luna !!

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐒𝐡𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sakamaki Shu x GN!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: All you wanted was to fly like a bird, but now you're stuck in his cage. (Yandere!Shu x reader relationship headcanons)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,784

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you for requesting, anon! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ I hope you like it!

This got delayed because of Alhaitham, come on everyone beat him up (╬ಠ益ಠ)

Alhaitham's osananajimi : (1) (2)

pairing: alhaitham x reader

content: suicidal themes, heavily implied reader suicide, angst, reader is an akademiya scholar, alhaitham character study, 2nd person pov, no use of y/n, no beta we die like a character's happiness when i write them

summary: When you pass, Alhaitham wanders through your legacy. He's born and bred a scholar, so he does what he does best: figuring things out. It's all he can do now that your place in his home is empty.

wc: 1.32k

notes at the end

The morn has come, bringing mourning bells tolling in the sky. Alhaitham is more of a ghost than you in this horrible dawn. If he were any worse at figuring you out, he’d bet you wouldn’t have expected that. There’s another gamble for comfort he knows won’t end well in his mailbox:

Alhaitham,

Your request for leave has been approved. We at the Akademiya know how hard it is to lose a distinguished scholar and loved one, especially when it seems too early. The Haravatat and your colleagues send condolences for your loss.

Sincerely,

Azar, Grand Sage of the Akademiya

The letter follows him inside, carrying all the fleas and sickness a stray dog would. A stranger’s shoes lay on the floor and wait to be worn. Alhaitham rips his gaze past it. He carries on through the foyer to set out on his familiar little journey for misery. Today, the smell of it is everywhere; today, he cannot find what he is looking for.

An armchair comes to bear the weight of the coat he sheds. The impression of wasted hours on the couch turns him away. He looks to the dining table, where a cup of coffee has not yet been put away, even as dust has begun to gather in a thin film over it. Alhaitham remembers asking you early on, half empty or half full? You had laughed out an answer, then spun away to wash the cup and yourself away.

But what does he know? For sure, it wasn’t without regrets. He thinks of the night you received your vision. You had been working on your first paper when it settled on the stormed-through desk, a suggestion of spring, before you had grasped it and hurled the thing across the room. The edges weren’t dull. As Alhaitham cleaned up your hand afterward, he chewed himself up over the fling of your fingers and your long, rattling sigh when you returned to your work. He’s not particularly faithful himself, but he was never angry like you. Perhaps he’ll learn.

A few days later, your darshan had begun singing your praises. You’d smiled. It was hard to mistake and harder to return, but no matter the difficulty of treasuring, some things are still worth keeping.

Alhaitham goes to the bookshelf. He runs his fingers over the rows of annotated and dogeared tomes, where this sickness is not named but ever-present. It’s all Vahumana material, and he remembers discussing the intersection between your and his studies many times—in other words, this should not be trash to him.

He begins unshelving and piling on the coffee table, where book after book he looks through the marks you left and decides there is nothing of value in this one, or that one, or any one of these useless things until he stops looking altogether. All he sees is history, yes, someone like you is a history he’s seen repeat endlessly. Transient and brilliant. He always thought you’d die young.

Like a pillar tumbling down, Alhaitham collapses on an armchair. He steeples his fingers, then presses them together, dragging the cold fingertips across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He can’t help but wonder why him. When you are this sick, Alhaitham is not a doctor in any way that matters. He knows very well that it is impossible to save everyone, but the idea that not everyone can be saved—well, he can almost hear someone saying he should’ve tried harder. The more logical part of him laments that it wouldn’t have mattered. Not if you looked at him that night and said, I’m not you, and this is simple aetiology.

Alhaitham has a tendency of only exerting an exact amount of effort for any task at hand. In knowing you, this philosophy has come to bear a flaw, for to love is to never be enough. Perhaps it would have been better to be an ignorant man, or anything that wouldn’t have been powerless at the sight of you hurtling through life. Alhaitham knows you wouldn’t have listened, not to him; he knows there is nothing to say if he is not a fool.

Another one of his beliefs has come to fruition in validity: the recognition of talent is a heavyhanded burden when only adopted through the eyes of others, rather than realized through self-actualization. You’re a victim of this, yet Alhaitham cannot fault you for cowardice, not if you had disregarded praise for a legacy you called an “obligation”. It would be nothing short of nonsensical to deny you the title of genius. That makes you shortsighted, and thus, Alhaitham has arrived at an answer regarding your madness.

He rises, fingers looping around the neck of an empty, knocked over glass on the table. The residue of wine glistens on lacquered wood in the half light of the blinded window. It had accompanied the dinner from the night before you died, the leftovers of which are still wrapped up somewhere. It’ll mold, and he’ll let it.

Before he can think of cleaning up and moving on, Alhaitham sees a stray paper sticking out of one of the books. You take care of your materials, so he’s sure it isn’t a ripped page. He sets the glass down, then picks the book up—Scroll of Streaming Song. Out falls a letter.

Dear Alhaitham,

You’re not the type to rifle through my things, so if you find this, it’s probably because you need to figure out what to do with what I left behind. I’ll keep it short because I know you’re a concise man.

The closer I grow to you, the more I am sure we are not in the same realm of talent. Indeed, our worlds are entirely divorced and I wish it were otherwise because for you, I want to see. But you must understand that this has become my life’s work. I am nothing if not a shame, the forever stunted prodigy who has fallen into irrelevance. So be it. I’ll make it into art that even you will cry for.

With all the love I have, goodbye.

The paper crumples as Alhaitham leans his head on his clenched hands. He has to wonder, did you know that even your competition in the Vahumana called you the darshans future? And because that might not move you, he wonders what you knew of Alhaitham’s version of that truth. A wave of nausea rises over him, washing those dreams away.

There is another explanation, but it is more like an addendum. Many times have you broached the topic of a beautiful tragedy with him. Maybe you resonated with the idea more closely than Alhaitham thought. Like a fool, you swallowed yourself whole with open eyes, all while writing down every detail in fervent desperation. It was like religion. It was like academia: a fruitless martyrdom.

Life imitates art and forgets that consequences will be made real. But alas, there is no cure for a fallacy born of yearning. It’ll spread and take down every parallel soul of yours wandering the midnight oil with absent eyes. Alhaitham understands, it’s what you would’ve wanted. All you’ve ever wanted was to stave off this horrible loneliness, and you made sure he had nothing to do with that lofty dream. You’ve poured the glass empty to draw a picture in the stain without enjoying the drink.

Well. If you insist on sacrificing yourself in the temple of academia, then Alhaitham will help you in the only way he can now. There’s a sting gathering in his eyes as he carries your murderer piece by piece. As the fireplace takes his revenge, he cries for you.

On the second day, another letter from the Akademiya arrives to request that your research material be turned over to your darshan immediately. Alhaithams response is just as short as their first message: “I burned it all.”

academia does not define you. you have value simply by existing, and this value cannot be changed by a system and upbringing centered around it that promotes relentless, cutthroat competition and borderline hatred for yourself and your peers. the point of the glass is that there is something in it for you to enjoy

⤷ 13 | Where to sit?

prev.  ᨳଓ  masterlist.  ᨳଓ  next. 

SYNOPSIS: You're a famous faceless webcomic artist online. After an argument in some unnamed comment section when you were younger, you gained yourself a hater who loves to annoy you over every little thing you do. Neither of you seem to be able to agree on anything, and every day you realize that he does this intentionally to be a shithead. You didn't know that this mysterious hater was closer than you might think.

A/N: khaos u freak

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Taglist: @junoms @lunavixia @memreniee @aloudice @yany4n1 @shadowofthesun7 @jpsg-6 @sunphais @t0r4s @axkushvii @milklise @cl0udii-m00n @kangyeonie @r4yyyyy @violetisreadinghush @kik1k0 @khoiyyu @sinbehavior @overall-mamori @mwzuuu @sunsethw4 @philesora @socyx @traumatized-luna @rioceanid  @aries-afk @starwardjourneying @kuromiiiiifrv @firefliesoul-owo @astro-oo0 @blueberrybxba @phainonconsumer @skylermiller1  @misipp @kumiluvvsu @tamashithe2nd @aurxvyn @dollfies-angel @victoria1676 @ynnarin @dreamyhazx @milkuu333 @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog @maggiforlifesstuff @celesteelysia @kaoiyeva @sunnyskies0602 @kala-aiya    ࣪ ִֶָ☽.

BAT-HAPPY FATHER’S DAY

Age-reversed Damian, Tim, Jason, Dick.

009. master baiter

EIGHT | masterlist | ten

synopsis: after treacherous pursuit of admission into the prestigous akademiya and a fulfilling summer break, you find yourself determined for university, brimming with curious anticipation. yet the simple sight of your ex-situationship is enough to reawaken your stress. it isn't until a fellow student of few words approaches you with a proposal—one that oddly resembles a job application, that you figure out a solution.

contents: alhaitham x gn!reader, fake dating, modern uni au

taglist: @ezr4n, @yuzurins (shout out to yumi for making me write this :>), @raphsimp, @entries-by-eri, @fuhrasloves, @iloveshin0mitsu, @mooniebbs, @tecchouss, @meowieees, @lalalaloveallmydays, @vvidka, @abyislan08, @ddurandals, @anqelkoz, @silvermah, @tridentgumfreshy, @kangyeonie, @backgroundcharactera, @ichorstsinedskin, @reveriesinterlude

this was based off the argenti's first meeting with the astral express!! so this idea was pretty old heh,,, im lowk surprised i had time to make comics :<<< although it's short, i hope yall enjoyed it :>>>