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compact-turtle · 1 year

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Yandere Soldier x GN Reader PT 1

Concept: Yandere Soldier X GN Reader PT 1

TW: , Kidnapping, gaslighting, possessive, manipulation, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of death, fear, war, danger, guns, usual yandere behavior, Sexual harassment (Not by yandere), murder, hostage situation

Summary: You save the life of a dying soldier. He becomes attached to you...

Wordcount: 1.7K

-Yandere Soldier, whose fellow comrades burst through a hospital door. They lay him on a bed and shout for help.

- Everything hurts. His lungs are on fire. A million needles are pricking him. Desperately, he tries to scream, but nothing comes out.

-Doctors and nurses immediately surround him. His crying comrades scream for them to save him. None of it mattered though. All of their voices start to become faint.

-His vision grows hazy. A dark void begins to swallow his consciousness. There’s only so long he can fight and endure. It feels like someone is holding his head underwater. Every time he tries to get air, it submerges him deeper.

-Is this the end?

-Fear slowly trickles into him. The unknown nature of death frightens him. He’s seen it time and time again. His vibrant comrades slipped into the cold hands of death. Only one thing kept him alive on the battlefield. A fantasy that he'd find someone to love.

-He'd return home and find someone who cherished him. They'd go on dates and dance around in the kitchen. After every fight, they would make up (in bed maybe). Life would have its ups and downs, but he'd cherish every memory with them.

-In these fleeting moments, he mourns his lost dream. It terrifies him more than death. The idea that he'd never experience love or any of its joys.

-Yet, he hears something. A soft voice calling out to him. It envelops his mind like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. It soothes him. Slowly, the voice pulls him from the ever-growing vacuum.

“You’ll be ok, sir. Just stay with me.”

—

-Yandere soldiers who stand outside your room flirting with you. You sat on your bed listening to him. A small smile snakes itself on his lips as he prepares his joke.

“Why did the chicken go to your house?”

“Hm. I’m not sure.”

“Because it was egg-cited to see you!”

“That was so cheesy, Ivar.”

-You let out a small snort. The joke was awful. Regardless, it didn't matter to Ivar. He’d tell you a million bad jokes as long as you kept grinning at him. A rush of euphoria filled him up every time.

-A few months ago, Ivar woke up from his coma. His brain was muddled. There were gaps in his memory. Even his body refused to cooperate. However, adrenaline kicked in as he heard the door creak open. Without a second thought, he lunged for the intruder.

-Yet, his body gave out. The long coma made its effects known. Ivar thrashed every which way. He tried to kick or punch. Anything.

-In the end, the staff had to sedate him. When he awoke for a second time, a doctor was there to calm him down. They stated he was in the hospital receiving care for an injury. Also, noting how he tried to attack a member of their staff.

-He apologized and asked for the doctor to summon the staff member. A heavenly angel was sent to his room. They were dressed in a clean pair of scrubs with a small heart pin on their pocket. Ivar was memorized. His heart began to palpitate and his eyes widened.

-It wasn’t until you opened your mouth that it all clicked for him. You were the one who saved him. The one who pulled up from the jaws of hell.

-The two of you began to bond. Ivar waited for you to arrive in his hospital room like a small puppy. He’d eagerly greet you then wait for you to tell him about your day.

-Throughout his encounters, he learned that you were a volunteer nurse at this hospital. You wanted to help people during the wartime and make an impact on others lives.

-Some of his comrades began to tease him about his obvious affection. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was you. Perhaps, Ivar was being to obvert or perhaps you chose to ignore it? Regardless, none of those thoughts managed to stop his ever-growing feelings.

-During this time, Ivar noticed someone during your shifts. Another man who became interested in you. Ivar observed how the man’s eyes would linger on your behind. The way that awful man undressed you in his mind.

-For the first few days, Ivar ignored it. He convinced himself eventually, the man would stop. After all, how could someone defile such a sweet angel like you?

-Unfortunately, the man began to escalate his harassment. They'd smack your ass when you bent over or try to squeeze your chest after a usual check-up. The hospital refused to remove him as your patient due to the lack of staff. All they did was reassure you that he’d be gone soon.

-This pushed Ivar over the edge. Couldn’t they see how you were suffering? You were always happy to help patients. You’d come into the hospital practically beaming. However, the man sucked your light.

-So he made a decision on your behalf. He kindly disposed of the man. It wasn’t too difficult. All he had to do was disrepute a few machines next to him. The man seemingly died of a “natural cause”.

- A sense of joy washed over him seeing the man suffer. How their eyes turned desperate, begging Ivar to do something. Inside, a small part wishes that he could’ve done more for the man. Death was something too kind for this man. Maybe drag his knife across their skin to see him truly suffer. Slowly and gradually to make the pain last. Still, someone might have noticed the cuts. Better to play safe.

-Anyways, he knew he made the right choice. You secretly confided in him that you were glad the man passed away. Every shift, you were afraid of another encounter with that man. Pride swelled in his heart as you told him your relief.

-There came a day when Ivar was finally discharged from the hospital. He was disappointed to say the least. Thankfully, he already came up with a plan to solve the problem. Ivar stood at the top of some stairs. He looked both ways about to jump. However, he was stopped by your voice calling out for him.

-You told him that you enjoyed the daily conversations. You also mentioned how you’d love to be his friend and spend time outside of work together.

-Naturally, Ivar jumped at the opportunity to be with you. He quickly exchanged phone numbers.

-The next few months consisted of him texting you everyday. He’d check up on you, text random pictures of his meals and so forth.

-The two of you also had regular hangouts. Sometimes Ivar would take you to see movies, or a walk around the city. Honestly, if you even mentioned something you wanted to do, Ivar had that activity planned out the next day.

-Ivar felt closer to you than anyone else. Just the thought of you was enough to send his heart racing.

-Looking up at the clock, Ivar noticed the time. He needed to get going if he was going to prepare everything on time.

“Sorry, angel. I’ve gotta run. The men need me for a project. I’ll see you later at seven, right?”

“Seven sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see what you have planned out for us.”

-Ivar smiled at you. He quickly gave a small goodbye hug. Trying to be discreet, Ivan smelled your neck. The strong scent of your body wash lingered in his nostrils. He desperately wished to cling to you. For you to never be apart from him.

-Pulling away with a small sense of disappointment, Ivar waved goodbye.

—------------

-A large bouquet of red roses rests in Ivar’s arms. This afternoon, he spent three hours finding the perfect florist. There was no room for imperfections. Every single detail had to be flawless.

-After six long months, Ivar had finally worked up the courage to ask you out. He envisioned how it’d play out. You’d accept the roses with a gleeful smile. Afterward, Ivar would take you out to the lake. The two of you would dance across the beach and then share a passionate kiss to end the night.

-“Wow, Ivar. Finally making your move after all this time?” Chadwick, one of his comrades, said teasing him.

“Of course, boys. Wish me luck.” Ivar replied, winking, “I’m about to land the angel of my dreams. Some of you, though, are gonna be stuck as single dogs forever. “

-The men burst into laughter. Ivar joined along. Each one patted his back and congratulated him. Some even began to ask about the wedding date. While being praised for his boldness, a loud blaring echoed through the room. Immediately, the mood became uneasy. Everyone turned their attention to the TV overhead.

“Breaking News! Nightshade Hospital has been overtaken by a rebel group. Multiple hostages are currently being held including medical staff and patients alike.” A news broadcaster said standing outside the hospital, “Shots have been confirmed to have been fired in the building. Please continue listening as we continue to bring more updates about this pressing matter.”

“Ivar, isn’t your angel at home today?”

“They shouldn't be at work. Mondays are their days...” Ivar trailed off

-He began to recall you complaining about taking a shift for a coworker. Ivar felt his stomach drop. He moves closer to the TV to get a better look. His eyes are desperately searching for any sign of you. Maybe you decided not to take that shift after all?

-That’s right. It’s possible you were still in your apartment. Safe and sound. You probably were eating snacks on the couch. Or reading that novel you never finished. After all, you weren’t even supposed to be at work today.

-Buzz

-Quickly, he pulls out his phone. A text notification appears on the screen. Dread ate away all his hopes.

-Ivar, I’m hiding in a room on the third floor. I think they just shot Dr. Roberts.

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runa-falls · 11 months

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scratches and bites - 1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Almost kidnapping, age-gap but completely legal, grumpy/asshole Miguel, injury, them claws and fangs, sexual tension, cockblock lol

a/n: yes, i’m back at it with some writing. sorry for being mia lol. this became a lot more dark-ish than I initially anticipated–my bad. I was also gonna do a smutty one-shot, but i needed some background so ._. my bad again. now imma hunker down on pt 2. hope you enjoy ?

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. So this is how you met (which may explain some things...)

w/c: 1.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

Miguel O’Hara is a grumpy man.

It’s almost like there are tiny weights holding down his brows to maintain his glare or ribbons pulling at the corner of his lips so he’s always frowning. Needless to say, being subject to an O’Hara scowl is not uncommon. Everyone in the spider-verse has had their turn. But you have seen it more than anyone. In fact, you might be the number one reason why he’s rarely seen in a relaxed state.

You’re not even sure why you were recruited in the first place. When Miguel showed up, it was only a few days after you were bitten. You had literally just woken up from your Spider-coma to find what every spider-person experienced: sticky hands, superhuman strength, and a sixth sense.

Endless thoughts ruffled your mind, overwhelming your already overly-sensitive body. Just as you were starting to fully freak out, a bright and distorted series of lights and noises invited a very tall man, dressed head-to-toe in a red and blue suit, to casually walk into your childhood bedroom.

You sat there shaking in disbelief as you watched the broad-shouldered man slowly reveal his face, easily taking off that terrifying mask before regarding your small figure on your bed. He almost looked inconvenienced or bored as he met your eyes.

This has to be a dream.

“Alright, come on.” Those were the first words he said to you. He gestures to the portal impatiently, waiting for you to come to your senses and follow his orders. When nothing happens he raises his brow. “Don’t have all day.” His tone is clipped like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What? ” It comes out hoarse and small, "No." If it weren’t for his sensitive hearing he probably wouldn’t have picked up on it over the noises the portal was making. Your fingers clench harshly against your blanket.

That marks the first time you saw his infamous scowl. He adjusts his stance, resting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “No?" He chuckles humorlessly, "Well, you don’t really have a–”

“Who the hell are you?”

He shakes his head dismissively, “It doesn’t really mat–”

“Did you do this to me?” You lift a hand that has remnants of a Spanish flash card that you accidentally picked up when you leaned against your desk. You tried to peel it off but ended up ripping it into smaller pieces that were still stuck to your palm. His stare is patronizing as it lands on your flash card confettied hand.

“Is this new to you or somethi–”

“So you know about it?” You accuse, "You did--"

“Stop fucking interrupting me.” You flinch as he basically growls the words in irritation. As he steps closer to you, light pours over his figure, highlighting the intricate pattern of his suit that clings closely to his muscles. You cower slightly, noticing the menacing scars over his cheeks and the heat in his nearly red eyes.

His voice is low and dangerous as he addresses you, “You’re spider-girl, or spider-woman if you prefer, though by the looks of it,” His eyes glaze over your face and body, “you’re still just a kid.” He continues to inch closer as he speaks, unconcerned by the way the portal closes suddenly behind him or the way you start to shuffle away from him. “A radioactive spider bit you and gave you powers, lord knows why, and now you are to use them for good. End of story. Now,” His hand darts out before you could react and grabs a hold of your arm, “you’re coming with me so we can save everything and fix all this shit that is fucking up the multiverse.”

You attempt to yank your arm from his hold, but it only makes him grip you harsher. “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know why this is happening! I j-just woke up, I swear!” He doesn’t spare you a look as he mutters lowly into his watch.

Another portal opens, exactly like the first one he came through, but placed a bit farther away.

Now you’re panicking.

“Didn’t you hear a thing I said?” He pulls you from your bed, almost dragging you off the mattress. You try to claw at his hands, but his grip remains unaffected. If anything he’s just growing more frustrated.

“Ok, ok, ok. I’m spider-woman.” You continue to pull away from him, dragging your legs as a way to slow him down. “Please, I promise to use my powers for good! I will be a nice neighborhood spider-thing–Just please let me go! I didn’t do anything–”

“This isn’t a discussion.” He pulls you up and closer to him until he’s basically carrying you to the portal, one arm supporting your spine and another under your legs. You squirm relentlessly in his arms, trying to make it hard for him to get a good grip on you. “Stop…Fucking…Moving–” Sharp, fire-hot pain zips up your body as claws sink deeply into your skin. The side of your thigh and abdomen throb with unbearable heat as you’re shoved closer to his chest.

“Ahhh–fuck!” Your eyes sting with tears as your body catches up to the burning sensation of his claws retracting back into his body.

“Shit…” You look up as you hear his softened voice and see that he’s staring right back at you. The portal in front of the two of you continues to hum, but it quiets as your eyes met his. “Kid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—You just, you gotta come with me. The fate of everyone and everything rests on our shoulders.” The pain on your side dulls as you silently listen to the growing desperation in his voice. Somehow you’re able to divert those sensations, you might even be healing already. “I know you’re new to all this superhero stuff, but trust me when I say that I need your help. We all do.”

You’re almost afraid to ask, “...We?”

“There are countless spiders across the multiverse, all with interconnected lives.” You feel the large warmth of his hand gently stroke against your aching thigh like he’s trying to soothe the pain with light touches. “I’ve recruited a couple thousand, but we still need more. There's darkness rapidly spreading around the multiverse, displacing heroes and villains from their original dimensions and destroying whole universes.” The colors of the portal reflect off his red eyes as he stares right through it, mind somewhere else.

You let it sink in. The whole multiverse. Everything and everyone. And you.

Your arms slowly link around his neck so as not to startle him, and you pull yourself closer to him. You secretly enjoy feeling his firm chest against you, suddenly realizing how much larger he is compared to you, but when you twist the wrong way you are suddenly reminded of the small gashes on your side. Your quiet hiss shakes him out of his thoughts. Your lashes, sticky from the few tears you’ve shed, frame your eyes prettily as you stare up at him.

“Ok.” It comes out quieter than you wanted but he immediately reacted to it.

His brows raise in surprise, “Ok?” You nod. “Ok. O–Alright, that's um, great. I mean, thank you.” You nuzzle your head into the warmth of his chest when you see a corner of his mouth perk into a small smile. Why is he making you feel this way? How can your body react like this to someone about to literally kidnap them? “D-do you want something for these, uh, marks…” His voice is hushed and almost sounds sheepish as his fingers carefully smooth over the marks he left on your skin. A soft groan leaves your lips as he applies too much pressure against one of the puncture wounds.

“Yes please.” His fingers stop their movements and you can barely feel the way his body stiffens at your words.

“Alright, honey.” The hand under your back drags upwards, tracing your spine until it rests against the back of your neck. Goosebumps litter down your body as the warmth of his palm meets your bare and ultra-sensitized skin. He lifts you closely until you can feel his breath against the skin of your throat. Your eyes flutter closed. “Brace yourself.” The rough timber of his voice is enough to make you unconsciously clench your thighs. Time slows as you feel the sharp edge of – are those fangs?

You’re so focused on the gentle brush of his incisors that you barely notice the borderline possessive way he’s holding you. Like a wolf preparing himself for the meal of a lifetime. Just as he’s about to sink in and finally give you the relief that you’re practically begging for, an engine roars to life.

An engine. In your bedroom.

Well, there’ve been weirder things.

Both of you separate slightly at the noise and watch as a motorcycle slowly rolls into the room. There sits a heavily pregnant spider-woman with a very unimpressed look on her face, eyes bouncing from you to the nameless man cradling your body.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse

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supreme-burrito · 5 months

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But here is what I think is/will happen

At this point Lucifer totally knows that his powers of Pride are sinking in. He won’t say a goddamned word to anyone because he wouldn’t. So far he has had a good grip on them.

I’m going to be honest, probably since way back when Mammon slipped he instantly put two and two together that this was going to be a domino effect. It’s why he has been so quiet in the background this whole time, only to as a support/last resort when needed because he cares about his family and wants to help when and where he can. His quietness has been an answer of suppressing his pride.

This Lucifer that is swollen with pride is not the same Lucifer as in Season 1 who nearly killed Solomon and MC to protect his family.

This is a man who will keep his family together no matter the costs, even if it costs him his sanity.

But after the attic, something ticked in him. His Pride grew and it’s showing everywhere. He doesn’t want the truth to show. He does not want to directly admit that he loves MC. Now, he’s firmly stating his business and he will not take ‘no’ for an answer. He yanks Solomon’s crown of of him and declares he is the King of Gaslighting.

WAIT. SO I WAS RIGHT. GETTING INSIDE’S PEOPLE’S HEADS AND CONVINCING THEM TO HEED TO HIS WORDS IS SOMETHING HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABLE TO DO!

Levi’s first breakdown? Lucifer saved him by getting into the isekai.

Asmo’s bloodlust? As much as it pained him, he knew that the only way for Asmo to stop was for him to be put into a coma. Remember Asmo was the only one who completely subdued Lucifer into submission.

Belphie’s tantrum?

This is no projection of a past Lucifer. This IS Lucifer. He is playing his part in the dream knowing that MC is the only one who can fix this.

Which means you yeah, he’s been aware of all this tomfuckery going on THE WHOLE TIME.

But his tipping point is probably going to be Mephistopheles. In all the chaos of the train heist, Mephistopheles will come in and save MC, and out of confusion because Lucifer and Mephistopheles look SO SIMILAR, will get gratification either by a hug or even a kiss, and this sends Lucifer over the goddamned edge.

Or logistically what will happen is that Lucifer sent the train into his subconscious and not even Barbatos can save this fallen angel. Just one Burrito.

Because in 35-2, Belphie asks about what Lucifer cares about most. The answer that gets you the affection points for Lucifer is ‘family’.

Like Belphie, Lucifer is currently too afraid to admit the sheer amount of pain he would have to have this human go. Because he sees them as family, specifically his little sister.

Like he wants Burrito to stay so bad as occasionally sees him as an equal to offer them a position to teach human world history at RAD.

He made all his brothers jealous.

I know said in my Season 1 Lucifer analysis that Emotional Damage can be smothered by Pride to make you look like an asshole.

So how many dodgeballs am I going to get if I say that the other six in the B plot get into Lucifer’s room only to stumble into Lilith’s.

And that we actually get to meet Lilith and find how she is connected to Lucifer (and moreso likely Adam, Y’ALL REMEMBER ADAM RIGHT?!)

Or for my final prediction- we get to witness the Fall.

#obey me nightbringer spoilers #spoilers #obey me lucifer #obey me nightbringer

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sanjisprincesswifey · 2 years

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without you ⋆ luffy x reader

summary: you and your soulmate communicate via your dreams

♡: female reader. 2,200+ words. content warnings: angst, mentions of injuries. sfw content.

“this can’t be happening! chopper, why didn’t you get to her sooner?” luffy screams, banging his head against the mast of the sunny, his tears splashing to the floor beneath him.

“luffy, calm down. there was nothing more he could do, this isn’t chopper’s fault,” zoro says sternly. his hand grips the captain's shoulder causing him to halt his violent self-aggression. his breath, still gasping and ragged gets caught in his throat as he hugs his own body tightly.

the rest of the crew stares blankly at each other; even chopper knew that luffy’s words were hollow and a reflection of his pain, not his true feelings. regardless, no one spoke another word as luffy slumped down onto the deck, his throat scratchy from his screams.

“luffy,” nami speaks, painfully breaking the silence, “she’s in a coma. we don’t know when she’ll wake up or…” she stutters, the lump in her throat silencing her words.

“or if she ever will,” robin solemnly continues, holding nami close to her for comfort.

luffy’s cries cease all at once, his bandaged hands no longer muffle his words as he stares up at robin in disbelief. everyone’s faces reflect the same emotion, the one luffy knew all too intensely: heartbreak.

“w—what? i, i—i don’t understand. how, how—when i got to her she was awake. she was talking, she, she said she’d be okay. right, sanji? didn’t she say that?” he pleads, tugging on sanji’s coat as if he were a begging child.

the end of his cigarette has long since been burned out and sanji holds onto luffy’s hand unable to catch his eye. “she was thrown from a cliff luffy, her head hit the ground too hard, and she must’ve had a concussion,” he reasons as luffy yanks his hand away.

“it’s true. i patched her up as much as i could, but her bleeding was too great. only time will tell if she’ll wake up now. i have to keep her hooked up so i can give her fluids and keep her hydrated, but that’s all i can do now,” chopper explains, unable to keep his own voice from cracking.

luffy knew it was true, as much as he didn’t want it to be, everything they all said was true. his hands tug at his hair, pulling strands roughly.

the vivid image of you in that pirate’s grasp replayed in his mind, one second you were on the ground and the next you were in the air, soon to collide with the ground. it was a sick move, backing you into a corner over the edge of a cliff, the salty ocean just below. the height was tremendous, and a long fall was sure to await you.

but to luffy, it all happened in slow motion. the sound of you screaming his name still echoed through his head; the others calling out to you, running as fast as they could to jump in the water after you, it all seemed so futile now.

the air still smelled of rain, and the foggy memory of the two of you stomping in rain puddles like children ran through his mind. that was right before the two of you were ambushed, you were so happy.

“i’m going to stay with her until she wakes up, she needs to know that i, i love her,” he whimpers, pushing past the crew and into the infirmary where you lay quietly in the bed.

chopper reaches out to stop him, but both usopp and sanji hold him back, shaking their heads no.

“there’s no use trying to reason with him right now,” usopp says, watching luffy drop to his knees beside you.

“yeah, he hadn’t even said those words to her yet.” sanji explains, pushing himself off the railing and into the galley to prepare dinner.

.。･:*:･

completely disregarding the bed on the other side of the room, luffy sits restlessly in the chair next to your bed, but it’s not the discomfort of the chair that keeps his mind in a state of unease.

he stares at your face, your expression, albeit peaceful, looked nothing like you. the smile that had the apples of your cheeks bright and blushed was absent from your face and if luffy hadn’t engraved the memory of it into his brain, there’s a chance it may have never had been there.

“y/n, if you’re there, please say something. i can’t—” he shakily exhales, his fingers digging tightly into the blankets that you weren’t really using. “i can’t become the king of the pirates without you,” he breathes, pleading whimpers escaping his lips.

many long hours later, his pained cries lull him to sleep, and his light snores and the sound of your heart monitor are the only sounds that fill the room.

soon, a bright light evades luffy’s eyes, his fists rubbing them awake after a few burning blinks. the sunlight becomes the least of his concerns as a familiar, heavenly scent fills his senses. his head shoots up, scanning around the room realizing it’s the boy’s cabin he’s in and not the infirmary. unusually, he’s the only one there.

“huh? where is everyone?” he questions, stretching out his rubber body as his feet hit the wooden floor and he follows his nose to the galley where the savory scent is coming from.

“sanji, what’s the smell? it’s really good, it reminds me of—” as he pushes the door open, it’s not sanji nor anyone else that sits at the table, but you.

you were wearing one of luffy’s shirt that fits you so loosely, your hair was in slight disarray as if you had just woken up not long ago, and what was most strange was that there wasn’t a single scratch, bruise, or bandage on your body.

luffy can’t believe his eyes as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth, happily chewing the treat that you had made. “oh, luffy! you’re awake! i was waiting for you,” you smile, patting the seat next to you.

he cautiously scans the room, knowing that this had to be too good to be true. “y/n? how’re you here? i—i thought,” he starts, his body trembling at the thought of reality, unsure if he should believe what he’s seeing.

“you’re asleep luff and so am i, in a way,” you try to explain, offering him a bite of the cupcake you made.

he giggles as he almost swallows the fork whole, stopping you from explaining any further. his rubber arms wrap around you tightly as if it was his intention to never let you go. your free hand reaches to hold his, interlacing your fingers together.

“i’m just happy you’re here with me y/n and i’d stay asleep forever if it means i get to be with you,” he smiles, kissing your cheek repeatedly as your laughter grows louder and louder.

suddenly, the sound of a creaking door echoes in the distance as luffy jolts awake. he familiarizes himself with his surroundings as he sees you back in the bed, almost lifeless as you were before.

“sorry luffy, didn’t mean to scare you. i just came to check y/n’s vitals,” chopper apologizes, scribbling down your heart rate before taking out a stethoscope. he presses the metal object to your chest, listening intently, “hmm, her heart rate seems to have elevated slightly. it must be something she’s dreaming about; i wonder what it is,” chopper smiles.

luffy notices your fingers gripping him, his mouth falling slightly agape.

“something wrong?” chopper asks, noticing luffy’s curiosity.

the captain shakes his head, giggling to himself, “nothing at all.”

robin, who had come to check on your well-being, notices the calmness in luffy’s voice and taps her finger to her chin as if she just had an idea.

.。･:*:･

“it’s been weeks and he hasn’t moved from her side. he barely eats and that’s saying something, this is luffy we’re talking about. it’s like he isn’t himself without her by his side,” sanji mumbles, slicing away at vegetables; “i bring him food to eat but he barely even touches it, i don’t know what else we’re supposed to do. i don’t understand how he’s not hungry.”

“this is bad. we can’t continue our adventure without a captain,” brook adds, sipping on his tea while the others begin to agree, panic beginning to stir within the group.

robin saunters in, the panic still consuming the rest as she sits in her seat with a soft content smile on her face.

“and what’re you smiling about? don’t you understand the danger of this situation? luffy might never want to sail again!” usopp screams causing robin to stare at him as if he lost his mind.

“i’m smiling because there isn’t anything to worry about, both y/n and luffy will be fine,” she begins, opening the book in her hand and flipping through the pages until she finds the one she was looking for. “tell me, have any of you ever heard the story of soulmates?” she asks, skimming the page with her index finger.

“oh yeah, i heard of them before. bellemere used to tell nojiko and i this story all the time growing up,” nami exclaims.

“huh? soulmates? i’ve never heard that story before,” chopper sadly pouts.

“yohoho, i haven’t heard that story in quite some time so forgive me if some details are off or out of place. the version that i’ve been told is that you and your soulmate are able to communicate via your dreams, that is once you’ve both fallen in love with each other.” brook recalls, remembering the tale from way back when.

“now that i think about it, i remember reading a book with the same premise when i was a kid too! but wait, what does that have to do with luffy and y/n?” sanji asks as everyone turns their attention back to her.

“did you guys hear the captain a couple of weeks ago. he said that he loves her and i have a sneaking suspicion that y/n loves him too. if that’s the case then perhaps luffy is holding onto hope because they’ve been communicating with each other when he’s asleep.” robin explains, reading through the passage from the same book sanji was referring to.

“i’d like to believe this as much as the next guy, but if this is real, how do we know that y/n will even wake up?” usopp questions with his arms crossed over his chest as he lets his skepticism get the best of him.

“we don’t know. that’s something only time can tell,” robin admits, knowing no further answers.

“oh robin, your beautiful intellect has saved the day once again,” sanji coos, his eyes forming hearts before zoro has the chance to annoy him with an insult.

.。･:*:･

luffy’s head lays in your lap; he was unaware of how much he enjoyed listening to you read to him until it was gone.

books that he could’ve mistaken for coasters or paperweights now served a purpose; even when he was awake, he would remember your voice so crisp and clearly recounting the stories you’d read to him when he’d fallen asleep.

you notice luffy’s big brown eyes piercing into you, so you set your book down and gently brush his cheek with a soft smile. “you’re not even listening luffy,” you giggle.

he shows you his beautiful smile, a thin red blush flushing his cheeks as he nods. “i know, you’re so pretty it’s distracting me,” he compliments, reaching up to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “when are you going to wake up y/n? i really miss you,” he asks, his whole face falling knowing this paradise will come to an end soon.

your lip quivers when he removes himself from your lap, but instead of sitting next to you, he falls to the floor. his knees thud to the ground, his head falling against your knees while his hands clasp against your legs. you could hear his muffled sniffles against your skin, the plea in his cries rendering you helpless as tears well up in your eyes too.

“i want to luffy, i just, i don’t know how,” you whisper running a hand through his tangled hair as his sobs continue.

“please y/n. please come back to me, i need you. i, i—” luffy gasps between sobs, looking up to meet your eye, “i love you.”

your eyes widen, staring at him in disbelief, “you…what?”

you can feel your heartbeat increasing, thumping heavily within your chest. your vision begins to go hazy, clouding your thoughts before your vision blurs completely. your head pounds before everything stops at once.

you blink a few times; a ringing ensues in your ears before you can make yourself familiar with your surroundings. your body feels heavy and warm, your limbs tingling like pins and needles. tilting your head to the side, you see your boyfriend whose eyes are bulging out of his head.

“l—luffy?” you cough, your throat hoarse from neglect over the past couple of weeks.

tears continue to stream down his cheeks, and he bites his lip to keep from being too loud as he nods his head. “i’m right here y/n, don’t worry. i’ll get chopper, okay?” he reassures, but before he can move you hold onto his hand. “hmm? what is it y/n? are you hurt? are you—”

“i love you too, luffy.” you mumble, an onslaught of tears continuing to fall as he leans down to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

“i love you more.”

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#monkey d luffy #luffy imagine #luffy x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

628 notes · View notes

innerslumber · 11 months

Text

The man in the bed was silent. Starting to feel a bit apprehensive, Bucky got closer to the still form. When he got near enough for a better look, Bucky couldn’t help but stare.

Not even the clinical setting and unflattering hospital gown could take away the beauty of the man who lay sleeping. His shock of dark golden hair was spread like a halo around his head along with a full beard. A tall body, clearly having known a life of exertion, took up the length of the mattress. A strong nose with sculpted lips made a statement on that beautiful face. Bucky couldn’t tell the man’s eye color since they were closed but the lashes were long and full.

Bucky’s eyes turned to the side where the patient’s information was posted. The clipboard listed his name and other various information, including rank. But the most interesting information was the diagnosis.

Persistent vegetative state?

“Excuse me but what are you doing here?”

Bucky whirled around in surprise as his heart beat frantically in his chest. He faced a nurse who was scrutinizing him intensely and he wet his lips nervously before finding his voice.

“Hi. My name is Bucky and I’m the new veterans outreach counselor. I was supposed to be speaking to someone but-” Bucky looked down at the sleeping man, “maybe I have the wrong room?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, hold on a sec,” Bucky asked, as he opened up his phone. “I was supposed to see Jake Lattimore?”

The nurse pointed toward the hall over her shoulders. “Lattimore is in room #516.”

“Oh, I must have written the wrong number down. Sorry about that.”

The nurse’s demeanor relaxed a bit when she realized that Bucky wasn’t an intruder and was just lost. “No problem. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I’m all right. Thank you.” Bucky smiled and started to walk away but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned back to the nurse and tipped his head toward the sleeping patient. “Actually um…could I ask about how this gentleman got here? I saw that his chart said ‘persistent vegetative state’? What does that mean?”

“Basically, it means a coma.” The nurse inspected the various machines that surrounded the bed and whatever numbers she was looking for, it must have looked normal. “Captain Rogers has been sleeping for a year.”

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

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

@stuckybingo Moodboard and Blurb. Square N4 : “Coma” By Navya @mind-empty-heart-full

#stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve x bucky #stucky bingo #coma #moodboard #blurb #would anyone be interested in reading more?

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spicysix · 9 months

Text

anywhere u go

Argyle had no idea the living nightmare he was getting himself into when he first decided to follow Jonathan Byers. Well, he'd do it again in a heartbeat anyway.

rating: T

warnings: this fic includes weed, the teeniest hint of ptsd, questionable informations about the united states' AND the canadian's geography from a brazilian writer (so, probably, mistakes. look past them pls), also questionable english by a brazilian writer not beta-read, weather as a metaphor, and subtle pining.

word count: 5.6k

author's note: title from the song of the same name by Tove Lo. written for Lex's Spicy Six Summer Fanwork Challenge, for the dialogue prompt “I’m really glad we did this”. thanks for hosting this amazing event @thefreakandthehair ♡

↳ read on ao3

If someone asked him, Argyle wasn’t sure he’d be able to retell the whole thing.

And, sure, maybe you could blame the weed a little bit. He might have partaken in it a few times here or there during the whole thing. It was right there in the van! How could he say no? Not at any of the big moments, though, of course not. He’s a stoner, not an idiot. He only smoked twice on the road when Jonathan was the one driving, that hotbox he did with Eden, beautiful goth goddess of his dreams, and once to prepare the pizza during the whole freezer piggyback thing (he likes being high when working in the kitchen okay, don’t go away judging). When they got to Hawkins, he only collected mushrooms, didn’t do them. He didn’t even have the time.

It wasn’t any kind of substance that made the next few weeks go by hazily.

It was just too much.

Chaos was installed when they arrived in Hawkins. Earthquakes had ripped open wounds into the soil of the small town — living, squeamish, bleeding wounds. Argyle learned later they were portals to the dimension under their own, where all the problems surrounding his friend’s family came from in the first place.

People were missing and hurt, some even died with the way the gates tore through houses and buildings, and the mood around Hawkins as they drove through it was rightfully sour.

Jonathan drove to his girlfriend’s house, some other people were already there and it was a beautiful reunion, it really was, but Argyle felt out of place. They parted ways after, and the ones that had been there already headed to the High School to drop some donations — except for Nancy, who went inside the van and into the passenger seat as if she owned it.

It had been Argyle’s.

But it was okay, he stayed in the back with the kiddos.

They went to the hospital, one of them — the one Supergirl had mentally piggybacked on — was hurt and in a coma. Argyle waited in the van as the rest of them went in to see her — he didn’t know her, didn’t want to invade their space.

After the visit they headed to an old cabin in the woods, abandoned, destroyed, pieces of its ceiling missing. Jonathan said Supergirl used to live there with her dad, the dead cop, and while they all reconnected and cleaned up the place, Argyle found those mushrooms that he didn’t use.

Didn’t even have the time to, because suddenly it was snowing ashes and he found his friend and his friend’s family — including his mom and a tall skinny bald guy, where did they come from? — looking over the city from the hill and the open field, and the flowers were dead and there was smoke coming from the place where all the portals met downtown.

Too much happening at the same time, and suddenly Jonathan was grabbing Argyle’s wrist and pulling him back to the van, “let’s go get the others, oh and by the way the tall skinny bald guy is the dead cop, oh and by the way my mom went to the Soviet Union to rescue him, oh and by the way the world is ending.”

So they went back to the hospital, to warn the siblings that were keeping watch over the comatose redhead, but they didn’t wanna join them back. Told Jonathan to reach through the walkies if he needed them.

So they went to the school, found the pretty guy and the cute girl that looked and acted like siblings plus the small curly one, pretty guy told them all they could go to his house cause it was big and clean and empty and they could use it as headquarters. Nancy shivered at the suggestion, her jaw tensed and Jonathan looked at her with caution, but they all agreed anyway.

So they went to pretty guy’s house, it really was big and clean and empty — all sadly so. The ones coming from California took their much needed showers, un-dead cop called a friend of his and told him to come meet them, the kids reached out to the siblings in the hospital to let them know where they all were.

It was too much.

Argyle set the water of his shower to the coldest temperature he could bare to try and shock some sense into himself. Looked at his reflection in the mirror and if it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t know all the shit that guy went through that last week. Government agents dying in his work van that he ended up stealing, a superpowered girl he helped rescue, an evil dimension with an evil wizard, people in comas and people coming back from the dead, gates to the underworld burning through a small town — and how he got roped into all of that by following a friend across the country.

He’d say he was a pretty good friend at that point.

He waited in the living room with the others as everyone went through rotations of showers, and cute girl made him a sandwich and it was nice of her, Little Byers sat by his side cause he was one of the only people who knew Argyle, and it was nice of him. When Jonathan arrived all cleaned up and smelling soapy, he sat by Argyle’s other side and Argyle felt himself relax if only a little.

They waited until un-dead cop’s friend showed up, and for some reason he showed up with two other Russian guys and a government lady and oh boy was Argyle even more confused.

Everyone took their turns retelling their own stories and gluing all the pieces together, and it was a somber story, it was bad as a horror movie and Argyle kind of wanted to throw himself out the window and get in the first bus back to California but he had no one there and in here he at least had the Byers. They were a good family, the closest to one Argyle had. So he stuck around through the puzzle.

Once in a while they referenced something that had happened in the years before and Argyle didn’t get the references because he hadn’t been there but he was sure Jonathan could fill him in later. Or he wouldn’t, and Argyle wouldn’t mind that either because it would at least save him from nightmares.

There had been losses, some friend of theirs in Hawkins — small curly one seemed to be the most affected by it, and Supergirl’s boyfriend was also really upset when he learned the news. Besides him, other three teenagers were victims of the evil wizard, plus their friend who survived but was in a coma.

On their side, a doctor dead and a doctor missing — apparently captured by the side of the government that was trying to kill Supergirl, that government lady said. Not her side trying to kill Supergirl. Another side. But apparently the doctors could help and it was relevant to know about their situation. The parents didn’t seem to agree a lot, and neither did Supergirl.

Un-dead cop’s friend made a joke about how at least on their side only bad commies had died, but the joke didn’t land. They weren’t in a nice mood for jokes.

It was too much, everyone talking about terrible things happening and talking over each other and Argyle’s head was about to explode in pain so at some point when they were all going through the timeline for the third time, he escaped and headed outside through the front door.

Jonathan found him after a couple of minutes.

“Is this too much?” he asked, and Argyle nodded. “I’m sorry. Wish we could smoke right now,” he said.

Argyle hummed, “It’s gonna look real unprofessional of us if we do, though, right?”

“It really will.” Jonathan chuckled, but it was dry and humorless.

They just stood there in silence for a few minutes, and Argyle’s fingers were trembling a little and maybe it was abstinence, probably was, but the clouds were fucking red and the smoke still made ashes rain down and it was terrifying.

“We should go inside,” Jonathan said after a while.

Argyle sighed and followed him in.

Over the next week they all hung out almost exclusively in pretty boy’s house (pretty boy’s name was Steve, Argyle learned. He dated Nancy before Jonathan did. They had a weird thing going on) and planned for the next step they’d take into, hopefully for the last time, saving the world. Well, it was Argyle’s first, but it still counted right. The kids called their parents and they all seemed to trust the old teens to be good babysitters even during the apocalypse, plus Ms. Byers and the un-dead cop were of course to be trusted.

Argyle was mostly tuned out of everything, but that was okay, firstly because he was the last one to join the mess and didn’t know the details as well as the rest of them, and it wasn’t a good use of their time to explain it to Argyle time and time again when they could be plotting strategies. So Argyle took over pretty boy Steve’s kitchen and kept his battalion fed and strong for battle.

The other reason he kept tuned out was, of course, so he wouldn’t freak the fuck out.

Keeping himself entertained with cooking — and, not going to lie, a little weed here and there when they found it — was the only thing still keeping him from that original plan of throwing himself out the window and catching the first bus back to California.

Sometimes the rest of the Party — as they called themselves, what a weird bunch — would help or at least keep him company. Un-dead cop’s friend (un-dead cop was Hopper, friend was Murray) was a great cook as Argyle already knew from that risotto, but he was also really weird and gave Argyle the creeps. Ms. Byers kept telling him to call her Joyce, tried her best in the kitchen and her food wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t good. He liked talking to her, though. Cute girl — pretty boy Steve’s platonic soulmate, Robin — was real funny and a delight to talk to, but a fire hazard personified and not allowed near the stove. Steve could bake some mean breakfast and he was also really cool, Argyle didn’t know why Jonathan was so adamant about keeping a grudge.

“You’d like Eddie, he was a dealer,” Steve said one night as they sat in the backyard staring at the pool and smoking what was left of Argyle’s purple palm tree delight. “And he for sure would like you, and this.” Steve waved the joint around before handing it back to Argyle. Steve’s smile was sad, and Argyle hadn’t known the guy so he didn’t know how to feel or what to say. So they just kept smoking.

Nancy was how Argyle found out about the whole story between her, Jonathan and Steve — and Argyle understood partly why Jonathan held a grudge. Steve was a nice guy now though, Nancy said and Argyle knew it was true because they talked and smoked a lot late at nights, but it wasn’t his place to tell Jonathan how to feel about his girlfriend’s ex who called him slurs, physically fought him and then saved his life more than once. It was a tough spot, alright.

The kids were something else. He barely saw the siblings — Lucas Erica, the ones at comatose redhead’s, Max, bedside. They were, all three of them, constantly brought up, though, and it almost made it seem like they were there all the time. The small curly one, Dustin, seemed to think he was touched by god’s wisdom at all times, and it could be funny but it could also be a little annoying. He was pretty Steve’s favorite, though. That was interesting. Little Byers (Will) and Mike — Supergirl’s now ex-boyfriend — had something going on but Argyle wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what. Jonathan went grumpy anytime they were together, and his older brother protective act was amusing.

Supergirl — Jane, El — was Argyle’s favorite though, and there was no competition there. She was weird and tiny and badass and adorable and a huge menace, not only in the way that she could literally blow things up with her mind, but because she could be a little troublemaker kid in the best way a kid should be a troublemaker in. She was sweet and delicate and just so fucking little, and her shoulders were too tiny to hold all the weight they carried, so Argyle did his best to bake her the frozen waffles she loved, told her funny exaggerated stories so she’d laugh, gave her tight hugs whenever she needed them. It was sad that she needed them a lot. But she always thanked him and told him his hugs were the best hugs ever, so he’d hug her once again before letting her go. He liked that she smiled a lot near him. The world owed her more smiles, and he was glad to take that task.

Jonathan did his best to make Argyle feel like he was part of it all. Argyle wasn’t so sure if he even wanted to be a part of it all in the first place, but since he was dragged to it without any other option, he was glad he at least had Jonathan by his side. He chose to pair up with Argyle when they were assigned guest bedrooms in Steve’s big house so Argyle wouldn’t be alone, even if he could be with Nancy. He never scolded Argyle for smoking because he knew Argyle did it to cope, to calm down, to get less stressed and anxious — and he knew the situation was stressing and anxiety-inducing as hell. He never complained if Argyle didn’t participate in their planning sessions because he knew Argyle’s lack of previous knowledge would probably just slow them down, and once during the night he said he’d do anything to leave Argyle as out of it as he could, that he felt guilty for bringing Argyle into all of it in the first place.

Argyle blamed him, it really was kind of Jonathan’s fault, but he also forgave him.

He forgave him the second after it all happened.

He would probably follow Jonathan anyway even if he knew beforehand where he was headed to.

He followed Jonathan into the final battle against that slimy, evil, twisted, disgusting son of a bitch. He followed Jonathan with homemade armor and homemade weapons, and a courage he didn’t really have. He followed Jonathan, El, Will, and Joyce — and all the rest of their weird, codependent, brought together by disasters, wrecked and beautiful found family. He was stuck with them now forever, he knew it. He wasn’t complaining. They were his family now, too.

But that specific day, that was the one that was the most blurred out. Maybe it was a coping mechanism that his fucked up brain came up with to give him a rest, or maybe it was his brain too fucked up from all the weed usage, but he was glad either way. If someone asked him, Argyle was sure he wouldn’t be able to retell the whole thing.

It was way too much. He was glad he didn’t remember.

They were all alive and sore and bruised and hurt after it, and they all still stayed in Steve’s big house — to make sure they were all together if it wasn’t really over, and because they healed better as a pack. The government lady had found her lost doctor sometime in the middle of it all, and the whole Party got some good deals out of everything. Argyle wasn’t even going to be sued by Surfer Boy Pizza for stealing a company van. He actually got to keep it, and he took out the surfboard from the roof, took out all the company stickers, cleaned it up real good and it ended up looking like a regular beautiful yellow van where no man had ever died inside.

El seemed to have lost her powers for good this time, but she was relieved. Will was never haunted by the creepy chills in the back of his neck again. Max woke up, and she was blind and would probably never walk again, but she was so grateful. Argyle cooked her favorite food — information provided by El — when she was released from the hospital, and of course she was led straight to Steve’s house. She didn’t know Argyle before the apocalypse almost took her away, but she thanked him with a beautiful crooked smile of a girl who defeated death, and everyone surrounded her with love and warmth and everything was almost perfect. They were acting like the kids they were. They were allowed to, now. The only thing they’d have to worry about from now on was school and homework, the occasional regular teenage problems. No more evil scientists, no more evil wizards, no more evil dimensions. Just, a bad grade in Latin, or having an unrequited crush, a pimple in the middle of their foreheads. Argyle was so happy for them.

Jonathan and the rest of the older ones also got to go back to normal. Steve and Robin’s only worry was finding a new job. Nancy and Jonathan finally talked it out and resolved their issues — by breaking up. Nancy would go to Emerson, Boston, as she wished, and Jonathan didn’t want to and it was fine. They had grown too much, apart from each other in the few months they were away. They didn’t need to be each other’s grounding points anymore, because they could find other people and find themselves and worry about regular young adult stuff like a bad grade in Journalism 101 or the fact they were out of weed or photographic film.

Jonathan wanted to go to New York.

Argyle could get on the first bus back to California, but he had no one there and that was okay, because here he had Jonathan. Jonathan, who Argyle crossed the country for, who Argyle walked into Hell for, who Argyle would probably follow anywhere.

So Jonathan decided to go to New York, and Argyle decided to follow him.

They took the renewed regular yellow van where no man had ever died, belts buckled in for the first time ever because they valued their lives a whole lot now. They took an atlas from Robin’s collection, a few pre-rolled joints Steve bought from god knows who, a bunch of snacks the kids gathered for them, clothes they borrowed because they ran away from California with no bags, and a tight hug from each and every one of their weird, codependent, brought together by disasters, wrecked and beautiful found family.

They took the I-69 to Indy, the I-70 to Pittsburgh, the I-76 to Philadelphia, and the I-95 to New York. Twenty hours on the road was nothing considering it took them three days to get from middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere (Nevada) to middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere (Indiana). They took turns driving, stopped for gas and lunch and dinner and a smoke session, slept in the back of the van in a parking lot until they weren’t high anymore, arrived in New York as the sky was pouring down on the city.

“The rain is nice,” Jonathan commented as he looked through the window in the passenger seat.

It hadn’t rained in Hawkins ever since the world almost ended. No matter how many times they showered, bathed, scrubbed all the grime and dirt and blood away, sometimes it still felt like they weren’t clean. The town was definitely still dirty.

“The rain is nice,” Argyle agreed.

They kept driving around, they got trapped in traffic, they got screamed and horned at, they laughed back because it felt nonsensical to be mad about cars in streets. They stopped at a diner, ate a bunch of eggs sunny side up, to counter the weather, watched the regulars and the waitresses and the cook in their routines, and they smiled at each other because it was so nice to see normal things for once. People living their normal lives. Not a single one of them aware that the two weird kids in the corner booth almost died so they could be spilling coffee on the counter and getting their mouths dirty with grease.

They asked for a cheap recommendation on a place they could rest, drove a little more, got a little more trapped in traffic, got a little more yelled and horned at, until they found the shitty motel that the waitress promised was decently cleaned no matter how fucked up it looked on the outside. But their expectations bar wasn’t high, anyway. They had two beds, separated by a tiny nightstand table, and they fell asleep turned to face each other, curtains open and bathroom lights on because the darkness couldn’t be trusted.

Next day emerged with the clouds all gone, the weirdest of contrasts, and a chilly wind kept throwing Argyle’s hair to all sides and Jonathan kept looking at him with a soft smile whenever it whipped his pale skin. They left the van in the motel and walked and walked and walked until their feet hurt, had no idea where they were going and no exact place to go to, a joint shared and their fingers touched and their mouths wrapped around the same paper. It was nothing, and it was everything.

They watched people passing by, everyone in such a hurry, people scowling and people smiling and people somehow with their expressions completely neutral. People living their normal lives, not a single one of them aware that the two weird kids walking shoulder to shoulder almost died so they could be running to catch the subway or signing for a cab to stop.

They managed to get back to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed and still felt unclean, collapsed on their separate beds again, turned to face each other, curtains open, bathroom lights left on.

Jonathan wanted to go to NYU.

Ever since he was six years old, he told Argyle. The Tisch Photography program was a big one, his dream ever since he had a bowl cut worst than Will’s, when his father was still home and his mom wasn’t overprotective because none of them knew monsters existed just under their feet.

Jonathan’s eyes gleamed as he spoke about the university, so Argyle offered and Jonathan agreed, and the next day Jonathan hopped on a subway train and Argyle followed him.

The subway was too much, Argyle noticed. He shared a look with Jonathan over someone else’s shoulder and knew they were thinking the same.

They went south south south to Greenwich Village with its pretty brownstones and its artsy students roaming around, so many of them, and Jonathan stopped across the street looking at the Tisch building for a long time, inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk, his fellow hipsters having to walk around him. Argyle looked at Jonathan the whole time, saw it firsthand as his gears turned, as the gleam in his eyes faded, as the wrinkle in his forehead deepened.

“Too much?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded. “For now, at least.”

Argyle just started walking and Jonathan followed, and they just walked across Greenwich Village until they were at the pier and they looked at New Jersey from afar, all the ferries crossing the Hudson, people still in a hurry all the goddamn time and Argyle’s fingers tapped against the railing that was there to stop him from falling into the water. He kinda wanted to do it just to see what it would feel like. He lost track of time staring at the water, and the boats, and the people on the boats living their normal lives, not a single one of them aware of the two weird kids on the pier that almost died so they could cross the river on a daily basis; and he felt Jonathan staring at him and maybe it should’ve been the other way around.

“Wanna try again?” he asked after, maybe, hours, and Jonathan nodded.

They walked back, Jonathan stopped inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk across the street, stared at the Tisch building for what wasn’t longer than a minute and a half.

“Too much,” he decided.

They took the subway back north north north to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed and still felt unclean, collapsed on their separate beds again, curtains open, bathroom lights left on. Jonathan turned away and slept looking at the wall. Argyle slept looking at Jonathan’s back.

Sun was still out bright the next day.

They went out silently for breakfast at a café a few blocks down, heard the weirdest fucking story told by the people sitting at the table next to them. One look at each other and they were back at the motel, into the van, across the bridge, east east east into Long Island and clouds started to appear the more further east they went.

Montauk sure had that creepy energy hanging in the air, as if everyone was constantly waiting for the shoe to drop, but it somehow didn’t feel as world-ending as Hawkins did. Jonathan whispered that if Will was there, he’d probably be scratching his neck by now. They kept heading east, into the State Park, to the lookout, out of the van. Stared at the ocean. All that amount of water, the vast nothingness of the view and the wide greatness it contained, and it should’ve been too much but Argyle let out a long sigh and breathed in deeply, a single drop of rain touched his forehead and it felt good.

They went back to the van, back to Manhattan, back to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed a little less, collapsed on their separate beds, curtains closed, bathroom lights left on, turned to face each other again. They said nothing. There was a constant hum from somewhere outside the motel, in the neighborhood, that lulled them to sleep. Argyle thought he heard Jonathan call for him but when he opened his eyes again Jonathan was snoring lightly. Argyle smiled at the view and fell back to unconsciousness.

Clouds were back the next day.

They checked out of the motel, Jonathan took the seat behind the wheel, headed back to I-95 again and hit the pedal hard. They drove for about half the time as they did from Hawkins to New York, never leaving the I-95, looking through the windows as they drove past New Haven, Providence, Boston, plus some stupidly small and completely forgettable towns in Maine.

They only left the I-95 when they passed the border, when the Highway didn’t exist anymore.

“Will they know we have weed?” Argyle asked as they were growing closer to the customs. They only had a single joint left, but it was worrying anyway.

“Don’t think they’ll check,” Jonathan answered, and he didn’t seem bothered at all.

Argyle doubted they would be able to cross, he didn’t even have a passport, but Jonathan was thankfully right. The guard asked for their drivers’ licenses only, where they were headed and what they were doing — Jonathan said they were on a roadtrip. When the guard asked how long they were planning on staying, Jonathan said “enough days to see a bit of the three east provinces”, and that’s when Argyle was sure the guard would tell them to turn around and get the fuck out, back to bumfuck-nowhere, Indiana. But he just nodded as he inspected the photos on their documents, and when he handed them back along with a pocket-sized canadian atlas he said: “Have fun.”

And that was it.

Argyle’s shoulders dropped from where they had situated above his ears as Jonathan waited until the customs couldn’t be seen from the windows anymore so he could hit the pedal hard again, this time on what they called the Trans-Canada Highway (information provided by the pocket-size atlas gifted to them by a random and kind government employee).

Jonathan drove for about an hour and a half after they crossed, and Argyle’s sudden drop of adrenaline made him doze off for a while before he woke up as Jonathan was parking at a motel. He looked around, saw some signs, picked up the pocket-size atlas from where it had fallen off to the floor of the van.

“You wanna stay in…” he checked the atlas, “Fredericton, New Brunswick? This was your destination all along?” he asked with a grin.

Jonathan chuckled. “I’m just tired for today. But I wanna keep going, actually. If that’s okay?” his eyes were suddenly filled with doubt, and oh no, Argyle couldn’t have that.

“Absolutely, my man. Point where and I’m headed right behind ‘ya,” he was smiling, and his tone was light-hearted, but he was being the most honest he ever was.

Jonathan seemed to get it, because he was looking back at him with that reserved soft smile of his and Argyle’s brain went a little fuzzy, but it was probably from the nap he took.

They went inside the motel, finally, got their bedroom with two beds, separated by nothing but a few inches, and Argyle’s first instinct was to actually bring them together so they’d be just one big bed, but he restrained. They took showers, didn’t really scrub a lot, collapsed on their barely separate beds, curtains closed, bathroom light left off, turned to face each other. Argyle fell asleep with a smile on his face, and if he didn’t dream it, Jonathan had one of his own on his lips.

Next day was more than cloudy, it was pouring rain again.

Jonathan sat behind the steering wheel once more, hit the pedal and they headed east east east, so far east that Argyle feared for a second that they were going to reach the border of the world or something. They crossed New Brunswick and almost reached Nova Scotia, but then Jonathan took a sharp turn north.

“An island, man?” Argyle asked as they crossed the bridge to Prince Edward. Jonathan just shrugged, but he was smiling wider than Argyle had ever seen him smile before. Not bothered at all. It was a good sight to see.

The capital city was on the southeast, but Jonathan kept going north again. It seemed like they were almost at the end of the island before he finally stopped, at some stupidly small and completely forgettable town.

“This place has probably half of the citizens of Hawkins,” Argyle noted.

“I need a phone,” Jonathan said.

His smile didn’t falter.

They found the single Bed & Breakfast the town had to offer, asked for a bedroom — it only had one bed, they didn’t mind and neither did the young lady in charge —, they asked to use their phone, “How much is a phone call to Indiana, you think?” Jonathan asked Argyle, smile turning into a wicked grin and Argyle had definitely never seen that, so the only answer he could come up with was a loud laugh.

Jonathan dialed.

Argyle saw the lady had a bong on her table, so he lit up their final joint.

They waited for the phone to be answered.

Jonathan’s eyes never left Argyle’s, and their wide smiles were like mirrors of each other. Argyle had no idea what Jonathan was up to, clearly no good, but Argyle was down to it anyway. He’d follow Jonathan in whatever disturbed plan he had, to whatever edge of the world he wanted to go to.

And, finally:

“Hop, hey, it’s Jon. I’m in Canada. Yeah, you heard it right, Canada. Do you think Owens’ FBI friends can do us a final favor?”

⟿

Argyle looks out the window.

In the reflex, he sees Jonathan, his head on Argyle’s shoulder, and he’s also looking out the window. It’s been like this for a few months now, just the two of them, in tandem, doing the same things. Synchronized. It feels good, the best he ever felt. Jonathan’s skin is warm against Argyle where their arms touch, and he smiles without even thinking about it. It’s been like this for a few months now, smiling around just at the thought or sight of Jonathan. It feels good. The best he ever felt about someone.

“I’m really glad we did this,” Jonathan mumbles against Argyle’s shoulder.

This: a trip along the coast to a different country? This: bribing the government for a new beginning in a town so small and forgettable that no monster, human or not, could find them again? This: getting a house of their own, a fucking boat and a fishing license, a truck they could drive down to Charlottetown on good days?

This: falling in love in the process?

Argyle’s not sure what Jonathan is referring to. He’s really glad too, either way.

Argyle looks at their small world out the window.

It’s Sunday morning, commerce is all closed, streets are empty. The sun is covered by clouds, a summer thunderstorm approaching, and he can see the sea from here. There’s no one at the beach. The waves look nice. All that amount of water, the vast nothingness of the view and the wide greatness it contains.

It’s not too much. It’s nothing at all, actually, and it’s everything.

And it’s perfect that way.

#jargyle #jonathan byers x argyle #jargyle fanfic #jargyle fic #jargyle oneshot #argyle x jonathan byers #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #lui writes #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #should've posted this tomorrow on jargyle jursday but oh well. what's done is done

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wrathful--artist · 1 year

Text

Caged Bird and Chased Mouse

Part 3: The Beginning of the Never Ending Mouse Wheel

A/N: ahahahaha,,, im sorry? But at least im finally reaching the Sabzeru festival bit of this story, im sorry its been a while. The reader’s feeling about the arts is based on my own, because I’m an artist and anyone who demeans any form of art make me angry >:(. Let’s start ig (oh stars this is not gonna be good) Anyway’s send me asks if you want

Warnings: Swearing (fuck and shit)

You head hurts so bad, but at least you’re comfy (small victories).

You open your eyes to see… your bedroom? Oh, yeah, you’re in a pseudo dream so not really, you guess.

‘Wait if im in a dream why the hell do I have a headache?’ You ponder to yourself while siting up from your bed, your body missing the familiar coziness and warmth,

You look around in hopes to see the lil green girl, Nahida she said? You’re not a hundred percent sure, considering how… hazy everything felt in the moment, including the time passage. ‘How long have I been out?’ You wonder, knowing you’ll gain no answers without Nahida. You decide to wander around your room, seeing what you could do here. You walk towards the window, which shows the outside with the bird feeder you had been meaning to refill before being sucked into a nightmare that has been this experience thus far. Grabbing the ledge on the window, you try and open it out of pure curiosity, it takes a struggle you know it didn’t need before only to see..

Black. Everywhere.

You try the door to see if it’s the same situation (it was). Just a never ending darkness stretching on seemingly forever. Deciding that most of the items in your room was useless for really anything in the moment, you walk towards your desk that housed your device for playing Genshin. The wretched thing that condemned you to a nightmare, but you knew it really couldn’t do anything to worsen your situation (God you hoped not). Booting it up just showed your lock screen, so far so good, putting in the password bring you to…

Huh?

Genshin??

You sit there for a solid 5 minutes wondering ‘What the actual hell???’, because thats crazy, somehow more crazy then being stuck in the damn game itself. You snap out of your stupor and decide to click on the screen (which is no longer welcoming you by your email, but your ingame name. Your somewhat glad it wasn’t using your real name) waiting for the loading sequence, but it just skips to opening the giant door. You wait with just a white screen, no elemental symbols in sight. When it finishes you’re not greated by any playable character’s back, but by a spirit??

What?

It looked like you in a sense, it was transparent with a simple robe. You took a look at the icons that the normal attack, elemental skill, and burst was usually located, only to see a button that looked like it was punching (?), one that was touching, and the final one looked like it was… well you couldn’t really tell what it was supposed to be. But you decided against trying any of them out of fear of what might occur. Looking around you realized ‘you’ were right in the middle of Sumeru City, right next to the adventurer’s guild. Walking around was a bit odd, you were very used to hearing the character’s footsteps and clothes moving but this spirit had no noise at all.

You end up at the front of “The Grand Bazaar”, an area you had been meaning to visit before falling into a coma-state. Opening the door and walking down the small hallway led to somewhere that was bustling with festivities! It was so pretty with all the flowers and decorations, you wonder what the occasion is as you continue onwards. Looking at some of the food stalls you really regret not going there, it just looks so good (you bet it smelt delicious). Not paying attention you end up walking the spirit right though someone,

“Brr! Woah, did you just feel that?”

“No?”

“It was a really cold draft, how did you not feel that?”

“There’s no draft in here.”

You just stop to listen,

‘So this character is functionally a ghost? Huh’ You continue through the Grand Bazaar to another entrance, hearing a… familiar voice, one you haven’t heard in forever. Walking through the doors you see,

Lumine and Paimon.

They were talking with a strange looking man with 5 containers in front of him. But all you could think was how were they here. You remembered you left your team in Inazuma before getting sucked in because you set commissions there (you were grinding achievements), in all honesty you wonder where your team is at the moment… you hope they’re okay and don’t hate you. You walk up to the two, deciding to follow them for now, to follow a story you never got to see before getting sucked into this.

“—speaking of tradition, do you want some Yalda Candies? They're a festival staple, and I happen to have some boxes readied here. Take a look and pick whichever one you want.” The odd looking man with a mustache and flower hat offers Lumine and Paimon the mentioned candies

“Whichever one... Don't these boxes all look the same?” Paimon asks with her not at all annoying voice (you’re being totally honest!)

You muse while peering down at the containers with your character, “Yeah, they sorta do. But they do have some different colors!” You speak to yourself in the dream-room, simply speaking aloud.

“?!” Lumine suddenly started to look around them, seemingly startled

‘Wonder what Lumine’s spooked about?? Nothing seems out of place or weird…’

“Haha, this is the fun part. Each box contains a random flavor — it's up to the luck of the draw. Flavors include Lavender Melon, Harra Fruit, Sunsettia...” The flower man continues to talk, seemingly unaware of Lumine’s confusion.

Paimon, the flower man, and a regal looking lady kept talking to each other, but at this point I was focused on Lumine. ‘Maybe she can hear me with this character?’ You move the character to be closer to Lumine, “if you can hear me Lumine, uhm… Pick the 2nd container!”

Lumine immediately pointed to the 2nd container “I pick this one.”. Her sudden interruption made the three others pause.

Flower man cleared his throa, “uhm, A-atten-tion! That's unfortunately Harra Fruit. The Sunsettia candy was in the 4th one”

“Aw man! I thought you only won battles because you had good luck but i guess not” Paimon interjected

“That still sounds good! I’d assume Harra fruit tastes like dragonfruit so that seems like it’d be a good treat!” You say out-loud, then turn your voice to Lumine, “Thanks Lumine, ignore Paimon ahaha. I’m sorry I left you in Inazuma…”

Lumine seems to blush then nod to the direction of where my character was.

You follow the three throughout the day, and we finally arrive to watch the dancer Nilou’s performance. You were pretty excited, never have really seen a dance performance. While you couldn’t see it with your own two eyes in person, at least you could get as close as you could. But it seemed like there was someone yelling at Nilou.

The regal lady (that you learned her name was Dunyarzad) chimed in “I think I just saw the Akademiya's Grand Sage... Why is he here in person?”

The two Akademiya officials kept yelling at Nilou, while Dunyarzad looked like she wanted to step in and stop it. “Lumine, please stop Dunyarzad I don’t thing things will go well if she tried to intervene.” You whisper into Lumine’s ear, having become a bit worried for Dunyarzad since you discovered what she was dealing with.

Lumine listens and convinces Dunyarzad not to confront the Akademiya people. You get closer as a group to hear a bit better, and as you listen to what the Akademiya officials are toting about, it makes your blood boil.

You valued the arts before all this, buying several commissioned pieces, listening to music at any given point, and seen a musical or two. Hearing the Sages (?) demean those arts makes you want to punch them. “Not everything is about knowledge you old idiots! Art is human nature just let her dance, and besides the arts can be used to understand the past, and find more knowledge you fuckers. Be lucky I can’t physically punch you.”

You rant to yourself (maybe a lil to Lumine too, considering she can hear you) angry at what they’re saying. You move your character over to the Sage’s and spam the punch button (it satisfied you to know it was in-fact a punch button and watching the character’s transparent fists phased through the Sages made you deeply happy). While you’re enjoying your non-consequential vengeance, they leave (muttering how cold the Bazaar is) and Paimon and Dunyarzad starts to comfort Nilou while Lumine and you stay back.

Lumine and Paimon return to where they’re staying, you follow. They lay down for sleep and suddenly-

BEEP

The loudest noise you’ve ever heard in your life rings throughout the dream-room, your head feels like it’s about to explode. “FUCK!” Your hands try and block the noise from your ear but it’s too late and you faint from the pain.

You head hurts so bad.

You open your eyes to see… your bedroom? Oh, yeah, you’re in a pseudo dream so not really, you guess.

‘Wait if im in a dream why the hell do I have a headac- wait this feels familar?’ You ponder to yourself while siting up from you bed.

You stand up from your bed and walk (back?) to the desk with your device, opening to the Genshin door again. You click and wonder what the hell that noise was before you fainted (?) was. When it finishes loading, you see the spirit character you remember, with the three buttons, punch, touch, and mystery. You make the character run around, hoping you’ll find Lumine and Paimon. You got lost so many times unfamiliar with the layout of the city, eventually you end up back at the candy stand you first saw Lumine and Paimon. The flower man (you really need to find out his name..) was still there with the candy containers. ‘Wait, shouldn’t he not be here since the Festival was cancelled?’ You wonder to yourself, not realizing that Lumine and Paimon started to walk up.

“Farris, the Knight of Flowers, is another Sabzeruz Festival icon, and one immensely popular with children.” After hearing the newly familiar voice Dunyarzad, you turn the character’s camera behind you to reveal the 3 approaching.

“Haha, it's all thanks to Miss Dunyarzad's sponsorship that the children can meet the Knight of Flowers.” Farris (that doesn’t seem right…) replies, “Oh, do you want some Yalda Candies? I happen to have some boxes readied here. Take a look and pick whichever one you want.”

Your eyes widen, ‘Wait, i remember this! The fourth one has the sunsettia candy, but why is this happening again?’

“Uhh, what's to pick? Don't these boxes all look the same?” Paimon says the same thing she said the first time

You move your character behind Lumine, and your finger hovers over the touch button. You click on it, your character’s hand laches onto her shoulder. “Pick the 4th one Lumine.”

“Ah, excellently chosen! Number four is indeed Sunsettia.” Farris congratulates Lumine on picking the right one.

You follow Lumine and Paimon throughout the day (again?) until you reach the Bazaar again, Nilou’s performance supposed to be underway. But the Sage’s are there and yelling at Nilou, Dunyarzad wants to stop them but Lumine stops her. The Sage’s demean the arts, you ghost punch the sages, and Dunyarzad comforts Nilou.

Lumine and Paimon return to the hotel, they get ready for sleep.

BEEP

“SHIT NOT AGAIN” You scream, again, it still fucking hurt but you don’t faint this time. Your device crashed and everything around you became blurry and glitched and you felt sick. You closed your eyes for just a second, and when you opened them again, you were in bed.

‘Am I in a timeloop?’ You walk to the desk with your device, again. With the idea of a timeloop troubling you.

Genshin boots up.

Loads in as the spirit character.

Punch, touch, mystery.

Flower Knight and candy containers.

“Container 4.”

Sage’s yelling.

“Punch the Sages, Lumine”

Dunyarzad comforts Nilou.

Return to Hotel.

BEEP.

Headspliting noise.

Reset.

______________________________________

Im so sorry this took so long, IM NOT A WRITER. Also do you guys want me to put this on Ao3 I have an account but i’ve never posted a fanfic on it.

Taglist: (if your name is crossed out i couldn’t tag you! :( )

Taglist: @no-name-omo @moosieman12345 @tinandabin @esthelily @d0rmiens-fact0rem @lunalily19 @meerpea @justasleepyboi @lunarianillusion @cumbermovels @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @dulleyeddreamer @ello-its-me-ya-boi @jayastronomicnova @apple-ai @campanula-rotundifolia @kokomisimpppp @the-dumber-scaramouche @aintrovertmortal @i-loveyou013 @mochicurls21 @elernity

#genshin impact #au #genshin fanfic #genshin impact sagau #sagau #sagau brainrot #genshin lumine #genshin paimon #genshin #fanfic #imagine people following a blog for fanfic when they’re an artist #reader x sagau #sagau x reader

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sageworld · 10 months

Text

Kitty • Frank Morrison

frank knew you before the trail. you were in his foster home before the one in Mount Ormond. you were a couple years younger than him but that hadn’t stopped the two of you from fooling around.

you remember the day he left and went to his next, promising he would see his kitty again. kitty being the nickname he had granted you.

last thing you heard of him was him and some others going missing shortly after he had arrived to ormond. you tried his cell, no answer. you waited and waited.

that is until one faithful halloween night you drunkenly drive you car into a pot hole, not enough to kill you but enough to knock you out.

you don’t remember waking up, you find yourself just standing in a feild of corn. you look down and see some sort of medical kit in your hand.

what the?

you cant help but wonder. you look to your left and see 3 people working on some machine.

a small asian girl, a ginger girl wearing sports attire & and tall white man with glasses.

“hey.” you shout from where you are. “where am-?” you’re shhh’d by the 3 of them as they wave you over.

you come to them and they explain to you as much as they can about what’s going on before you hear a loud noise next to you before you know it they’re all running.

you’re frozen next to the machine in fear as a masked man stalks up to you.

you’re confused and he welds a knife in one hand but uses his other to gently caress your face.

“kitty?” the familiar voice questions. “frank?” your dough eyes widen and come into his embrace as he picks you up. “oh my kitty, i never thought id see you again.” he says. “why’re you wearing that? what’re you doing?” you ask and lift up the mask.

“i’m sorry kitty, im sorry you’re here, like this.” he sympathizes. “what’re you talking about?” you’re confused somewhat thinking this is a dream or maybe a coma state.

“we’re trapped here kitty, forever. you have to survive and i-well i have to kill.” he slowly puts you down. “but i’m not going to hurt you of course, but that doesn’t mean the others won’t before i can talk to them.”

“what-.” you’re cut off “look kitty i don’t have much time but keep working on this.” he points to the gen with his knife. “i’ll come back when you’re done.” he runs his hands through your hair. “i love you kitty.” he pushes a kiss onto your lips, something that’s felt like forever.

“i’ll see you soon kitty.” he pulls away and runs of towards an exploding sound.

what the heck is going on?

#dbd #dead by deadlight #legion #frank morrison #albert wesker #ghost face #trickster #dbd memes #dbd fan fic #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd oc #dbd huntress

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.14

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Warnings: child loss, delirious dreams

Words:2098

Summary: You dangle between the realm of the living and the comforting arms of the Stranger

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

An animal’s howl of pain.

Holding onto your mother’s hand as the maesters pulled the needle through your skin to stitch your wounds together.

Joanna could only do so much to soothe you in your anguish. Tears of her own disfiguring her lovely face as she buries her face against the crown of your head. “You’ll be okay my love.” Her promises fall on deaf ears as you continue to scream at the iron hot pain in your back.

You felt like you were in hell all over again, this time the pain resonating deep in your stomach as you continued to wretch out blood. Rhaegar desperately flitted about at your side as the maesters tried everything within their knowledge to help you.

You wanted to die.

Begged the Gods to take away your pain. You just wanted everything to end.

There was no peace for you as you wreathed in your bed, moaning and making a mess. Between spasms of pain you catch a few words shared between the maesters and your husband.

Poison.

Baby.

Dead.

When there is too much pain for you to handle and nothing left to throw up you enter a state of delirium before passing out in a feverish coma.

“You’ll be okay my love.” You hear your mother murmur softly. The ghost of her fingers brushing against the crown of your head. Droplets of her tears landing on your cheek. When you open your eyes you see but a fiery figure taking the shape of your long departed mother. She was beautiful even consumed by flames. Long hair pleated and decorated in gentle pearls, her round face looking at you sadly.

“M. . .” Weakly you reach up to stroke her face. The vision distorts, leaving your hand grasping at whiteness that swept through your surroundings. It pulled you up before throwing you back down and soon enough you were hurling into a large grassy field the color of flames. Where had your mother gone? You wanted your mother. As you land harshly you cling to the blades and sob. Where was your mother? Why did she leave you again?

“Stand up.”

You continued to sob feeling utterly helpless.

“Stand UP.”

Tilting your head upward you find a woman standing before you. (e/c) mirroring your own yet they held a type of battle weary wisdom. A knowing. (h/c) hair, long and braided falling over her shoulder to settle atop her armor clad breast.

“I can’t.” You whisper, ashamed in the presence of someone as intimidating as she was. “I’m but a mouse. . .”

There’s an inhuman shriek that fills the sky and makes you flinch harder against the ground as you try to hide. You’ve heard it somewhere before.

“You’ve lost it, you know. The baby.” The Warrior tells you.

What was that shriek?

“The sooner you get up, the sooner you’ll awaken.”

The shriek came again and this time you were able to see the outline of a winged beast in the orange burned sky. You were mesmerized by the sight of it but as you looked back to the woman your surroundings were different. Darker and cold. In the woman’s place sat a large dragon skull.

“The Long Night is to come” A voice resonated from deep within the skull. Tiny flames danced in the hollow sockets where it’s eyes once were.

There are more whispers around you that answer. “The night is dark and full of terrors.”

“Lord of Light defend us.”

“Lord of Light protect us.”

You jolt at the loud clatter in front of you. Squinting your eyes in the dark you’re barely able to make out the familiar shape of a sword. When you reach out to it, the sword bursts into flames; showering the cell with light.

“Lord of Light shine your face upon us.”

“For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

The flames from the sword don’t burn you though. They weave and dance around your fingertips.

“You’ll be okay my love.” Your mother’s voice repeats.

He refused to move from her side. Nothing in the world could get Rhaegar to move as he kept century over (y/n). She was deathly pale and soaked in sweat. The bedsheets had been clean from her earlier mess but now (y/n) was silent as the dead. Rhaegar swallowed hard, his hand going to smooth away the stray strands of hair that were stuck to her forehead. She burned. At that point he would rather her still be throwing up, at least that had been a sign that she was still alive. Now though. . . Now she was on the brink. Pulling his hand away he noticed it was trembling. Rhaegar caught it with his other and brought it to his chest. He felt utterly helpless. Like a child once again. What was there to do for her? The maesters already declared her dying.

Rhaegar felt his hard pressed lips loosen in a quake. To lose both his wife and child in the same day. . .

Ignoring the commotion outside and refusing anyone entry, Rhaegar kisses (y/n)’s cracked lips. “Please wake up. Please.” He couldn’t deny the stench of death that exalted from her. It made his shoulders quiver. He would lose her. The Stranger would take her.

(y/n)’s dry lips parted and Rhaegar felt his heart skip a beat. Hope made him hold his breath as he waited for any words to come out of her mouth.

Like the whisper of death, in a tired and cracked voice came out the words “Long Night.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, lips pressing firmly back together. Had he heard her correctly. A chill ran up Rhaegar’s spine. The Long Night. How would she know about that?

Suddenly the bedroom door flew open to reveal Griff and Arthur Dayne. He wanted to reprimand them for intruding. For making such a fuss while his wife was on her deathbed.

“Pardon, Your Grace.” Arthur hastily says, sensing the tension in the room and eying the unconscious (y/n). “We must speak with you. And it cannot wait.”

“What do you mean it can’t wait? (y/n) is dying. I don’t want to speak of anything else except a way to make her better.” Rhaegar unintentionally snaps at them. He couldn’t help but lose his composure though.

The red haired knight of Griffin’s Roost, steps forward. “With all due respect, we think you should leave King’s Landing. Someone poisoned (y/n). That much is very clear. They poisoned her at last night’s feast. We have a suspicion that it could very well be your own father.”

It was plausible. Still. . . Rhaegar didn’t want to even consider it. “What. . . ?”

Arthur sighs. “We know you’re in shock and worried about (y/n). But the Mad King is a very likely suspect. He’s losing his wits quite rapidly and everyone knows that you have lost favor with him. The only reason why he let you marry (y/n) was to upset Tywin. Maybe that all he intended for you was to have a plaything so to speak so you wouldn’t bother him and that he could simply replace you with Viserys. He never actually intended for you to carry on with the Targaryen legacy. (y/n) being pregnant, well, that just didn’t suit his crazy plan.”

“For your own safety, you need to leave.” Griff cuts in, his tone now gentle. “Leave and organize your army. We have to strike soon. Aerys has gone out of control.”

“I can’t leave (y/n).” Rhaegar insists. “Not now. I need to be here with her. What if she dies without me being here with her? She’ll die alone. I can’t do that to her. I can’t break her heart again.”

At his heart aching words the two knights realized that their prince, the one who had longed for Lyanna for years, was now truly in love with his wife. They exchange a concerned glance.

Slowly Griff tells his Silver Prince “You have to do this for her. Avenge her. Call your bannermen.”

Clearly torn on what to do, Rhaegar grasps (y/n)’s hands. If Aerys was truly to blame. . . He couldn’t let his father continue to live. That much was certain. If (y/n) were to die in his absence?

He brings her small hands up to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

In the end he knew he had to do what was best for Westeros. (y/n) would’ve wanted that. After all, she was the most selfless person he had ever met. He knew that if she were still conscious, (y/n) would insist he go. That she would be fine.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise. So don’t you dare die.”

“He’s fled King’s Landing?” Impassively, Tywin puts down his parchment to address a furious Jaime. “Even though his wife is dying.”

“I would’ve never taken Rhaegar for a coward.” Cersei comments, shaking her head in mild disgust. She doesn’t lift her eyes from her needlework but there’s a phantom smirk that plays on her heart shaped lips. Long, lovely curls veil her face so no one could see what her face betrayed. Delight. True that she had never thought of Rhaegar to be cowardly. A part of her is somewhat glad that she didn’t end up marrying her if Rhaegar had been willing to leave (y/n) in fear.

Tywin slowly nods. “Yes. Me neither. Of course an attempted assassination so close to him is enough to cause concern.”

“It’s unforgivable.” Jaime quivers. “That spineless. . .”

The way he was acting sparked something in Cersei. “Why are you so upset?”

Eying his elder twin, Jaime knows what she’s insinuating. He realizes that he is behaving like a scorned lover. Rhaegar had just left (y/n) to die. His (y/n). It was such an unspeakable act that Jaime just couldn’t control himself. “This could be taken as a slight to our family. And whoever poisoned (y/n), well, we can’t let that just go by. She’s a Lannister, first and foremost.”

“Jaime’s right. She is a Lannister. Which means we have to look into this. If this truly is Aerys’ doing as those gossip mongers claim then he has done our family the greatest insult.” Pale eyes, wisened with age turn to his son clad in magnificent armor and looking every part of knight. Although Tywin thought he would look better with a lord’s title. “We might have to make our move. Lest Aerys get the rest of us.”

Frowning Jaime inquires as to what his father meant by that.

“Rhaegar plans to overthrow his father.” Tywin simply states as if it were nothing new.

“And how did you come about this information?” Did Aerys really have something to fear after all?

“Rhaegar.”

“Why would he tell you something so important.”

“Why anyone would tell us anything. He wants the Lannisters to back him up in the war to come. Possibly because (y/n) is a Lannister he thought I’d be more inclined to help.”

A bit of heat makes Jaime’s face uncomfortably warm. Of course Tywin wasn’t concerned that (y/n) was dying. He had never cared. Never. Jaime doesn’t remember one moment where Tywin treated her like he treated Cersei. He ignored her as much as he ignored Tyrion. Tywin, for all his brains and eloquent manner of speaking, was a shit father. In reality, Jaime doubted that the man truly cared for any of his children and what they wanted. He remembered the argument they got into when Jaime wanted to be a knight. How his father told him that he was supposed to be the next in line to inherit Casterly Rock. Jaime didn’t want that life of a lord. That’s why at the nearest chance he got to become a knight, Jaime jumped on it before his father could stop him. Which led to another fight. Tywin always claimed that family was the most important thing in the world, and that’s why he invested so much strategy and planning into his family. Ensure the Lannister name would continue to thrive.

That’s why he had accepted Rhaegar’s offer. Help him take the throne, and he would make sure that the Lannisters would be repaid in full. After all, once Rhaegar took the throne, (y/n) would be queen. Regardless if Tywin didn’t like her she was still a Lannister. A Lannister that would finally be seated on the throne.

Now though? How did that alliance come into play now with (y/n). . . with (y/n) on the verge of entering the Stranger’s embrace.

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TAGLIST:

@esposadomd

@ladybug0095

#Rhaegar Targaryen #rhaegar targaryen fanfiction #rhaegar targaryen fanfic #rhaegar targaryen x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fic #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom

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aylacavebear · 2 months

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Stockroom Antics - Chapter 15

A/N: This is, by far, my favorite chapter out of the ones I've written. I love how it turned out, and I hope all of you like it as well. Enjoy.

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 2675

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 15

The dream came to you again, but it was far different this time than you’d ever experienced. Typically, you didn’t interact with any of them, and you barely ever interacted with anything in the environment.

The breeze was cool against your skin in the forest that towered over and around you. This place always made you think of how an ant might see the world around it. The trunks of the trees were so large that a home could be built inside one of them, with several stories. Then there was the plant life that came in all shapes and sizes, even some interesting yet odd colors. There was a well-worn path, so you followed it like you always did. This time, though, you gently touched the plant life around you as you passed by it, even smelling some of the very odd-shaped flowers. As you walked, you heard odd sounds. All you could guess was that they were either birds of some sort or perhaps even bugs. Everything prior to this was always muffled, and you were more of an invisible observer. Soon, the path opened up to what looked like a village. You noticed other things that looked like people, but only a tiny portion of them were human. You weren’t sure how you knew this; you just did. There were even children running around, playing. Several of these people smiled at you as you walked by, so you returned a friendly smile to them.

“Nice to finally see you,” a woman said when she approached you, causing you to stop in your tracks. “You can see me?” you asked, completely puzzled. “Of course I can. We’ve all been waiting for you. I’m Asteria. It’s my job to greet the newcomers,” she told you excitedly. At this point, you felt like you had a million questions but no idea where to even start, “How?” was all you managed to get out. She giggled and took your hand, “Come on. Let's sit down and talk.” Asteria took you over toward a large tree that looked like it was someone’s home, and a table with two chairs appeared out of thin air. Your shock made you sit down, slowly, setting your hands on the table as you did to steady yourself. “Okay. I’m going to guess that you either found your soulmate and are in the beginning stages of getting to know each other. Or…” she paused, tilting her head a bit, “You’re trying to exhaust yourself and force the awakening.” The mere mention of the soulmate thing helped you find your tongue, “Soulmates aren’t a thing,” you stated, rolling your eyes. She giggled again, covering her mouth to stifle some of it, “Oh dear, soulmates are a thing. For a Peri, it’s a very important thing, too.” That was when a man came up to her and kissed her on the cheek, gently setting his hand on the small of her back, “Hello dear. I felt your excitement. Care to introduce us?” he said with a happy smile. All you could do was tilt your head a bit in confusion, your expression matching. Something you’d never believed in was apparently very real. After your accident, you had reserved yourself to be alone, figuring no one would ever accept you for the things you could do. More than likely finding you odd or a freak. “Breccan, this is Maria. She finally made it, at least in her dreams,” Asteria told him, still utterly excited. “I’m trying to explain the soulmate thing to her.”

“Oh,” he said, then turned to you, giving you a friendly smile, “Nice to meet you, Maria. Soulmates are a very real thing. I’m not a Pari like you and Asteria. I’m an angel. Anything with a soul is capable of having a soulmate.” You literally couldn’t believe what you were hearing at the moment. It went against everything you’d believed and everything you’d told yourself. You just looked between the two of them. Breccan looked back down at Asteria, “You’ve got your hands full with this one,” he chuckled before he kissed her on the cheek again and left. She smiled and shook her head a bit before looking back at you, “Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” It took you a moment to snap out of your thoughts and confusion, as well as your surprise and shock of this entire situation before you could even answer her. “With where I’m from, no one will accept me with what I can do,” you sighed and finally were able to look away from her. “Oh honey,” she said sympathetically, “Having a soulmate is something a Peri needs to be completely fulfilled. You’ll always feel like a piece of you is missing until you find them. You just have to open yourself up to the possibility. I’m not saying to hope for it, just… don’t close yourself off to it,” she explained compassionately.

“You’ve had to talk to others about this before, haven’t you,” you asked, mostly mumbling as you remembered what the books had said. Although, the books hadn’t mentioned anything about this place. “I was a lot like you once. It was a very long time ago, though. Would you believe I’m just over three hundred years old?” she chuckled, “I didn’t even find my soulmate till almost fifty years ago now. I saw a lot of other Peri find theirs. After a couple hundred years, I began to lose hope that I’d ever find mine. I even traveled to different dimensions. The moment I gave up completely, I found Beccan. Or, I should say, he found me.” Her story surprised you further, causing you to look up at her again. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five. You figured that had to be the magic of the Pari, as well as their dimension and living in the community that they did. Just then, a small, purple-colored dragon landed on the table, staring at you, causing you to jump.

“What is that?” you asked, shocked. “Huh, that doesn’t normally happen till after a Peri goes through its awakening,” Asteria remarked, slightly surprised. “What doesn’t normally happen?” you asked, your focus on the purple dragon that was the size of a large cat or even a small dog. It just kept staring at you, blinking like it was waiting for something. “Having your familiar show up and bond with you,” she replied, looking down at the little dragon. Then, her eyes widened, and she looked up at you, “Unless you’ve recently met your soulmate, and you don’t know it.” There was an odd excitement in her tone.

The thought of that worried you a bit. You’d only recently met three people, all men: the brothers and the King of Hell. That last one made you shiver, as it creeped you out quite a bit. You looked from Asteria to the little purple dragon, “Not sure how I feel about that. What… how…” you weren’t even sure how to ask your question. Asteria tilted her head a bit as she looked at you, “How do you bond with your familiar? It’s fairly easy. Just interact with it,” she practically chuckled. You weren’t sure if you enjoyed the amusement she was getting out of your situation, but you didn’t say anything. Interact with a dragon the size of a large cat. It looked harmless, at least at the moment. A sense of determination coursed through you. Then, you reached out your hand toward the little dragon. It hadn’t stopped staring at you since it had landed there. Now, it tilted its head, still blinking at you. The moment you touched its head, a warmth passed over your entire body, and the little dragon became almost animated, playful, in an excited sort of way. The way it even seemed to act like a cat, more like a kitten, made you laugh and giggle. It turned itself in a few circles, mouth open, almost like it was smiling. Then, it laid down on its back, feet up in the air, and its tail was almost wagging. Your laughter only got louder, and you rubbed its belly. “Can you hear its thoughts yet?” she asked you, tilting her head. You looked up at her, “Huh?” “Okay, so not yet. Well, as the bond increases, you’ll be able to communicate with each other, telepathically,” she explained, smiling happily. “So, what happens now?” you asked her, looking back down at the little dragon and smiling again, still rubbing its belly.

“Well, eventually you’ll wake up. You clearly exhausted yourself. Depending on how badly will depend on how long you sleep. Your little familiar there can move between this dimension and the one you’re in. So, she’ll probably hang out with you for a while. When the telepathy starts, the first thing you’ll probably hear is her name,” she explained to you. “What’s this place called?” you asked her, not looking up from the little dragon. “Our little community here is called Whispering Woods. This dimension is called Etheria. We’re only one community on this particular planet. The reason you came here is because this is where your bloodline is. When your powers do awaken, you’ll recognize your extended family,” she told you, happy to answer any and all of your questions. The little dragon was getting rather playful, then flew off. You watched it, somewhat puzzled. Just when you wondered what it was up to, it landed back on the table in front of you, something round in its mouth. It then dropped it on the table, causing you to tilt your head. The thing it dropped was mostly round and blue, and when you picked it up, it was only slightly soft. The dragon's eyes never left the small object in your hands. “What? You want to play fetch or something?” you asked it, puzzled. Your question made the little dragon jump up and down and then run in circles a couple of times, causing you to laugh again. So, you tossed the ball, but before it could hit the ground, the little dragon flew over and caught it in mid-air. It then came back to the table and dropped the ball in front of you again. “It's kinda cute,” you chuckled.

“Dragons aren’t normally familiars, especially the smaller ones. I’ll be interested to see what happens when your powers do fully awaken and what you’ll be capable of. Some Pari are different, and we all have a different set of powers. Some are more powerful than others. Then there's what your soulmate brings out in you,” she told you, chuckling at the little dragon, “The fact that you were born a human and this little girl is your familiar is also interesting.” You sat and talked with her for at least an hour, playing fetch with the little dragon. It eventually found its way to your lap, curling up in a ball and going to sleep on you, your hand resting over its wings on its back. That’s when you heard it, a male voice, only it sounded far away, almost a whisper. You turned your head, looking around for the source. “Sounds like you might be ready to wake up soon,” Astaria told you, causing you to look at her, puzzled again. “What do you mean?” you asked. “Someone is trying to wake you,” she explained, smiling a little. Who would be in your room, you thought to yourself as you closed the door before passing out. You also felt a pull on your body, well, your dream body, and wondered if perhaps this was more of astral projection than actual dreaming. “Will I see you again?” you asked her. “I’m sure you will,” she chuckled. You got the sneaking suspicion that she knew more than she was telling you at the moment. Then, the dragon disappeared out of your lap. You looked around, wondering where it could have gotten off to. Before you could do much else, everything went black.

In the waking world, the little purple dragon had appeared on your bed, startling the brothers, who were both in your room. It gently climbed onto your stomach and sat there, staring at them as they both backed up toward the door.

“Sam, what the hell is that?” Dean asked, shocked and worried.

“It uh… it looks like an actual dragon,” he replied, more puzzled than anything.

Dean shook his head as that wasn’t what he’d meant, “No, I mean, what the hell is it doing here?” he clarified.

“I don’t know. None of the books said anything about dragons and Pari,” Sam replied, still utterly puzzled.

“How are we supposed to get close enough to wake her up now? She’s been out all day,” Dean spoke his thoughts as he stared at the little purple dragon. It wasn’t hurting you, and it didn’t seem to be aggressive.

Sam’s face contorted as he worked through his thoughts, just as puzzled as Dean, “Just walk over to her, slowly. Try not to look threatening,” he suggested.

Dean looked at his brother, “Seriously?!”

“Yeah. I mean, if what the books said were right, you’re her soulmate. You should be fine,” Sam stated, hoping he was right.

You heard none of this, as you hadn’t quite made it out of your sleep yet. Dean took a deep breath, slowly moving closer to you, his hands up in as non-threatening a way as possible. The little dragon watching him even tilted its head.

“It’s okay, little, uh… thing, I mean, dragon. I just want to wake her up,” Dean told it, trying to act calm.

When Dean got close enough to reach your shoulder, he gingerly reached down to shake you but never took his eyes off the little dragon. Although, the little dragon hadn’t taken its eyes off of him either. It just watched him somewhat curiously. Then, it hopped so that its body was facing him, causing him to jump back a little and take a deep breath.

“You sure it’s not gonna get all violent?” Dean asked his brother, not looking away from it.

Sam had to think, as he really wasn’t sure, “Pretty sure.”

“That doesn’t help,” Dean groaned.

He moved closer again, reaching out to your shoulder, gently shaking you, “Maria, wake up. It’s almost dinner time, and you’ve been asleep all day,” he told you.

You stretched, arms above your head, causing the dragon to open its mouth, almost like it was smiling, and its tail began to wag, its eyes now watching you and not Dean. He shook you again, causing you to finally open your eyes. Before you could say anything, the little dragon came over and began rubbing its head against your cheek, making you giggle, then reach out and give it gentle loves.

“What are you doing here?” you asked it, still groggy. It just made an almost purring sound against you.

“Wait? You know that thing?” Dean asked, more confused than he had been a moment ago.

Another giggle escaped your lips as you scooped up the little dragon and sat up in your bed, “Yeah. I met her in my dream. She’s uh, my familiar,” you explained as the little dragon sat proudly in your lap, looking back and forth at the brothers.

“I need a drink,” Dean grumbled.

“None of the books said anything about a familiar,” Sam stated, staring at the dragon.

“It’s a long story,” you chuckled, “Is there any chance for some coffee, and I’ll tell you about it?”

“Uh, sure,” Sam answered, still fairly confused.

Since your door was open, the moment you went to stand up, the little dragon hopped off your lap and flew out of your room. Both brothers ducked out of the way, even if Dean was nowhere near your door. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Your stay with them was about to get even more interesting than it already had been.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16

Tag List: @djs8891

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

#spn #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural oc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x femaleoc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #soulmates

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weizhiyuan · 11 months

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since I was asked by @envylimes (<3) to share the essay I wrote for a class on not me and how it’s queer I’m posting it here under the read more! it’s like 2.3k words and I just put it as plain text so be prepared to scroll sdkjfhksd

The Thai romance-action drama Not Me, directed by Nuchy Anucha Boonyawatana and starring Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat as White/Black and Off Jumpol Adulkittiporn as Sean, is a terrifically queer series. Even as it belongs to the already queer BL (boys’ love) genre, it stands out due to its attitude towards and display of queerness along with containing a heavily political theme. In this fourteen episode series, the filmmakers manage to cover topics including queer love and community, marriage (in)equality in Thailand, the importance of art, police brutality, anti-capitalism, and how the Thai government and justice system fails certain minority groups. For the sake of simplicity, the focus of this analysis will mainly be on episodes seven and fourteen.

There are four main overarching plots in Not Me. The series opens with an introduction to the twins White and Black (both played by Gun Atthaphan) and soon reveals that Black has been beaten up into a coma. White learns this from their childhood friend Todd (Sing Harit Cheewagaroon), causing him to return from Russia to take his twin’s place and uncover who’s behind the beating. While disguised as Black, White meets the people his brother works with to fight against injustices in society. Sean, Yok, Gram, and Gumpa make up the other characters in this gang. The romance that forms between Sean and White is the other primary plot in Not Me. Following this is the second couple, Yok (played by First Kanaphan Puitrakul) and Dan (played by Fluke Gawin Caskey), who meet while Yok commits arson against Tawi, a major antagonist, as Dan paints political art expressing his frustrations. Later, Yok discovers Dan is also a cop. The fourth main plot has more to do with the political theme of the series. Tawi, as mentioned before, is the major antagonist because of who he is and represents. He is a politician and businessman who has the ability to run the country according to his desires based on his extreme wealth and consequently power. He represents both capitalism and the real life Thai Prime Minister Prayut Chan-o-cha. The gang spends much of their time trying to take him down through different means. In the same strain, Not Me promotes an anti-capitalist, anti-cop ideology. The characters also have a particular involvement with fighting for marriage equality in Thailand, as this is part of the other running theme of the series.

The main goal of Not Me is tied to this last point, to push these anti-capitalist, anti-cop, and equality for everyone beliefs. As the director, Boonyawatana has stated on multiple occasions that she, along with the other writers, use BL series as an opportunity to “express our voice[,] especially all social and political topics that [are] featured in this series.” Not Me also provides an interesting combination of the typical BL tropes within the genre and Boonyawatana’s more surrealist style, which furthers the queerness of the series. As soon as Sean appears, it becomes full of BL clichés; Sean and White stare into each other’s eyes for long periods of time, fighting gets turned into intimate moments, one holds the other’s waist while riding a motorcycle, Sean catches White when he falls, and so on. At the same time, Boonyawatana’s style does not fail to shine through. The almost supernatural connection the twins share, the intimacy of Sean and White’s first sex scene, and dream sequences that make the audience question if it was real are all along her familiar surrealist style. Because Not Me is a BL, and especially because it stars Off Jumpol and Gun Atthaphan (the pair affectionately known together as “OffGun”) who have starred in romantic dramas together several times prior and again subsequently, the target audience is those who watch BL series. It’s common for this audience to be teen girls and women, but within this and outside are many queer viewers. This is a series that would resonate with the audience, as well as work to convince those who do not already share the ideology within the series. It’s important to note that Boonyawatana is a trans woman as well. As a part of the LGBTQ+ community, her perspective on creating this series is intrinsically queer. Since Not Me is a Thai series, the Thai audience would likely have a much better understanding of politics than those who don’t live in Thailand, but it also takes the opportunity to bring these issues to the attention of people who tune in globally. Without a doubt, Not Me makes a statement that it wants lots of people to see.

Episode 7 is by far the strongest in emphasizing marriage equality. White and Gram first attend a protest against Tawi, which includes how his monopolies discriminate and how “women and LGBTQ+ people are underrepresented.” Later, they visit the tents set up nearby and run into their friend Nuch, urging people to sign a petition in support of the same sex marriage law amendment. She tells them, “LGBT folks need to get support from a place full of people. Especially, any event addressing basic human rights and social injustice.” This fits well within the theme of the series. LGBT+ rights are basic human rights, and are connected to the injustices caused by capitalism. Not Me takes this episode as a chance to address the audience as much as it possibly can. Nuch shows White and Gram a QR code they can scan to help support this petition, and through the cinematic eye, the audience can scan that exact tight shot of the QR code and lead themselves to a real petition in support of same sex marriage (support1448.org). Nuch continues talking to the audience through the two, “most people might not think it’s necessary but consider it, you or people around you might be needing this. Have you signed up?” At this moment the viewer would be questioned if they’ve shown their support for marriage equality, and to take the time to do so if they hadn’t already.

The scene that follows is arguably the queerest of the whole series, or perhaps even the whole genre. White stays after the protests for a marriage equality fashion show where (assumably) queer people walk on a giant pride flag runway. As White looks across the crowd he sees Sean from afar, who has visited the scene as well. Together, the crowd lifts the pride flag and White runs under, meeting Sean in the middle. The two hold hands as they chant “Tawi, get out!” and “marriage equality!” It is a crucial scene that both advances the romance between Sean and White as it highlights the importance and beauty of queer love. These characters literally find love as they protest capitalism and heteronormativity. Significantly, the scene was added just three days before shooting as a direct response to the Thai government upholding section 1448 of the constitution, which states that only a man and woman can marry. Boonyawatana explained she was “quite [shocked] with the verdict because the reason made no sense so [she] thought to add…the scene of the mob” and that she was able to contact LGBTQ+ activists that she had spent time with in the past for the sequence. The scene was inspired by true pride events in Thailand where the pride flag was used in a similar way.

In the same episode, Dan and Yok’s relationship develops as the two get to know more about each other. Dan explains to Yok that he wants to “make things better than they are now” when asked why he’s a cop, and Yok, who has seen him paint political art against the government, says, “you can’t do it as a cop, can you?” It is later discovered that Dan had (though horrifically) mistakenly shot Sean’s father who had smuggled drugs for Tawi and got away with it, initiating Sean’s hatred for both Tawi and cops. Despite the trust Yok puts in him to help them fight against Tawi, Dan still eventually betrays the gang due to his faith in the justice system. Not Me is consistent. Upon reflection, none of the plot twists are too surprising. Dan, the “good” cop, shot Sean’s dad and later betrays the gang; Todd, growing more rich and itching to become the next Tawi, put Black into a coma. When Dan betrays Yok and the gang, Yok tells him, “do you still believe in the justice system? You said you’d like to redeem yourself and fix what you did wrong. You didn’t want to be part of the system. Why are you doing this?” Although it is Dan hurting the others, the “you” in this instance may once again refer to the audience, to break whatever faith they had left in the justice system. Dan can only attain redemption and continue his relationship with Yok in episode 14, when he leaves the system and quits being a cop. He must leave, he cannot succeed to help people within the system that is set up to fail those within it. The same goes for White, whose father is a diplomat, who earlier in the series learns of the injustices and decides to fight for their rights instead ignoring the problems in society and going back to his privileged sheltered life before. “Isn’t this obvious?” Sean says when Dan betrays them. And it is.

Another pivotal plot point occurs in episode 14, when the gang are captured by Tawi’s men and put into a van with bags over their heads, intent on making them disappear. Whether they’ll live or die and the question of time passing in the suffocating atmosphere fits Boonyawatana’s style once again. Yok cries for his mother as he imagines she won’t be able to handle his disappearance; Sean laments how painful it is that they’re easily capable of making him and the others disappear; White acknowledges that despite everything, they did not lose. Just as they are about to accept their fate, the van runs into a crowd of people who had learned of this kidnapping. The mob protests and bangs on the van until finally they’re able to free the gang. After the final episode aired, the entire scene was revealed to be based on true events that occurred a little over a year prior, in 2020. Police had taken three protesters who spoke out against the monarchy into a van and arrested them. While a mob formed outside and shouted for the police to set them free, they were still arrested. This was just one part of the 2020-2021 protests against Prayut Chan-o-cha’s rule in Thailand after the military coup in 2014. Not Me was announced at the end of 2020, and aired from late 2021-early 2022. Nowhere in the series does it directly address Prayut Chan-o-cha, likely due to the restrictions against speaking out against the government, but near to everything, even the smaller lines of dialogue, are an extremely thinly veiled allegory–so thin it might as well not exist–towards the current political climate. For example, in episode 6, White and Sean have a small debate on whether risking their life for the cause is worth it, and White uses a “metaphor” involving a pedestrian collision, which again references the real life issue of crosswalk accidents occurring in Thailand. In episode 4, Gumpa asks the gang “is there any issue in our society you’d like to address?” to which Yok, who has a deaf mother, responds, “I want to address disability rights.” While the series does not go into depth about disability injustices in Thailand it does take a moment to acknowledge that there are many issues the country currently faces.

Not Me focuses on community, queer art, and queer love as power against capitalism and military rule. As is typical for many BLs, the characters can all be assumed queer until proven otherwise. Sean & White and Dan & Yok never discuss their sexuality, come out, or have fear that the other would not reciprocate their feelings due to their being a man. Instead, the emphasis is on how they “can still work hand in hand,” something Sean says to White as he literally holds tightly onto White’s hand as they proceed to break into Tawi’s warehouse to expose his drug business. The series features much art as a form of expression as well. Dan paints his true beliefs through his anti-government paintings; Eugene, Black’s ex-girlfriend, performs interpretive dances that critique capitalism; Namo, Sean’s friend, use graffiti to get out her emotions along with Sean; and perhaps most importantly, Yok’s nude art project, in which he draws Dan that causes him to confess, is about proletariat expressionism. The artist behind Yok’s paintings, Oat Montien (who also acts as Yok’s professor), is both queer himself, works on nude portraits, and has described his art as “a love letter to queer people,” has stated that after working with the actors he said, “if this series [becomes] a success please don’t forget to fight for our rights” to which First Kanaphan responded, “I promise I’ll be fighting until you can get married in this country.” Just like Black tells White, and indirectly the audience, in the beginning of the series, “don’t let anyone take advantage of you. If you don’t fight, you’ll never win. Promise me you will fight.”

The series ends with a shared kiss between Sean and White. “This is what we call fulfilled,” Sean tells him. But he isn’t just talking about the kiss nor just towards White. It’s a call to the viewers, that even though the fight isn’t over, Tawi’s second in command has been arrested and Tawi himself is next, that the same thing can happen outside the series in the real world, and that queer love really is fulfilling. As of May 2023, the Move Forward Party, with policies that oppose the military rule, has won in the recent Thai election and its leader, Pita Limjaroenrat may be set as the new Prime Minister. The injustices fought against in Not Me already reflect the current society, but the goal of the characters, filmmakers, cast, and all the real people that inspired or had scenes based off of in this series may hopefully soon become reality.

#I was trying to fit a lot into the limited page length we had to stick to if u couldn’t tell djksjdjd #it was v fun to write & analyze after having some distance and knowing more! + I just got to rewatch not me. that’s a win #not me #not me the series #b.txt #userminty #mint im tagging u cuz I talked abt this w u too dkaksjd #usersufa #n sufa I’m tagging u just cuz u said it would make an amazing paper so here it is !!

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miminmimikyu · 6 months

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All in all, I think The Ichinose Family’s Deadly Sins had a good (i.e. fitting) ending. I don’t think I can picture any way that this story could possibly have ended in reconciliation/a final picture of everyone smiling, especially because one of the people who carries a lot of the blame for this mess is now in no state to apologise for his actions (not that he would, judging by that letter).

So I think the final solution to their problems was probably the healthiest this family could come up with: to keep on living imperfectly, accepting that they’re all shitty in some way (some more than others), and to voice their complaints rather than let them fester inside. In the end it’s still not a great situation (especially for the children) to be in, but it’s so much better than continuing that fake reality or the way they were living before the accident and before Sota left. It’s a very Taizan5 style ending too, which I like.

I’ve enjoyed this manga and I’m glad it ran long enough to get to its resolution, though it’s a shame that the writing and the pacing took such a turn for the worse in the second half. The whole uncertainty of “is this real, is Tsubasa still dreaming” was fun to speculate about but there’s only so long you can keep doing this without having the characters make any real progress with solving the mysteries. I don’t know if Taizan5’s writing style just isn’t suited for long stories or if being a WSJ series automatically puts too many restrictions on the kind of themes Taizan5 usually explores, but it just didn’t quite come together like his previous works did.

anyway, the most unrealistic part of this manga is that Tsubasa and Nakajima are attending school together even though Tsubasa was in a coma for 4 years.

#the ichinose family's deadly sins #the ichinose family’s deadly sins spoilers #this has to be an axe right? but i don't really feel like there's a chunk of the story missing.

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rriavian · 2 months

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Do you consider Morpheus' Corinthian and Daniel's Corinthian two different persons ( i mean nightmares ha ha) playing the same role? To be more clear- do you consider them like Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker and Tom Holland's Peter Parker?Or do you consider them as the uprated version of same software? Like Corinthian 1 is Windows 10 and Corinthian 2 is Windows 11?

I am asking about your interpretation. Not necessarily it has to be based on canon.

PS. Not sure if I should write my own interpretation here. But anyway, I am gonna write it.

For me, Morpheus and Daniel are completely different personifications. Like- yes they are both doctors/pilots/teachers/bankers-whatever really. But they are different persons. Doing the same job doesn’t make them the same person.

On the other hand, My understanding of Corinthian is completely opposite of "Dream 1 and Dream 2". No matter how different Corinthian and Remade Corinthian are- they are the " same personification" to me. It's like same person getting a second chance to life after coming back from coma state. I am personally not too eager to use "Cori 1 Cori 2". For me, they are both the same " Cori".

Sorry for my English if it's too incoherent.

Oh you love to make me think don’t you! I think my interpretation is still in flux; I’ve not read the comics, or seen a lot of super spoiler-y panels bar a few of the big ones, and the show is also still quite far off this storyline.

I suppose the truth is that the existence of the second Corinthian is a narrative element I struggle with, because to me it’s not very satisfying. I enjoyed how the show handled Dream making Gault a dream, because it was very clearly a cosmetic change, but with the Corinthian it feels like it would be a lot more. The idea of recreating isn’t an easy one (doesn’t feel like a great match for the themes of the story either), as it just seems like a very simplistic way to get a character to change without them actually growing. And this change is entirely against the characters will/doesn’t even involve the Corinthian doing anything at all.

Which is quite chilling given how his rebellion was very much a quest for agency.

The idea of the Corinthian rebelling, spending 100 years sticking to his choices, and then being unmade only to be recreated with everything suddenly being fine, with all the reasons he had to do what he did seemingly gone/resolved, just doesn’t feel very satisfying to me.

I’m still holding off on a full judgement until I’ve reached that point in the narrative, but there has to be some trajectory for me to really get on board. What did Dream alter in that moment of recreation? If it’s a new character with the old one’s face/name/memories but apparently none of their motivations then why should I care? And if there was a reason for not just making a completely new character as Dream’s second attempt at a masterpiece then what was that reason because I’d love to know what that is!

It’s probably because I’m not there yet in the story, but right now I don’t see it, and so I’m not sold on it.

Perhaps everything was somehow resolved while the Corinthian was unmade. Perhaps all he needed was a really good nap. Perhaps he got therapy while chilling as a skull. Joking aside—and finally looping round to actually answering your question—I think there has to be continuity between the first and second Corinthian because, unlike Dream, he’s not really the combination of two distinct identities. Well, in a way he could be, Dream not so much remaking him as giving him something more, not cutting out but adding a balancing factor. Upgrading the software to use your turn of phrase :)

I think that’s the interpretation I go with in Transmutation, and that fic was essentially me exploring what the complexity of identity could mean. It’s the interpretation I go to for Dream as well. Also—just to reference a spoiler I have seen from the comics—the panel of the second Corinthian choking Loki out when looking for Daniel?

Listen: that’s the same nightmare for sure.

#the corinthian #the sandman #rria answers #the sandman spoilers #sandman comic spoilers #sorry for the delay!#working through my asks :)#this has been in draft for a while

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months

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Static - a Magnus Archives AU

In the aftermath of Mike's well-meaning attack, Jon tries (again) to resume a normal life.

Thoughts of Basira get in the way.

And then, so does Jonah Magnus.

Another one.

Part of the Magnus Monsterverse.

AO3

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

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Martin said, holding me tight.

He didn’t say it to me. He said it to our resident sociopath, who stood by the door looking slightly guiltily over the fact that he didn’t feel slightly guilty, and shrugged. “Well, we had to be sure, didn’t we?” said Mike. “It wasn’t personal.”

“It was very personal!” Martin snapped, because once he got angry, he didn’t come back down for a while.

Was I all right? Was I not all right? I had no idea. I hadn’t parsed it all yet, but whether I was fine or not, I didn’t want to damage what Martin had built. “It… it’s fine. I understand,” I said into his shoulder, hoping to calm the waves.

Instead, it seemed I’d agitated them. “You’re not doing that again,” said Martin.

“What? Doing what?”

“And I’m not letting it happen, either. This isn’t like before! This isn’t someone getting scared and then treating you like… like garbage! I’m not letting it happen again!”

“Eh?” said Mike pleasantly. “‘Fraid you’ve lost me on this one.”

Martin hadn’t lost me. I suddenly knew what this had triggered.

After Jonah went to jail.

After I survived a coma.

When no one would talk to me beyond graphic and completely unwonted threats, and I’d lost Tim and I’d almost lost Martin, and everyone said everything was my fault, even if I hadn’t even known those things were happening.

I wasn’t even being allowed to grieve my friend because we were still in a state of emergency.

I’d never felt so alone. So hated. And it was for things I couldn’t control, so there was no way to fix them.

So I’d tried to resume my human patterns—and that meant continuing to do the same things I did when everyone saw me as human.

And what had I been doing before? Interviewing people, tracking them down, and taking statements.

We had all done that before. Even Martin. Daisy and I had even forced one at gunpoint, and Basira loved that.

The Institute took statements. That’s literally what they did. And whenever I read or heard one, if the statement-giver were still alive, I entered their dreams—not the outcome I wanted, but an unavoidable side-effect.

It didn’t matter if they were old statements. The result was the same. Basira grabbing old ones did nothing to preserve the statement-givers, so what was the issue here?

Well. Now, I knew that for Basira, it had been her absolute terror that I’d take a statement from her.

She’d never truly given a damn about the people I’d hurt. She’d never given a damn about the people Daisy murdered. She’d never cared about the “someone” Melanie killed, or about the people Lukas had given to the Lonely.

Daisy had even run around murdering people on Jonah’s command while Basira was hostage, and Basira had been fine with that.

She hadn’t given a flying rip how Martin was suffering because trying to interfere with that would have put her on Lukas’ radar—and she didn’t want to get disappeared like Ted and Rebecca from accounting. So, cowardly, she just… ignored the fact that Martin was being gods-damned eaten. It was easier.

If she had actually had a problem with monsters, she wouldn’t have gone repeatedly to Jonah in prison.

To the man whom she knew had damaged Melanie’s mind.

To the man whom she knew had given the Institute to Lukas, losing more innocents.

She went to him anyway, because she wasn’t afraid of his brand of mental power. She knew Jonah was dangerous, but fully believed she could handle him, and nothing he could plant in her head would hurt her.

She was arrogant, as well as cowardly.

Ah, but with me… With me, she felt exposed, all her lies on display. I might see through her nonsense. I might see through her bold claims of magical logic and moral high ground. I scared her—but to admit that I did would be to admit her failings.

And she liked to pretend she had none, didn’t she? She liked the respect that came from being police, and later from being the one who could pass judgment on all us monsters. She liked being the one person “in charge” in the Institute who hadn’t traded her humanity away and so could lord it over all of us.

It wasn’t true. She’d traded hers away years ago, and she feared I would see through all that to the heart of her unbelievable hypocrisy. The thing was, my abilities may have scared her, but she damn well knew I was not going to hit back when she bullied me. That was why I—in the middle of all that craziness—was the ONE person who received her ire.

That was why she had no trouble traveling with me to Ny-Ålesund. That was why she had no trouble letting me take a live statement right in front of her face, because that one was convenient for her, and she knew by that point that she could control me.

By complete contrast, Martin cared I was taking statements because I was taking them from the unwilling, which I had not considered at the time—and he was right. That was why I’d had to stop. He just… hadn’t stuck around to verbalize that, so I didn’t understand.

I didn’t know why, then, I was everyone’s most-hated man for surviving an explosion. For losing my friend. For doing what I’d had to do to stay sane.

I understood it all now. This had to happen. If I had not been isolated the way I was, not been emotionally abused the way I was, I would not have been fragile enough to complete the Web’s plan for me.

But the Mother miscalculated when she allowed Martin to die. The thought had been that once he died, I would break, and be led like a foolish lamb to do what She wanted.

Instead, I finally and at last truly became a monster.

But it seemed I hadn’t been the only person tumbling these things in my head, grimacing at their sourness.

“Jon! Jon!”

Ah… I’d drifted. Or maybe more than drifted.

I was on the floor with no memory of going down, and Martin was—

Martin was over me, cradling my head, dripping tears into my face.

What had I done?

“Jon, please wake up, Jon,” Martin was saying.

Which is now I knew I wasn’t looking at him with my two human eyes. I opened them.

“Oh, thank God,” Martin hitched.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, because it was briefly hard to talk again, because my throat wouldn’t work right. I remembered how to reach up and touch his cheek. “Please don’t cry. Martin, don’t cry.”

He cupped my hand against his face and laughed wetly. “Oh, you idiot,” he said, and clutched me to himself.

To my amazement, Mike had not left. He still stood by the door, looking spooked, but he had not left. He was too concerned about Martin to leave.

Could I blame him? Could I? For all his many flaws, he was worried about Martin, and I… I actually was frightening, these days. No one else had all the marks. No one else had been the antichrist as long as I had. No one else had the particular “eye” powers I did, for whatever reason, or possibly for the reasons above.

And whatever was going on with me becoming both the Lonely and the Spiral and the Vast…

I, too, would do mad things to keep Martin safe from me, were I on the outside. “I understand,” I said to Mike over Martin’s shoulder. “And I forgive you.”

And at those words—

Things… changed.

It wasn’t supposed to do more than build our fractured relationship up a bit. It was supposed to create understanding, to just patch up some of the gaping holes in the pathway between us. Instead, the world shivered on its axis as though Atlas had sneezed.

I felt it.

A second’s worth of something.

Mike stared at me.

Martin… didn’t notice? “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. We pu… I pushed you too soon, and you aren’t ready, and it’s okay, and—”

I cupped Martin’s face again (and I was looking away from Mike but I really was not) and sat halfway up to kiss him. “You didn’t do this. Martin! Martin. This isn’t your fault. I’m still figuring out this balancing act. How to be… what I am without losing myself in it.”

“You just fell over,” he said helplessly.

I saw it in his mind. I had collapsed. There’d been no warning. He was holding me, upset that I was so cold (well the Vast was cold), mad that he’d thought he could trust Mike not to do something weird, worried I’d never accept anyone now, worried I’d become some kind of bizarre Eye-hermit because I feared everybody, worried he wasn’t enough to make me happy, worried I’d slip away and someday never come back—

“Oh, Martin,” I breathed, and kissed him deeply. “The world could end. The stars could burn out and fade. Reality itself could twist into a pretzel, but I am never leaving you again. ”

You know, on reflection, that declaration of mine ought to have been terrifying.

But he heard it the way I meant it: he was never going back to alone in the sea, never having to mourn me again, would never have to say goodbye.

He clutched me like a life raft. Goodness, he was strong.

Mike was still staring.

I’d done something to him. I didn’t know what. I could, but I might lose myself again, and I wouldn’t do that to Martin.

“Tea?” Mike said, and scuttled into the other room.

Whatever monsters we all were, we were also British, and that meant awkward tea and biscuits while we tried to silently sort it out.

I was glued to Martin’s side.

Mike looked almost repentant. It was a start. He also seemed like himself, completely, with one exception: he now spoke to me as if I were his friend.

Casual and open, no longer faking smiles or pretending normalcy. Whatever I had done to him had convinced him he could trust me.

I was very, very unhappy about that, but I had no idea what to do with it, so... for now, I let him talk.

He told me about his job: he was a gods-damned tour-guide.

All right, not quite a tour guide. He did jumping tours, which is to say he’d fly people over the city of their choice, then parachute with them to the ground nearby, all the while describing interesting tidbits of history and trivia.

“People pay for that?” I blurted, because I had no social grace.

Mike told me how much people paid for that.

I looked at Martin. “So it turns out I have always been in the wrong line of work.”

They both laughed.

It wasn't so bad. Mike wasn't actually acting weird; Martin accepted this as normal Mike behavior. Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe he'd just finally accepted me, because I hadn't lashed out when pushed.

Maybe.

At any rate, Mike left late. We'd marathoned the next season of UK's Got Talent, which was, ah, quite different from the one I'd known. This one was all about imitating AI renditions of things, and somehow doing it better. It made me deeply uncomfortable, but Mike loved it, so.

I didn't sleep well. I did, however, insist on going to my interview as planned the next morning.

Martin didn’t want me to; he was worried I’d black out (and so was I, a little), but I told him I needed to do this. Even if I didn’t take the job, I wanted to qualify for it.

I wanted to… have a life. I wanted to not be his life. I wanted to give him room to breathe.

“You’re an idiot,” he said when I phrased this to him, and kissed me flushed and breathless.

Which was a great start to the day—but I still blew the damn interview, anyway.

I hadn’t done this in a long time, and I’d never interviewed well even when I'd been human, so maybe this was not surprising. I’d psyched myself completely up. I'd absorbed everything about the library, and the neighborhood, and any salient facts I thought might bring me favor. I was so ready, damn it.

So ready that I got the most dreaded words at the end of my time: You might be overqualified.

So that wasn’t happening.

How did I do that? I know I wasn’t impressive. I tried to be knowledgeable, and reserved, and respectable, and all the things a librarian ought to be. All I did was answer their questions! And present a degree in library science I didn’t earn! But they wouldn’t know that!

Blast. I felt sure I’d disappointed everybody.

This was why, I recalled now, when Jonah offered me the Archivist promotion, I’d accepted it even though I’d known I wasn’t qualified. I was terrified I’d lose my job if I turned it down—and the agony of job hunting was an awful deterrent.

Gods, I'd been so young. I certainly hadn’t felt young at the time, but I was.

Quiet London (I really needed to stop renaming everything) was, of course, quiet. People walked at pace, hither, thither, and yon, in silence; businesses flourished or struggled with nary a peep of music or voices escaping their workplaces; cars rolled by without more sound than the occasional crunch of tires.

I felt awful, returning to the Compound (which they did not call it, and I needed to say The Salt Flats like the rest of them because they’d picked the name and it was sort of funny, but damn it all, I just couldn’t). I wanted to apologize. To Jane and to Mike. They’d gotten me the interview. Obtained paperwork for me so it would be legal. And I blew it.

I sighed. Well. The situation wasn’t that different from post-uni, honestly. If my grandmother hadn’t passed when she did, and her house hadn’t sold for the amount it did, I could never have survived long enough to get the job at the Magnus Institute.

All of that sounds horrible and heartless, and I would never tell anyone I’d thought it. I missed my grandmother, sort of. I didn’t really know her. She… didn’t come from a generation of people who shared how they felt.

I’m grateful for her. She cared for me when she didn’t have to, and I know I was a difficult child.

( You were on the spectrum! the Eye informs me with a sort of nerdy glee.)

“Yes, I’d figured that out,” I muttered. “Only about eight hundred years ago. ”

( Appropriate techniques for aiding a child with a tendency toward hyperfixation and overstimulation include—)

“Not now, please,” I said. “I’m really not in a good mood, and I don’t want to think about my childhood.”

So instead, It gave me the spin-off movie from Brother Love, called Cloistered: The Sister Swap.

It was the goofiest, stupidest thing I could imagine in all my life, involving Christmas, a woman from “the city” (unspecified) with a high-powered career, untenable stress, and a twin sister nun, and the one brother in the cloisters who had not found love with his fellow gents.

The sisters traded places and the nun ended up married to the monk on a farm in Canada.

You know what? Why not? This pablum was harmless. And if this ridiculous romantic blarney was enough to give some people joy in their lives, who was I to complain? I could just let people enjoy things. What a concept!

Besides, it was sort of fascinating.

I was still smiling about it as I opened Martin’s door.

He was on the little couch, sound asleep. His phone sat beside him where it had fallen from his hand, currently following the travails of a kitten foster parent somewhere in Cork.

He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I stood in the doorway like a nonce for a full minute before realizing I ought to shut it and come inside.

He didn’t wake.

Of course, I peeked. Yes, Martin was fine; he was just very, very tired. He had not told me he’d been awake most of the night because he had to keep checking if I still breathed (Martin! For heaven’s sake), but I knew now.

Naughty. We’d have to talk about it.

(Wondrous. Had anyone ever worried about me like that, ever in my life?)

I crept into his second room to acquire some unnecessary yet deeply needful stress-snacks.

Martin was an excellent baker. He’d converted his flat’s second room into a wild little space for his online baking show (the idea for which he’d gotten from some alternate him Maneula had shown him), and while his show wasn’t as successful as his counterpart’s (“He wears lipstick!” Martin told me with fascination), it paid enough that he could do his part-time job at the London Aquarium without worrying about bills.

All this to say that the light switch wasn’t ordinary, and flipping it on meant blinding white light aimed at the tiny, adorable kitchen set-up against the wall.

I blinked, my many eyes watering, and made my way toward the tiny storage area where he’d put last night’s cupcakes. They were chocolate and heavily indulgent. I was going to eat a lot of them. Stuff my face. Try to enter a sugar coma, if I could.

Behind me came a sound of static.

I spun.

There wasn’t even anything here that could make that sound—that very specific older-television sound, which only occurred while there had been both analog broadcasting and analog televisions which, by accident, picked up literal radiation left over from the Big Bang, translated to microwaves and white noise.

I frowned at his kitchen setup. There was nothing. Well, as anyone would guess, the moment I turned around, it would happen again, so I turned around.

The static started. And I opened all my eyes.

There was a—

Jonah Magnus.

But not the one currently in Sasha’s hospital bed. No. This wasn’t the one from my world, either, when I’d taken Jonah’s mind and devoured him. This one was about forty, still sort of twinkishly pretty, but his blond hair had picked up some fetching white, and he was dressed in a purple, embroidered Heathcliff vest with a floppy tie of some sort. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows; sweat had drooped his insouciant little curls, and he bore a cut on one cheek that looked quite fresh.

“There!” he said. “Wait—blast, that’s not the right—”

Static sound. He disappeared.

“What the actual hell?” I declared, and approached the space where it had been.

Where it now reappeared.

Static. In the air. In a circle, like an old television in the shape of a round mirror. “There!” said new-Jonah again. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s the wrong—”

Gone.

The Eye was silent. No, not silent; yearning. The way one might miss an ex.

The way I’d once missed Georgie.

“What?” I whispered.

Static. Fuzzy circle, static, a random dot-pixel pattern like before that HBO symbol of ages past. New-Jonah again. “—end yours, too! You’ve got to stop him! I know it isn’t working, Barnabas, don’t be an a—”

Gone.

And I knew it wasn’t coming back this time because the Eye resumed its new absurdity, offering to show me all the hand-made goods fans had created in honor of Brother Love.

I left the cupcakes where they were and joined Martin on the sofa. He was still asleep.

( Yes, I checked, and he was fine.)

Right, so. Whatever had just happened… I was the only person who knew about it. Of that, I was sure.

I needed to know more. Needed.

The Eye wanted to show me, but… I could feel how weighty it was, how much, and if just recalling Basira from the old days had been enough to knock me out, I knew I wasn’t ready for this.

Damn it. I could finally see the benefit of having a double. They could channel their power together. They could share the strain, spread the load.

Michael and Helen were manageable here because they had each other.

The two Nolans literally spent evenings burning one another (gross!) and loving every second, keeping themselves sated.

The Georgies had a horrifying ritual where they would nearly drown one another, once a month. It worked for them. (I… I could never.)

I had no one to talk to like that. No other-me to share the load.

Gerry! chirped the Eye.

“None of them are here, you goon,” I muttered.

Gerry! Gerry! Gerry!

Gods, what had I done to this thing? Taken an impossible eternal fear entity and turned It into a blasted puppy, chewing on furniture and getting excited over things that bounce.

No, I knew that wasn’t true. To anyone but me, It was still what It was: a being of invasion, of flash-paper privacy, of paranoia and being watched and being followed and exposed.

It just… happened to love me. I highly doubted I deserved it. This was just… this was so much time spent. Necessary bedfellows. Which was a terrifying concept; what if it could It be lured away from me by someone who might use It for evil?

Use It for… what the bloody hell was I thinking?

I laughed, and Martin finally woke up. “Hm?” he said with a sleepy smile. “That’s a good sound to hear. Did it go well?”

“No, it did not,” I said, still amused at my completely insane thought of the evil fear god being used for evil. Good lord. “I’m fairly sure I won’t get it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “What has you laughing, then?”

I tried to tell him. Big evil fear gods being used for evil like in a cartoon, as opposed to us, who absolutely only used them for good things, like draining the terror out of felons.

Some context was obviously missing, but he laughed anyway. “The way your mind works,” he said with such warmth. “Did you want some comfort-cakes?”

“I would die for some comfort-cakes,” I said.

“Stay.” He headed into his second room.

I hadn’t told him about the static. Why hadn’t I told him about the static?

I would. I just… I needed to parse it a bit more, and… and…

I feared he might say something like, this is too much for you, and bring other people in.

Worse, I feared he might be right to do that.

What I needed was a way to get to all three Gerry Keays and have a chat. That’s what I needed.

Portals! the Eye said. It wanted to teach me.

Only if Manuela won’t know, I said back.

Martin brought chocolate cupcakes and milk, and I put all the other thoughts aside for a bit.

Whatever the hell was going on, I would deal with it. I would understand it, and stop it if it was bad. But I couldn’t escape the feeling I’d had the moment I’d seen New-Jonah, shouting. That man had been trying to warn me of something.

Every instinct I had said this Jonah was not an enemy.

I hated it. I pushed against it. I challenged it.

I couldn’t discard it.

That Jonah had been different. I didn’t know why, and trying to push into that knowledge led to dizziness, so I stopped.

One thing at a time, Jon. And one of those things was not making the mistake of failing to trust my partner.

“I love you,” I said to Martin, and told him what had happened.

#tma #tma au #tma spoilers #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonathan sims #the archivist #jarchivist #magnus monsterverse #martin blackwood #mike crew #jonah magnus

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judasofsuburbia · 1 year

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a lil excerpt from a wip i'll be posting here in the next few days!!

March 30th, 1986

When Steve arrives in this dream, he’s almost certain it’s a nightmare. He’s in the Upside Down a couple of feet away from where Eddie Munson took his last breath. Only, he’s not there.

Steve hears soft guitar strums and mumbling. He turns his head to see Eddie sitting on a nearby park bench with his guitar. He looks gruff and dirty like they left him but he’s not bloody anymore. He’s completely mobile too as he bounces his head and moves his deft fingers up and down the neck of his sweetheart.

He keeps strumming the wrong chord and cursing to himself before starting the verse over. Steve is trying to wake himself up before he sees Eddie with his eyes sucked out or his limbs snapped like twigs. Or something worse entirely, because Vecna is really good at making any horrors a reality.

Eddie looks up and smiles widely. “Harrington! What are you doing here?”

Steve can feel the tears before he registers what’s happening. Just hearing his voice washes him with a wave of guilt. He looks up at the dark blue, foggy sky and prays for the nightmare to hurry up already because he needs to go. Like now.

“Are you crying? What’s got you so blue?” Eddie asks with a soft tone. He pats the spot next to him on the grubby bench. “Wanna tell Dr. Munson?”

Steve swallows his underlying fear and walks across the veiny ground, no longer worried about waking anyone up. He sits next to Eddie who is looking at him so friendly and so silly and god, it fucking hurts. It’s so fucking mean for Vecna to do this to him.

“Woman troubles, perhaps?” Eddie asks in a faux professional tone. He holds out his hands like he’s writing down in a notebook.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs.

“Oof, that sounds worse than woman troubles. What kind of demons does Harrington battle on a day-to-day basis?” Eddie places his guitar on his lap and gives Steve his full attention.

“Besides the regular ones?” Steve jokes with a humorless tone.

“Besides those, yeah,” Eddie smiles. God, why is he so smiley?

“You’re dead, dude,” Steve states. “It fucking sucks.”

Eddie tilts his head and his smile fades. “I’m dead?”

Okay, so the nightmare is explaining Eddie’s death to him. Well damn, Vecna, that’s pretty fucking creative. Your nightmare writer’s room knows exactly what they’re doing. Steve closes his eyes and swallows the dusty air. It burns his throat but not as much as his next words are going to.

“Uh, yeah. The demo bats got you. Worse than they got me. A whole swarm of them. You distracted them from going after us. Pulled your little cutesy hero stunt and inadvertently saved us all.”

Eddie huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, that can't be me. I’m no hero, Harrington.”

“Oh, but you are. Even after you promised me you wouldn’t be. Kept Dustin safe, kept him alive, but shit dude, he still found you. Held you until your last words.”

Eddie shoves his shoulder. “Hey, man, that’s not funny.”

“No, the fuck it’s not,” Steve snaps. Eddie flinches and Steve slumps back into the seat. “Found Dustin that way. He clung to you and he screamed at me to carry you out of here even though you were absolutely 100% gone. I don’t know if that little shrimp will ever forgive me. The only thing that made him move was the fact that Max got hurt.”

“Max got hurt?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve nods. “She’s in a coma now. Vecna got her with the limbs and almost the eyes. They don’t know when or if she will wake up.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve flashes him a look. “Are you apologizing for dying right now? Are you really doing that?”

Eddie lets out a frustrated laugh. “What else am I supposed to say?”

Steve exhales and picks at his nails. “I don’t know.”

They sit in wallowing silence for a few moments. The Upside Down is eerily quiet now. Maybe this is how it is when there are no intruders. No one to snap in half. No one to possess. Steve hates that it’s almost peaceful. If only there will sunlight and no particles floating in the air. The veiny surfaces are also a little unnerving. Someone should hire a decorator or something.

“A decorator,” Eddie giggles. “That’s a good one, Harrington.”

Steve stammers. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Eddie shrugs. “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, y’know?”

Steve takes the time to wipe the appropriate tears before gesturing to Eddie’s guitar. “What were you working on before I got here?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” Eddie admits with a helpless look at his guitar. “Some song that keeps playing really softly in the distance.”

“Play it for me?” Steve requests with a kind smile.

Eddie picks his guitar back up and plucks out the first few notes. It sounds familiar. Sounds…festive?

“That’s all I can figure out,” Eddie says.

“Do it again?”

“Are you sure this is a real song?” Eddie jokes.

“I think so. Try it again.”

Eddie does. The same rhythm. Steve hums along. He motions with his hands for Eddie to play it again.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas, without you. I’ll be so blue just thinkin’ about you.” Steve sings quietly. He gasps and points excitedly at the guitar. “It’s Elvis Presley! It’s Blue Christmas!”

Eddie plays it one more time and his face brightens up despite the hellish environment they’re existing in. Steve reckons Eddie’s the brightest thing down here right now. “You’re telling me I’m strumming a Christmas song in March?

“Maybe Vecna’s a real Elvis girl,” Steve says while Eddie groans.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get struck down for that.”

“I mean no offense,” Steve raises his hands and talks up to the sky. “Elvis is a pretty cool guy. Just…you know he has other songs, right?”

“You’re a little early, Vecna, my guy,” Eddie shouts in the same direction. No lightning or a league of shadows and bats swarm them while they’re giggling to themselves.

“One of the better Christmas songs, I’d argue,” Steve says.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Why? It’s sad as hell.”

“No, no. It’s romantic. It’s about long-lost love. Wanting to hold the one you love during Christmas.”

“But not getting to. Hence why it’s a blue Christmas.”

Steve considers this but makes a disagreeing noise. “Still romantic. Hopeless but romantic.”

Eddie nudges Steve’s shoulder with his own. “You’re a sweet guy, huh?”

“I don’t know. The jury’s still out I think, considering this is where karma has led me.”

Eddie looks around and shakes his head. Drums his fingers on the body of his guitar.

Steve doesn’t want to ask this. He knows, okay he knows, this is just a dream (or an upcoming nightmare). Something that’s made to feel real but isn’t. Still, he asks, “Are you actually alive?”

Eddie glances up at him. His big, brown eyes are shimmering with naive, joyful hope. “You tell me, big boy.”

#emily writes #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fics

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