#maely writes

"But," you add quickly, hoping to move on from Isabeau's discovery and Odile's ire, "I found a good place to rest for the night." You gesture to the plain in front of you. “It’s plain to see.” 

Summary:

Hope, Natsume has learned, is an infectious sort of emotion. It lingers in the back of his mind and in the depths of his chest, stubborn in ways he doesn’t know himself to be. The times he assumes it has long gone, that surely after this, there must be nothing of it left in him, he will see a mother holding the hand of her child, friends laughing in the summer sun, youkai doing small favors for each other, and suddenly that hope never left him to begin with. To him, that is what has kept him going all these years, from family to family. The little flame of hope that infests him. The belief that there is a future for someone like him, so estranged from human and spirit alike, torn in two.

Relationships:

Madara "Nyanko-sensei" & Natsume Takashi

Summary:

Today I went back to the post canon secretive plotter pov fic about the dynamic him and the 999 rounds have with 15yr dokja. This convo in particular is part of one of the last convos for it, since i have a bad habit of writing things in reverse chronological order. It’s definitely my favorite bit of writing i’ve had for a while though, mainly the last 2 lines bc like,, i know i wrote it but oof my heart.

“Shouldn’t I- shouldn’t I go back?”

“To where?” Secretive Plotter snaps, surprising even himself with the force behind his tone.

Dokja flinches, fingers playing with the fabric of his sleeves. “To the subway station. It’s been- it’s been really nice staying here with everyone but-”

“But what? Do you want to go back to being the Most Ancient Dream?”

“No!” This time, both parties flinch at the vehement tone. Dokja, his back ramrod straight, looks even more terrified that the sound had come from him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled - I’m sorry but- but I don’t want to go back.”

Secretive Plotter fights to keep his voice even, soft even. He imagines himself trying to tempt a small animal forward. “So why do you think you should?”

“Well…I’ve gotten enough- right? Everyone has been so kind- but that’s not how things are meant to be. I’m supposed to be there, thinking- dreaming about this story. That’s why he’s hurting. He must be there now, becoming…something.”

Secretive Plotter doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know what he could say. He wonders if this is what that other Dokja's- Kim Dokja's companions felt like, watching him hurl himself into death for their sake.

Somehow encouraged by the silence, Dokja explains, “He had so many people who loved him. They protected him. Shouldn’t he go back to them? It’s not- it isn’t right for me to be too greedy. I have enough good memories now- I’m happy enough for them to last.”

“What are you talking about?” Secretive Plotter spits, his entire body tensing. After everything, all the memories he’d caught glimpses of, the clear signs of abuse that mark Dokja’s every step, the emptiness in his eyes while sitting at that subway station. And he wants to go back? How long has he been weighing his happiness on a scale, waiting for the other side to drop so he would break even?

finally i have something published for orv! it may have taken months but hopefully its worth it. has post epilogue spoilers so be warned

Dokja buries his face between his knees again, mumbling under his breath, "Why couldn't I have just loved something normal? If I was a good person, then maybe things would be better." 

“You were not wrong,” Secretive Plotter repeats. If he keeps doing it, maybe Dokja will actually listen. 

“You can’t say that- out of everyone- you can’t say that,” Dokja shakes his head furiously, the motion obscured by his knees. “From the minute I started dreaming, you were there. You were there and you were suffering because I loved it. I loved watching you go through that. We both know it’s true. So what if I was in pain? So what if I just wanted to live on? If I- if I had known what would have happened, then I never would have read Ways of Survival.” Dokja chuckles, the desolate sound tapering off into a sigh. “Who am I kidding- I would have still read it. I would have read it no matter what. After that first chapter I…” 

Dokja surges forward to grab Secretive Plotter’s collar, and even as grizzled as he is, Secretive Plotter flinches at the unexpected action. Tear tracks glisten in the flecks of moonlight illuminating the room as Dokja’s face twists. The hands bunching up the fabric of his shirt shake in a weak attempt to rock Secretive Plotter back and forth. 

“You- why can’t you hate me? You should hate me for what I did to you. All of you should. But instead you keep giving me all this hope and kindness like you actually care about me or something!” 

“Because we do. We all decided to live with you for a reason, or do you think we’re all fools who can’t discern their own desires?” Secretive Plotter asks, and something on Dokja’s face breaks down further. 

“...Yor?” She freezes, almost killing him as a gut reaction as her heart drops itself to the pits of her stomach. Forget being seen- her whole identity has been compromised. What is she going do with Anya? What is she going to do with herself? Flee to a foreign country? But she doesn’t know any other languages, she’ll be screwed. What would her excuse to Yuri even be?

“Um,” the man beneath her coughs. Yor somehow feels her heart sink even lower. Maybe it’s beating somewhere around her toes, because while she had been reminded of Yuri when the man first walked in, face to face…

“Yor, Sis, if that really is you, then it’s me, Yuri”

Yor leaps halfway across the room in an instant. That was his voice alright. How could she not recognize it? Even through the vent- that was her one and only brother. But as the officer stands, taking off his hat entirely, Yor inhales sharply. Her weapons are left on the floor clattering as she rushes back over. Without thinking, she takes his cheeks in her hands as she examines his neck. She pales at the thin trails of blood she finds there.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I? I’m really sorry- I wouldn’t have...have…” Killed you, Yor wants to say- but she’d been about to, hadn’t she? Worse than that, this means that Yuri…

“You’re an SSS officer?” Yor snaps.

Yuri freezes under her glare, reverting back to the same kid who tried to filch extra sweets every now and again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you,” Yuri mutters, entirely abashed, before he blinks, looking back at Yor in equal confusion. “But sis, why are you…” His face darkens. “Why are you here? Where did you- you kill people?”

Summary: Joonghyuk wakes up without Dokja. That in itself is not alarming, although the spike of panic that shoots through him would love to argue that point. His half of the bed still holds traces of warmth. Dokja must have woken up not too long ago, unusual for the man who normally has to be rudely shaken until he deigns it time to get out of bed. 

He wanders out to find out why his husband has left him so early in the morning, and gets his answer in the form of Dokja sprawled on the couch, towel draped over his eyes.

Or: Joonghyuk wakes up to an empty bed, and sets out to find his husband. An early morning heart to heart ensues.

Relationships: Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja & Yoo Joonghyuk