curious abt any thoughts you might have on this honestly

i've gotten versions of this question in my inbox before, and i even have some drabbles/general thoughts about this in my drafts

but bc i am writing/planning out a longer fic that will focus on the actual plot of saltburn more, questions like this are hard to answer without spoiling that,, but i feel like the way you worded this question makes it easier to give general thoughts on lovie's role in the plot

and bc most of lovie's influence on the plot comes from character dynamics, this is a bit of a character analysis on felix, oliver, and lovie and how they interact

this came out way longer than expected

lovie would be both a catalyst and an inhibitor to felix's death in oliver's eyes

felix and lovie are so close, so attached at the hip, oliver starts to view them as a single entity, a unit. this isn't an immediate thing, but the longer oliver's around them and the more desperate and delusional he becomes, the more their identities merge.

now, bc lovie's "value" comes from her proximity to felix, felix will always inherently be "more" to oliver. however, this intrinsic "more" quality that felix possesses is dangerous. it's part of the reason i think oliver kills felix. too much of a good thing--that's what felix is.

felix is so perfect, you let him consume your soul without even realizing it. even though lovie is great and a piece of felix, she's so much safer. because of this, her existence makes it easier for oliver to swallow the thought of turning on (and getting rid of) felix. because a more attainable, more manageable 'version' of him will still be around.

also oliver starts to want lovie more in certain ways because felix wants her. if he can get lovie (especially before felix), that makes him more like felix. it's part of the process of oliver shifting from wanting felix to wanting to be felix.

despite the fact that lovie makes the thought of letting go of felix more bearable, lovie's presence would also make it hard to get rid of felix.

logistically, they're rarely apart. it's hard to poison someone when there's always a witnesss. and, if oliver only wanted to kill one of them, poisoning wouldn't be as easy because lovie and felix share almost everything.

also, oliver is smart and selfish. he knows that killing one would devastate the other--they're a set. oliver doesn't want a depressed lovie, and he doesn't want a depressed felix. he knows that getting rid of one throws their entire dynamic and world out of balance. their grief and depression wouldn't be fleeting, it would be all consuming.

if lovie lost feix, or vice versa, they'd each be depressed in a way that takes all the fun out of it for oliver. if either of them is that heartbroken, it's harder to project any manic pixie dream girl fantasies onto them.

general notes on oliver's feelings for lovie and felix:

i think oliver would eventually grow fond of their group dynamic. not fond in a comfortable way, especially at first, because of how obsessive oliver's character is and because of how close lovie and felix are.

but with time, it's easier to feel secure in his place in their life. he starts to want them as a bonded pair. a big part of that definitely comes from his voyeuristic tendencies. it gets to the point where it's not always sexual. he likes watching them interact, watching them take care of each other because of the intimacy of it all. i could write a drabble focusing on oliver and voyeurism when it comes to lovie and felix to explain it more if anyone wants me to elaborate

also, because there's two of them and oliver manages to engrain himself into their dynamic (to a certain extent), his obsession becomes a little less overwhelming. don't get me wrong, he's still unhinged, but the ability to place all of that onto two people stabilizes him to an extent. there's a balance to it.

i think this 'balance' would make it more likely for felix and lovie to live, but i can also see oliver jumping to lock their relationship down by killing off everyone else in felix's family faster. especially if he felt like felix was starting to lose interest. the grief and solitude would make felix rely on oliver, and lovie would follow. it'd be just the three of them, just like oliver wanted.

a more canonical saltburn ending

as a final side note, i think even if everything worked out exactly the same, lovie is the most likely to live. if you think about it, oliver only killed off the cattons, which lovie isn’t. even though he views lovie as a part of felix, she'll always be the 'safer' version of him.

he'd keep her around as a sort of token, a reminder of that summer, the cattons, and most importantly felix. lovie's life and presence would become a memorial dedicated to felix in oliver's eyes.

however, oliver is impulsive and easily startled. if lovie found out that he killed felix (or anyone if we're going with the scenario that oliver decides to keep both felix and lovie and no one else), he'd probably get scared and impulsively kill lovie.

if lovie found out oliver lied, i think he'd try to manipulate her into keeping it a secret at first, but if she reacted the 'wrong' way he'd feel 'betrayed' enough to snap and kill her without thinking.

i can also see him trying to preemptively discredit her, maybe making felix think lovie has been using him, but i think he'd know it probably wouldn't work. lovie and felix are together constantly, in what moment would she have had the time to betray him 😭

#ask #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #bestfriend!felix #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi x reader #bestfriend!felix x reader

[cealesti]

You sound so intelligent, how can you not realize that Voldemort and Harry could never work because it is IMPOSSIBLE to fall in love with your own REFLEX??!

Oh! Thank you? I think?

I'll give you this, anon: kudos for introducing me to a brand new criticism of Tomarrymort and also for having me scratching my head trying to understand what you meant.

I imagine that you're referring to my usage of "mirrors" in this post. If so, what I said was:

"I like [Tomarrymort] because they’re narrative mirrors who parallel each other blatantly and, even when they don’t, they always seem to rhyme, at least."

A "narrative mirror" isn't a 1:1, line-by-line reflection of another character. We use this term to refer to characters who have narrative similarities in their backstories, experiences, values, principles, etc, and whose similarities serve a narrative purpose. Harry and Voldemort, as narrative mirrors, illustrate one of the core theses of the books, namely the value of forgiveness and love ('love as sacrifice' in particular, as @saintsenara is, quite correctly, fond of pointing out). I'd also argue that, through Harry and Voldemort, the books more generally explore what it means to be human, through the aforementioned love and forgiveness, yes, but also through their drastically different views and experiences with death and grief.

If this is what you meant, then of course a character can fall in love with their narrative mirror (introducing here the obligatory disclaimer that, of course, love is unpredictable and fantastic and fanfiction is even more so, and neither has to bow down to what we consider "possible" or even "reasonable"). Of course narrative mirrors can "work" in a relationship.

The ways in which Harry and Voldemort mirror each other are also the reason why they understand each other so well, a fact that does not go unnoticed in canon by either of them or by their respective allies (as I also mentioned in their previous post).

There are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike.

Their similarities, and this degree of understanding and grudging respect they develop for each other, makes for a very strong base from which a relationship, toxic or not, could easily spring forth.

It's free real estate, anon.

(That they're narrative foils as well only makes the whole thing juicier.)

#eve.docx #eve.txt #tomarrymort #soulseeker #unironically got a little flustered by 'you sound so intelligent' like? oh? you think so? shucks #asks #anons

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Hard Habit to Break

Pairing: EddieMunsonxOriginalCharacter

Summary: When a chance at the career he always wanted came knocking at the same time that she received the worst news of her life, they were forced apart. Long distance, time on the road, and stories in the tabloids destroyed anything they had left, leading him down a dark road, playing the role of the bad boy rockstar his manager wanted from him. Now tragedy will bring him back to the town he swore to never step foot in again and face to face with her for the first time in years. Will he be able to stick to the plan or will she be the one habit he can't break?

Trigger Warnings: Cancer battle, death of a parent, grief, addiction

18+ Only

Then

Eyes the color of whiskey, of the forest after the leaves had fallen, of safety and comfort, of love, of everything that had ever meant anything to her, meant everything to her, beseeched her, begged her to say what he wanted to hear. But she couldn’t. Her brain screamed at her, her heart raged at her, her blood was rushing, pounding through her ears, an insistent sound, her entire body revolting against the words that were coming out of her mouth but she had no choice. What else was she supposed to do? It was an impossible choice, one she’d never imagined she would have to make.

“Eddie…I can’t,” Tori whispered, each word fracturing a piece of her as she knew it would. The fracturing would continue, shards of her breaking off bit by bit, until there was nothing left of her but a pile of brittle sawdust on the floor. 

“Come on Funshine, don’t do this to me,” he pleaded, those ridiculously long lashes sparkling in the sun, beads of tears barely hanging onto the ends, each one just tearing her heart a bit more. If they fell, she was done for. She couldn’t bear to watch him cry. “I can’t do this without you, baby. I just can’t. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

She took his hands in hers, as warm as the rays of sunshine beating down on them. Hands that knew every curve of her body, hands that molded perfectly to her face, hands that held her together, hands that soothed her soul with just a touch. They were her hands. She knew every callous on those fingers, every ridge, every single line that shot through each palm. She’d traced them more times than she could count. She had these hands memorized, the chunky rings that left imprints on her skin just like this man had left imprints on her heart. 

Her fingers toyed with those rings, the massive skull, the boar’s head, the cross. She brought his hands to her lips, pressing them over the small black stone of the ring she’d bought him for his birthday her junior year of high school. Tori swallowed, the action painful, her throat refusing to swallow down the sharp, jagged agony of what she knew she had to do whether she wanted to or not. 

“I’m sorry. I have to stay,” she cried, staring at his hands, his short fingernails that he always bit down short. Her boy, full of nervous energy that kept him constantly in motion even when sitting still. They were jagged now, copper tracing along the ridges where he’d bitten too short and her heart broke just a bit more, knowing she was the reason for it. “You know that I have to stay right now. I can’t leave her.”

“Then I’ll stay too,” Eddie choked out, on the verge of panic, as if that were a real possibility. As if there were any reality where she would allow him to make that sacrifice for her, to give up everything he’d ever wanted. “I’ll tell them no. I’ll stay with you. I should be here with you anyway. I can’t leave you alone right now. You’re going to need me if…” He stopped, pausing to think about his words, a rarity for him which only indicated even more how much he truly loved her, not wanting to wound her worse than she already was. “When this is all over, when she’s better, then we’ll go together.”

Tori shook her head, finally bringing her eyes to his, sapphire meeting sepia, suffering mirrored in both shades. God, she loved him so much and she loved him even more for offering, for wanting to be by her side, for thinking it was even something he should consider but it wasn’t. She would never let him put his life on hold, possibly ruining his chances at achieving his dream, a dream he’d held for so long, for her. 

“No, baby. No…I can’t let you do that. You and the boys have worked too damn hard for this. You deserve this,” she told him, willing him to listen, to accept this because the tighter he held on, the harder it was for her to let him go and she had to. “You can’t turn this down. This is too big of an opportunity, Eddie. I can’t…no, I won’t let you do that.”

“You don’t get to decide for me,” he argued, tears that had been clinging to his lashes now slipping down his cheeks, silent streams of sadness and heartbreak. No. She couldn’t bear it. How was she supposed to be strong when he was falling apart? “It’s my life, Tori.”

“But it’s not just your life,” she reminded him. “What about Gareth and Jeff and Matt? You’re going to make this decision for them too? They want the band. That includes you. Without you, the deal is off. You can’t do that to them, Eddie. You’re not the only one this affects.”

A growl of frustration burst from within him as he broke away, turning his body so his back was to her. Eddie stomped a few steps away from her. His head dropped into his hands as he began pacing back and forth, back and forth, as if he could find some grand solution to this problem if he just kept moving. That was her boy, always moving, never stopping, never letting anything catch up to him. But she knew there was no solution to this, none that meant they stayed together. They had come to an impasse, the only option was the one neither of them wanted to face but had to.

“Eddie, this is everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“No, it’s not. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re the cake, Tori. This shit is just the icing on top. Us, you and me, that’s what matters. I can live without fame and money and some stupid record deal. I can’t live without you.”

“You can and you will,” she stated simply, closing her eyes against the pain, a thousand papercuts that would bleed her out slowly. But Eddie would move on. He would bury himself in his music career and he would meet someone else one day and she would become nothing but a distant memory. The girl from the small town he’d left behind. The very thought made her stomach twist painfully but this was all she’d ever wanted for him. For him to be happy, to finally show the world just how amazing he was, for him to get everything he deserved.

“I can’t do this, Funshine,” he admitted softly, words muffled against his hands. “How do you expect me to walk away from you?”

“You’re not walking away from me, Eddie,” she assured, closing the distance between them. Tori slid her hands around his waist, her cheek pressing against the back of his leather jacket, inhaling that scent was just his, that scent she would recognize anywhere, that scent that would haunt her for days until she couldn’t catch it anymore. “You’re not leaving me. We’re just stuck in an impossible situation and it sucks.”

“It does suck!” he roared, causing her to jump. With a deep sigh, he spun in her arms, pulling her into his chest, his chin resting on her head, cocooning her in the safety of his body. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I know you’re doing what you have to do. It’s just so unfair. I fucking hate this. I hate this so much.”

“I know…me too…” she agreed, burying her face against his jacket, opening her senses in an attempt to absorb him. She wanted everything about him to be imprinted on her, downloaded like a file into her body where she could never forget, never lose everything that was just quintessentially Eddie. 

He was going off to live his rockstar dream and it was everything she’d ever wanted for him. Tori had no doubt he would succeed. The talent this man had…there were no words for it. He was made to be on a stage, his presence larger than life. He exuded frontman energy in spades. And the other guys, their talent was wasted here in a small town like Hawkins that couldn’t appreciate them. They deserved stadium tours and standing ovations and hundreds of groups screaming their names. But she knew what that meant for her and her body recoiled at the very thought. 

Eddie was heartbroken right now but give it some time and he would move on. He would have girls throwing themselves at him every single night. Just look at him. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. He wouldn’t stay single for long. He would have more options than he knew what to do with. He would be okay. He would heal. He would forget all about the girl he left behind in Hawkins when he was surrounded by gorgeous supermodels and actresses while she…she would never forget, forever clinging to the reminders of what was. 

“I love you,” Tori whispered, clinging to him, wishing she could crawl inside of him and stay there, follow him wherever this future took him. “I love you and that’s why I am letting you go, baby.”

“I don’t want you to let me go,” Eddie insisted, fingers pressing into the skin of her back as if he could mark her, brand her, claim her. He didn’t have to do any of that. She was already his, forever. It didn’t matter how much distance was between them or how much time passed, she was his completely and always would be. “Look, we don’t have to break up. We can do the long distance thing until…I mean, why not? I can call you and I can visit when I can and you can maybe come visit me and when you’re ready, then you can come be with me.”

Tori had thought about that. Jesus, this was all she had thought about for the last three months since Eddie had burst in their front door, grinning, bouncing with his good news only to find her on the floor, sobbing. He got the greatest news of his life on the same day she had received the worst news of hers. It was ironic really and not in a haha, that’s so funny kind of way but in a life sucks and just wants to destroy you kind of way. Just when she needed him most, his dreams were coming true and his dream was snatching him away. 

“Eddie…” she groaned softly because every time she convinced herself that she was strong enough to let him go, he would say or do something that would make her weak again, make her want to forget everything she’d said. Long distance didn’t work. It would only hurt them both more in the end. “We’ve talked about this. We agreed that…”

“No! We didn’t agree on anything. You keep saying it will never work. You have all kinds of reasons why it won’t work but you’re ignoring the one reason it will.” His hands came to her face and she turned into his touch, rubbing her cheek over his palm, her body searching for him the way it always had. “We love each other. Tori, I don’t care if thousands of other people haven’t made long distance work. I don’t care if Robin and Vickie couldn’t make it work. That doesn’t mean we can’t. We can do anything, Funshine. Come on. You know we can. Does seven years really mean nothing to you?”

Tori reeled back as if he’d slapped her, stepping away from him, eyes wide, gutted by his accusation. A new emotion began to take over the sadness, anger rippling along her skin. How could he even think that? How dare he have the nerve to even say something like that to her. Hadn’t she made it abundantly clear how much he meant to her? How much she loved him? How could he possibly doubt it?

“How dare you!” she snapped. “You know how hard this is for me, Eddie. I fucking hate this! You think I want to be without you? Especially right now? I don’t. When I think about the future, you’re the only thing I see. You’re the only thing I want but I can’t have you. Our paths are going in different directions right now and there’s nothing we do about it. I can’t go and you can’t stay. Please don’t make this harder. Losing you on top of everything else is killing me, Eddie. I am trying to be strong here but I just…I feel like I am falling apart, like I am just going to crumble into nothing and I…I just…” 

Sobs tore from her body, her shoulders heaving as she gasped for air, hyperventilating. Everything was falling apart. Her entire world was breaking, shattering. She was losing every single thing that meant anything to her and she was trying so hard to be strong, to hold it together for everyone around her but she was crumbling under the weight of it. 

Then Eddie was there, his arms coming around her, keeping those broken pieces together, her own personal superglue, whispering in her hair, “Baby, I am so sorry. I know. I’m sorry.” His hand ran over her hair, cupping the back of her head, pulling her into the solace that was his embrace. “Shit. I’m so sorry. You’re dealing with so much right now. I don’t want to make it worse. I just…I can’t just get on that plane knowing I will never talk to you again. Can’t we at least try to make this work?”

“Eddie…you’re going to forget about me,” she whimpered, wiping her face against his shirt. “You’re going to be so busy. You’re going to have so much to do once you get there. You’re not going to have time to call me. And what happens when you meet someone else? I don’t want you to feel tied down to me. You don’t need that right now and what I have going on, it’s just too much.”

“Wrap rope around my hands and attach me to you because there is no one else. I want to be tied down. Tori, there’s never been anyone else. There will never be anyone else. You’re it for me, Funshine. I love you so much.”

“I just…”

“Please, baby, please,” he pleaded, his lips pressing against her face, kisses of desperation and hope, kisses she was helpless against. “Please just try for me. Let’s just try, okay? It’s not going to hurt to try, right? We can make this work. I know we can.”

She was so tired, too exhausted to fight him anymore. Even though her brain was telling her this would never work, even though she’d gone over it a million times, weighing the pros and cons and the cons always came out on top, Tori just couldn’t battle anymore. Her body sagged against him in surrender. 

“Okay…okay…we’ll try,” she whispered. 

“I love you, Funshine. I love you so much,” Eddie mumbled against her skin, clinging to her. “We are going to make it, baby. This is going to work. I know it is.”

She wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself but in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

******************************************************************

Here is the prologue for my new Eddie fic. It will be original character. I have a hard time writing reader and I have been editing my chapters for Tumblr but it takes so much time. I understand if some of you would rather not read it because of that. I will start posting this book on May 29th so let me know if you want added to the taglist and of course I always love to hear what you think. Thanks so much for your continued support.

#eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie the banished #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson rockstar #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #long lost love #second chance romance #second chance at love #grief #tw grief #tw death of a family member #tw addiction #tw adult themes #soulmates #meant to be #smut #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #smut and fluff #fluff and angst #fluff and smut

[moodymisty]

(This isn't a request, just some Konrad daydreams driven by 4am insomnia that had me screeching and I just have to share with someone while I wait for my meds to kick in!!)

Your recent post about the stinky rat man got me thinking of something truly, hilariously awful: Konrad's favorite meow meow is a PERPETUAL.

Maybe he watches her die. Maybe he accidentally kills her himself. Whatever happens, he'd probably be losing. his. fucking. mind.

..And then she comes back. Oh god, I'm loving imagining at how truly deranged he would be over that. I know he tortures Vulkan SUPER HARD after finding out he's a perpetual, but that seemed driven a lot by "You think you're good and noble(and sane)? I'll drag you down to my level."

I wonder if he'd mistake her as some kind of phantom/delusion brought on by grief and madness at first. Extra comedy: he accidentally(purposely?) kills her again while freaking out over her showing back up alive LMAO. Meow meow can't catch a fuckin' break with this man.

Now I'm wondering how a few other primarchs would react to something similar though

Sanguinius and his sons in mourning and his dead wife just shows back up like "Why did you bury me alive?!" completely unaware she DIED.

Perturabo's shitass sons being like "I told you it was a waste of time!" and then the horror of realizing they didn't escape their step-mom after all.

I'd assume all the primarchs would try to find out what the fuck happened, and maybe go to Malcador for information once they start drawing blanks? Idk.

Fulgrim would so cute, just hyped as fuck. "I have a wife? That won't get old and die before me?? I don't have to lose this one???" Bonus points if she's the last one he was going to marry because he got too heartbroken seeing his wives get old and die over and over 😫 the queen and her corgis vibe forreal

I can't really figure out Mortarion even though he's one of my faves. On one hand, WITCH!! On the other hand,he'd be so relieved the One Good Thing in his life isn't actually gone forevet..

Oh my g o d. Lorgar. Thefucking goddess shit would go CRAZY. Kor Phaeron slamming his head against a wall because he thought he finally WON. HOW DID SHE DO THAT? Some of his followers getting spooked about being rid of her because s u r e l y it was the Powers who orchestrated such a miracle... So maybe she is meant to be here? Uh oh.

Guilliman is another one I'm just like ????. All I can think of, is he'd quietly go find Emps/Malcador and be like "whattheFUCK? explain?please?how?"

It might be because I'm heavily sedated but it's all sO funny to think about. Some legions quietly rejoicing because The Distraction is gone and shejust. Comes back 😭

But can you imagine the parties thrown by the ones who really loved their legion mothers?! And you thought theFUNERAL was extravagant..

Im not sure what time it is there but I hope you slept well and have a good morning! Sorry forcthis stream of consciousness garbage by theway LOL but you always have such cool takes on things I couldnt help muself

This a joy to read friend, I have nothing to add.

Lorgar in particular with a perpetual beloved would be fucking INSANE. His whole religious trauma would be going wild as well as even some of the more apprehensive Word Bearers might be a bit more, respectful.

Imaging Vulkan's wife ends up coming back a few weeks after they desperately mourned her loss, and it's time for the galaxy's largest hug. They form a line.

#Misty's book club #jesus finding out you're a perpetural and in love with Konrad would be AWFUL you can't escape him lmao

[exaltedfuzz]

Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

#art #my art #ace attorney #ema skye #lana skye #writing #exaltedfuzz #skye sisters

[neverevan]

in theory I love the 'they both lost someone and found each other in grief' but I think that would diminish what they have. as if they're second best almost :/ that already annoys me a little with them bringing shannon back again and again (and again), with eddie thinking that's the only magic he ever had - when actually, they had quite a lot of problems

well I get that as a viewer you might feel like they are overdoing it, but the thing with grief is that it never goes away and sure, they had a lot of problems; getting pregnant at 18-19 is not a joyride.

raising a kid when you still don't even have an idea who you are is hard enough, but then add into the mix Eddie's military time and Shannon's dying mother and her having to deal with Eddie's parents and figuring out how to care for a kid with special needs on top of it all.

it was a complicated relationship, but after they reconnected, after Eddie allowed Shannon back into his life with Christopher (which again, Eddie was mostly absent for 6 years, Shannon was gone for like one by the looks of it and Eddie was the one "allowing" her back ugh lots to unpack there) he was happy with her.

up to the point where she wanted a divorce, so she could become the right person to raise Christopher before she tried to become the right person to be with Eddie.

it stung and it made him angry but then she died and the anger didn't go away, but it got caught up in the grief and excitement of love he was feeling just before and after.

the reason I'm going into this (though not in so much detail cuz then we'd be here until tomorrow) is to show just how complicated his feelings about Shannon are. now consider the fact that he has to see Christopher, a living, breathing reminder of Shannon every single day.

and he wants to do right by him and he thinks that'd equal doing right by himself too, because that's how it was with Shannon; they were high school sweethearts, they were married, they had a kid. it's the picture perfect family, especially when you look at it from a christian angle — which does seem to be something coming up for Eddie this season.

Buck on the other hand? he is everything Eddie wants and needs, but he's far from that picture. he's a guy for starters and at this point we don't even know if Eddie has ever entertained the possibility of something like that, then he is his coworker, which isn't exactly ideal, even though we as a fandom love to sidestep that part.

they have the bond, the affection and possibly the attraction, but for Eddie to see it that way, he needs to let go of the idea of the picture perfect family, that's step one.

and he can't do it until he lets go of the idea of Shannon too, which frankly (though I love what they did with that season) I think would've already happened in s5 had Tim not left. so now he's working backwards as he's trying to fix the mess they made of all the characters' storylines in his absence.

but yeah, Eddie will always grieve Shannon, so it doesn't matter how complicated their relationship was objectively, that'll be a part of his endgame relationship no matter who it will be with and regardless of them also grieving someone as well or not.

#eddie diaz #911 #911 abc #ask #anon #shannon diaz #buddie

[distant-screaming]

I love media that is about parents. the way it always leads back to the way characters have been raised, been loved, been taught to love. media about about fathers and expectations and understanding and cultural roots holding it all together, about rekindling relationships that never had a chance to exist and letting go of grief over relationships that don't exist anymore. media about mothers, and burdens, and shelter. media about generational cycles and legacies and futures that are dictated by the past, and media about nature vs nurture and the way they have lived. media about the wealth and family and what is important and when. media about family of blood and family of choice and family of convenience. I love media about history and inheritance and, most of all, parents.

#I just think. #there's something so delicious about it #this was inspired by thinking about palmnueng and tragedy to no one's surprise #never let me go #nlmg #mdzs #mlc #moonlight chicken #where your eyes linger #the eclipse #dangerous romance #omori #umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #umineko when they cry #what remains of edith finch #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #whew #distant screaming screams into the void