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robertfettuccine · 27 days

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My Post-May the Fourth Bad Batch Thoughts

there's lots of 'em

[spoilers]

To start off, I was So excited for the finale I stayed up to watch it when it came out (1am in my time zone) and idk it didn’t feel worth it to do that during finals week after watching the ep

Maybe I had too high expectations but I figured that to wrap up the entire show we’d at least get an hour? Maybe more? I was hoping for something like the s1 premiere but no 51 minutes and you suffer.

Ok I've decided to put my thoughts into 15 minute increments for Organization Purposes

Part One thoughts:

Ok so right away I feel the "wrecker is gonna die" vibes. "Can you make it?" "Try and stop me." It feels very final it feels like he won't. I def thought my first time around that he wasn't gonna make it

The way Hemlock holds that gloved hand... I thought surely that had to be important somehow. I've been wondering about it since he was introduced.

Echo looks like handsome squidward sorry

The way Omega rewires the droid.. Tech. But the way she starts giving orders to the rest of the kids is so Hunter. She really is her fathers' (plural) daughter.

Sidenote the way her theme combines with a light, string-heavy version of the Bad Batch theme while she and the kids are getting ready to leave the vault... mmmm me when music

Ok back to the Batch and ough.. Wrecker is seriously hurt this had me so nervous they're out of med patches I thought for Sure he was gone

Imagine you're in the military and you get sent to some super secret boring base and your whole job is to stand around and guard a submerged lizard (?) and you're already confused and over it and then you find a bunch of kids in your walls???

WOw this is really minor but the cut from the kids and the Zillo to Echo and Emerie at 9:46 felt Really awkward. That's all.

the HAND thing again what is With that Hemlock??

Wrecker again with the Dying

REX MENTION!!!!! WTF IS A BAD HELMET PAINT JOB

"Clone Force 99 died with Tech" what a great line. If only it carried emotional weight within the rest of the story. If only the character's actions made that make sense. Hmm.

"If we all go in, we're not all making it out" see this is why I thought I was getting rogue one'd

"Omega needs you both" is sweet and cool, but she doesn't. She's proved this whole season that she's competent on her own. Idk.

Plan 99 namedrop? Also crosshair's self hatred and guilt is so devastating he's constantly trying to atone and it's so.....

Tech namedrop????? And for WHAT??????????

nOO that stormtrooper.. they done squished his ass

Jax is afraid of heights! Just like Wrecker!! Good character moment for everybody.

Part 1 TLDR: The first third of this episode was full of contrast, which was super interesting to watch. Omega and the kids are doing great, the lighting on them is generally softer and.. idk, lighter. They get hopeful music and they succeed. The Batch on the other hand..... everything is so ominous. It feels like somebody's gonna die (and it feels like it's Wrecker). My main gripes: some of the jump cuts feel like the episode was hastily stitched together and they don't make sense, I don't really know what to do with that knowledge. The Plan 99 conversation didn't make any sense within the context of this season (I'll elaborate later). Positives: Omega is really winning this ep, you can see all of her brothers in her and it's beautiful. What they've done with her theme in the music I Love. That moment with Omega and Jax when he says he's afraid of heights is really sweet.

Part Two Thoughts:

Ok starting off strong, Scorch questioning his orders for a bit? He's going to lose brothers? The door closes before we can hear what he says over the comm? I really thought maybe Scorch redemption.

Ok Hemlock is activating the CXs. There's four of them.

They all have different armor.. and different body types.. very similar to the batch....... hmmmmmmm

CX-2!! *clown noises*

Ok close up on the same CXs from before. One of them uses blades. One has.. sci-fi brass knuckles? CX-2 is there. This feels like Evil Bad Batch.

THE CLOSE UP ON CX-2 SPECIFICALLY WHY IS HE IMPORTANT

wrecker dying again uhnnnnnnhnhhhhhhhhhh

The brass knuckles CX just grabbed a panel of Something and used it as a shield. That's Plan 82. That's Wrecker's job.

WHY IS THERE ONE WITH GOGGLES JUST LIKE TECH'S? WHY

Goggles clone duel wields sword-vibroblades. ?

The one with the staff.. Hunter?

Ok Vibro-Sword CX, why toss the Sword to CX-2 so he can cut off Crosshair's hand? Why not just do it yourself? Those things have enough reach that he could have sliced it off himself.

The way CX-2 talks is Just like Crosshair. The inflections are exactly the same.

Ok I get Hemlock's a sadist but why keep the Batch alive at all? Seems like that's more dangerous than experimenting on them is productive

Echo and Omega's reunion is lovely. "Hey kid. And... other kids." he's doing amazing

Using the Chief Scientist's datapad just like last time Omega escaped... nice.

Hemlock's hand again.

Ok so crosshair just gets a hand stump and we move on?? This whole scene felt weird and out of place to me but Especially that.

Yeah!! Clone rebellion. Echo is Fives if he won (and had no melanin)

Maybe Electrostaff CX is Wrecker? He seems taller and has a wider build.

But nvm Brass Knuckles CX plays wrecker's part in the batch and Electrostaff doesn't

GOGGLES AGAIN WITH THE SWORDS?? WhY isn't CX-2 fighting with the rest why is he with Hemlock why does he stand out so much WHY

"My work will always be Kaminoan" yeah Nala Se isn't redeemed for me she's still a supremacist and a eugenicist and she and Rampart both deserved what they got. Satisfying ending for them both though.

Part 2 TLDR: This part had a ton of potential. There were a lot of suspenseful and mysterious shots. The story started getting more intense, even though the kids escaped successfully. There was weight there, and as an audience we could tell how much was on the line. I loved watching this part. My main gripes: Honestly none with this part alone. All of it felt pretty in-character, it had depth, it had weight, and it had meaning in the story. It makes less sense when we get to Part 3 though. Positives: I absolutely loved watching this part of the ep. It had me on the edge of my seat trying to figure out just what was going on with the CXs and who wasn't going to make it out. Giving Echo the chance to continue his brother's mission and free the clones was great. Nala Se and Rampart both got a fitting end, I was very satisfied with that as well.

Part Three Thoughts:

Wrecker is fighting Staff Guy (possibly Evil Wrecker) oh that would've been so cool

And they just STABBED HIM?? JUST LIKE THAT?? What was with the focus on CX-2 throughout the ENTIRE SEASON when he literally Didn't Matter At All???

We're not even gonna talk about the hand then huh. Ok.

Closeup of the Goggles Helmet?? What was the purpose. What was it.

And then they have SOmeone pick up the sword and helmet all ominously and then it's just some guy. We see his face. It kinda looks too small for his body. Like bad photoshop

Ok so echo doesn't have lungs? or like..

There is Such a focus on the Goggles. Like we were never supposed to see his face. Like it was maybe supposed to be suspenseful.

Ok why so ominous if Wrecker is just gonna shove his face into a wall instantly? Why all the suspense and cool shots?

When CX-2's ship blew up I thought for sure it was from Rex or Phee's ship. But no. (can regular DC-15s even Do that?)

HNNNNNHG wet hair Hunter

SCORCH?? Ok so he could have been some random guy and it wouldn't have made a difference. What was the purpose. Why did he have a name? Why bring in a Legends character just to get rid of him in the most anticlimactic way possible?

Hemlock threatening Omega literally doesn't make any sense? It carries Zero weight. Omega even brings it up and Hemlock doesn't respond. Because it doesn't make sense for his character. Why.

Nice little callback with Crosshair's shoulder rest

Crosshair shooting Omega's binders off should be a tense moment but it's not. There's nothing at stake here. We know he won't shoot Omega. What am I supposed to be feeling?

Ok seeing Hemlock just get absolutely Pelted was nice

She hugged Crosshair first. Maybe we can start resolving some of his guilt. If we actually took time to show characters processing their emotions.

We're Still not talking about the hand? That feels notable, is that just me???

Ok and everyone just.. leaves. We just leave. It's done? Where was the climax supposed to be genuine question

Ok so we're namedropping now. Project Stardust with a nice subtle imperial march in the background. Okay?

We are back on Pabu now. The clone kids are there. The clones are there. The kids are there. Emerie is there. Everybody's happy.

Where is Phee?

Echo's ending is actually fine. I went into this ep the first time thinking for Sure he was going to die. Instead he's doing what Fives died trying to do. He's the last Domino but he doesn't have to fall and I think that's ok. But why isn't he with Rex in Rebels?

"With Hemlock gone, and his data destroyed, they're finally safe" - M. Night Shyamalan in the ATLA movie because we must Tell our audience Everything. Seriously why are we telling the audience something they can see? Why does Omega say that out loud? Nobody would say that. It's obvious. That line was just SO out of place

No real goodbyes for Echo though? No sweet character moments? No reactions from anyone?

Nice clones theme though. Fives would be proud.

All the dialogue between Omega and Hunter in this final scene just feels so.. off. Lazy. Show us what's going on, don't tell.

Why do Crosshair and Wrecker feel like such an afterthought here? Why is it so Awkward? Why were they over saying goodbye to Echo and Omega and Hunter weren't? It feels like they weren't supposed to make it out. It feels weird. It feels forced.

Part 3 TLDR: This was the part of the ep that just fell flat for me. It had some cool moments, but it felt really rushed and poorly thought out. It feels very out of place with the previous 30mins. It almost feels to me like it was rewritten, although I may just be delusional. My main gripes: This part of the ep should have had the big emotional moments and also wrapped up all the loose ends introduced in the rest of the season. It did none of that for me. Why cut off Crosshair's hand to have none of the characters really acknowledge his sacrifice? That isn't a resolution to his arc. None of the Things that happened to the Batch this season were processed at all, and everyone except Hunter and Omega was pretty much sidelined towards the end. CX-2, who was built up all season, died in a super unsatisfying way. The dialogue and staging of that final scene felt super off. The cavalry never arrived. Positives: As always, the Kiners killed it. The music was great. I love a happy ending, that rarely happens in Star Wars and I would've absolutely eaten it up under the right circumstances. Watching Hemlock finally get it was super satisfying. Echo's ending as a continuation of the Domino Squad's quest for clone individuality was really fitting actually. That One shot of Tantiss... glorious.

Epilogue Thoughts:

The way the city is set up on Pabu makes it look just like Tantiss in the overhead shot.

Aww the red bandana in Omega's hair

Hunter aged much better than Rex.

"We want to keep you safe" "You're our kid Omega" OK WHERE IS THE WE? WHERE IS THE OUR????

Ha she's taller than him short king Hunter wins

"Keep an eye on Wrecker and Crosshair" you're not gonna say bye? They aren't gonna see you off?? No way Wrecker would be ok with that

The GOGGLES :((((

Omega's lil salute like Tech in S2E4 Faster my heart

Where are Crosshair and Wrecker in the epilogue. It feels like a weird choice to leave them out. They're just as much her dads as Hunter is.

Epilogue TLDR: Honestly I liked that this was their ending. Finally, some Star Wars characters can have peace. With that said, My main gripes: significant lack of Crosshair and Wrecker, who absolutely wouldn't have let omega leave without saying goodbye. Similarly, lack of Phee, who seemed to be becoming a mother figure to Omega. I can't imagine she wouldn't have seen her daughter off. Positives: old Hunter. We don't get to see that many clones age, and Rebels animation, as much as I love it, just didn't quite do it justice. It was great to see some characters get to actually live out full (ish) lives at peace. Also older Omega's character design was peak.

Oooookay so this ended up being a Lot longer than I intended it to be when I started writing it but I just had a lot of thoughts on the finale and needed to put them somewhere. I loved the experience of being a part of the Bad Batch fandom from start to finish, and I made some great memories for sure. While the finale wasn't necessarily what I was hoping for from this show, I loved being delusional with everybody. Plus, this isn't the end. (we know they won't give up the clone wars animation style it makes them too much money)

#star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #my post #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #sorry for the actual very long hyperfixation ramblings #this was Not my intention but here we are

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pink-strawberry-kissess · 19 days

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aeon twins to the rescue - idea i wanna work with maybe

one of ada's long lost loose ends has finally come home to roost. she'd thought that long ago she had burned all necessary bridges so that they could have a family together. she didn't expect a decade to pass and for a target to land onto the little two girls that have nearly identical faces to hers

when ada leaves, leon's furious, of course. but he knows that she would never leave their girls unless it was absolutely necessary.

the girls are still teenagers, but barely. but mature beyond their years. they needed to be to understand the world that their parents worked in and the world they currently live in

at first, leon throws himself into his own work. semi retired means he still comes into important missions but he mostly delegates for the time being.

every day the girls wait for their mom to return, and the only signal they have of her still being on this earth is sent to them in the form of two dozen roses. one dozen for each one (ada sends info to leon in another way but i haven't thought about it yet lol)

the colours change depending on the duration of time she'll be away. one of the girls finds comfort in the roses, she finds them to be the only connection she has to her mother. the other hates the scent of the roses, it's the reminder that their mother has left them again

they're "old" enough now, and with the training they've gotten, they can fight off whoever is after their mom.

another set of bouquets are sent to their home. this time another shade indicating that she'll be gone for a month.

when that month ends, the roses had already been aged and brown. they expect another, they always expect another.

but when 2 weeks pass and no new set of roses are sent, leon takes them on a short trip away. just for the time being. they have little resistance to it, they just want to be out of the house so they don't have constant lingering reminders that their mother is missing

they barely have any time to register it - when they arrive to a remote cabin they've never seen before. leon unpacks their bags, gives them both a kiss on their forehead. then a hug that lingers before a familiar face appears.

they see helena for only brief seconds until they realize that their father have left them there so he can find their mother

they're angry, furious of course. they don't need a babysitter, especially not the one who literally baby sat them when they were kids. now what are they supposed to do with both of their parents missing?

leon sends word a week in, letting them know that he's halfway around the world now. and still on the lookout for their mom.

helena's not too worried, though she can't quite hide the expression on her face changing as the days pass. another week moves along and the persistent feeling of dread grows tenfold when they can no longer reach leon.

it's stupid. they know it's stupid. but they're not going to lose their parents because of them.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #ada wong #aeon #leon x ada #leon kennedy x ada wong #aeon twins #aeon twins au #helena harper

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mika080 · 5 months

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GaaSaku FF.NET 2023 Yearly Wrap Up

List of Fanfiction COMPLETED in 2023, on Fanfiction.net.

[I'm trying something here. Tell me if you like.💞]

Delicate by Distant Voice - [New Era] When what had started for her as an unsuspecting friendship quickly turned into a secret scandalous affair with the last person she had in mind, Sakura finally realized that her marriage to Sasuke had already gone to Hell even before her morals did. GaaSaku.

A One Month Bet by Olly BaaBaa-Chan - AU Shippuden-era story. Sakura is sent to Suna to train the medical team, but the Kazekage is skeptical, to say the least. Can Sakura complete her mission with dignity, or will she lose this bet? Rated M for a variety of reasons. Come for the smut, stay for the decently crafted plotline. GaaxSaku

SasuHina: Beyond The Camera by Hina5enpai - COMPLETE WITH COMPLETE SEQUEL! Debuting as a 4-person idol group, Hinata, Sakura, Sasuke, and Gaara have high hopes and big dreams. Their success seems imminent, but here's the problem: it's against their contracts to date those signed to the same label. Do they risk it for a chance at love or ignore their growing feelings for one another? Endgame: SasuHina/GaaSaku/NejiTen/InoSai

Beyond The Camera: The Sequel by Hina5enpai - Direct Sequel! Two things threaten to ruin the little slice of heaven Hinata has found: Arranged marriage and blackmail. Now she has a choice: Either give up everything to protect her loved ones or fight and risk ruining their lives, too. (More serious than the first fic, but it WILL have a happy ending!) Endgame: SasuHina/GaaSaku/NejiTen/InoSai COMPLETE!

Broom Closet Diplomacy by Avium - The first time Haruno Sakura manhandled the Fifth Kazekage into the nearest broom closet, she almost caused an international incident. Or: How Sakura chipped away at the Kazekage's self-control, one broom closet at a time.

Book One: The Wedding Date by XxwithxoutaxwordxX - Sakura Haruno had a big problem. A problem that involved fancy invitation cards, white doves, and wedding bells. And it was all her little sister's fault. How could Hinata be marrying before her? And worse. What could possibly be worse? A mother that would never let her live her single or common life down. And the groom, Sakura's Ex-Fiancé.

Memories Of The Blossom Heart by LoveAnime5891 - Three months later after the war ended, everything became peaceful again in the world, even discovering Katsumi's true identity. Though, Gaara and the others were quite devastated when they've learned about Sakura's amnesia. What would it take for them to bring all of her memories back? Will she remember her past love or her true love where her heart truly belongs to?

The Kazekage and Her by letstrythis4 - Sakura is in Suna to help with some poisoned civilians, but the Gaara she spends time with isn't the same as the boy she met at the Chunin exams years ago. She plans to keep her feelings to herself... Until Gaara confronts her. (GaaSaku) - A little thing I had laying about from years ago

Birthday Buffet by KagamiPINKAgreste - GaaSaku want Lee to stop training for today and just relax. It's completely their treat after all.

Love's Legacy by dasl.hk - When his jealousy became the very thing that ruined his relationship, he could only watch as she marries another. To what end does loyalty and service must go on to make sure the village prosper?

#GaaSaku #fic recs #ff.net #2023 #year wrap up #first time i'm doing this #just trying it out #might lead to more

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ash-and-books · 3 months

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Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb: A skeptic and a supernatural being make a crossroads deal to achieve their own ends only to get more than they bargained for in this lively young adult romantic adventure from the New York Times bestselling author of Spell Bound and So This Is Ever After.

Seventeen-year-old Ellery is a non-believer in a region where people swear the supernatural is real. Sure, they’ve been stuck in a five-year winter, but there’s got to be a scientific explanation. If goddesses were real, they wouldn’t abandon their charges like this, leaving farmers like Ellery’s family to scrape by.

Knox is a familiar from the Other World, a magical assistant sent to help humans who have made crossroads bargains. But it’s been years since he heard from his queen, and Knox is getting nervous about what he might find once he returns home. When the crossroads demons come to collect Knox, he panics and runs. A chance encounter down an alley finds Ellery coming to Knox’s rescue, successfully fending off his would-be abductors.

Ellery can’t quite believe what they’ve seen. And they definitely don’t believe the nonsense this unnervingly attractive guy spews about his paranormal origins. But Knox needs to make a deal with a human who can tether him to this realm, and Ellery needs to figure out how to stop this winter to help their family. Once their bargain is struck, there’s no backing out, and the growing connection between the two might just change everything.

Review:

A skeptic and a supernatural make a crossroads deal only they find themselves getting more than they could have ever bargained for, from falling in love, running from supernatural shades, trying to find a Goddess, and learning to enjoy the little moments. This was a touch of Hades and Persephone with a bit of Orpheus's story all mixed in with queer teen modern day romance in the best way possible. Ellery is a seventeen year old non-believer in a place where people believe the supernatural are real. Ellery gave up believing in the Goddess after they've been stuck in a five-year winter that has destroyed and ruined so much, particularly impacting their own family. Ellery works day and night to just make ends meet to send money to their family while living with their cousin and their cousin's girlfriend. Knox is a familiar from the Other World, a magical assistant sent to help humans who have made crossroads bargains. It's been years since Knox heard from his queen and after his last deal resulted in his charge creating the elixir of life and then being promptly taken... Knox ran away with the elixir in a panic and runs into Ellery in an alley. Ellery rescues Knox from the shades who wanted to abduct him and when Knox reveals who he truly is to Ellery they enter into a bargain: Knox will help Ellery find a way to end the winter and help them find a way to contact his queen (the very same Goddess in charge of the seasons and crops that abandoned Ellery) if he can and in exchange Ellery will become Knox's new tether to the human world as he needs a tether to work his magic. Knox begins living with Ellery and her cousin and for the first time he begins to actually experience life, having lived vicariously through tv shows and movies all his life he finally gets a chance to just be a teen. Knox's condition means anytime he returns to the Other World he loses his memory of the human one. The more time Knox spends with Ellery the more romance begins to bloom... yet when the truth of what is causing the winter reveals itself and the shades chasing after the elixir of life and Knox finally catch up... can Ellery save Knox before he is lost to them permanently? This was a magical and fun time, I loved the romance and the friendships in this story so much. It' was a really sweet read and I loved how everything wrapped up in the end. The story was a fun time and the characters were all well fleshed out. It's honestly a quick and easy read and you find yourself zooming through it to see how it all ends. I would absolutely recommend this for anyone looking for a magical queer read with a fun cast of characters and a modern day magical world and romance!

*Thanks Netgalley and Simon and Schuster Children's Publishing, Margaret K. McElderry Books for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #book #lgbtq reads #queer reads #queer hades x persephone #queer orpheus #otherworldly

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hisuianhellion · 6 months

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I Finally Chose Violence

SO. TO JUST PUT IT INTO PERSPECTIVE. Some major shit went down here. Three bandit sisters took the NON-heir brother of a Noble's ACTUAL heir. The Noble was dead, had it happen a few years prior, and the heir hadn't taken their place. The sisters, in their INFINITE FUCKING WISDOM, took the WRONG BROTHER to try and make a Noble outta him. Why? Ain't got a clue. Maybe to force a ransom payment or prove their way was better.

One problem: they took my Luxray, too, using a Gengar's bullshit shadow traveling shit.

Below is a play-by-play of what the fuck went down when I showed the fuck up.

I showed up. What I saw was Lucien (my Luxray, for context) putting himself in front of the Growlithe they stole and the Miss Fortune trio. He was not letting them get an inch closer, and I'm pretty sure when the middle sister got too close, he nearly took her arm off. He bit down, made eye contact, held her there, and let go. He didn't Crunch. He didn't use Fire Fang. He was making sure she knew he held back there, and I could not be prouder at him proving he is The Goodest Boy.

They did not take kindly to this, and sent out THREE POKEMON AT ONCE to try and take him down for DAAAAARING to attack them. So I turned things on them. I sent out both Nanami, my Samurott, and Barry, my Sylveon. Nanami backed Lucien up, while Barry? Oh I let him have some fun.

Barry went straight for the oldest sister there. He latched right onto her leg with his ribbons and started TUGGING. And the moment her Gengar came out? Shadow Ball To Their Face. That little genius knew the Gengar was a major threat, and I knew the exact one to send out to bait their defense.

See, they're used to the Security Corps. They use their Pokemon in a similar way to normal Survey Corps folk, and tend to follow strict regimens and rules. Exploitable ones. Ones these sisters liked to play around to fuck with them and get away with their schemes. Nah, fam. I don't play by the fucking rules.

The youngest sister ended up charging me directly after her Abomasnow got knocked out clean, but she was the only one not being handled. Thankfully, I had been brushing up on a few... SKILLS by proxy of dealing with Kamado. She wasn't expecting me to body-check her head-on. And I might've bruised more than her ego. Her nose was blooooody when she landed on her back.

To put it simply? Shit went very south very quickly for them. Because they weren't expecting someone capable of smoothly commanding three Pokemon at once while literally cracking someone's face with my shoulder, cane in the way.

So. Three sisters, all losing both Pokemon battles and actual brawls. They're all flailing madly. They're all rapidly regretting their choices. And it's at this point that I think, alright. They've had enough punishment. We don't need to do permanent damage. I've made my point, and I call back my trio. Instantly, they listen, and they're right behind me, glaring down these three. One's scuffed along the front, one's got a bite mark on her arm, one's got a broken nose. They're a bit nonplussed.

So I make an ultimatum. Give back the pup. Or they go straight back to Jubilife and I get a fucking explanation for things, pronto. They effectively go rabid with rage at that suggestion, popping Revives into their Pokemon's mouths, getting ready to fight just as dirty as I had.

This is when the two wardens of this area, Palina and Iscan, show up with Irina, the Pearl Clan leader. They've brought the smaller Growlithe, the ACTUAL heir. And when he sees what's going on... he charges.

I could see the desperation on his face. He saw three angry people with four angry Pokemon trying to take his brother away from him again. I'm also pretty sure all of us heard a howl come from the peak of the mountain, too, because I think something snapped in him. Not only did the light of evolution cross by his body... it was MATCHED with LIGHTNING FROM THE FUCKING SKY. Yellow, tingling lightning that literally made all of our ears RING.

What came out... was the BIGGEST. FUCKING. DOG. I HAD EVER SEEN. That thing was apparently an Arcanine, and he was AT LEAST the size of a whole ass SHED. And he was PISSED. Needless to say, even myself and my Pokemon were a little nonplussed and shocked by this, so the Miss Fortunes used that chance to flee using their Gengar again.

Which left us with a giant, pissed off, frenzied Arcanine Noble.

I was literally only here for a ghost sighting.

... needless to say, I had two Water types, though. Ones a lot more experienced in battle than a flailing pup-turned-monster...

........ it really didn't take very long, I'm gonna be blunt. But once he calmed down, hey! He wasn't a Gigantic Behemoth of a Doggo anymore. Just one that was actually close to my own height. And a lot more like his meek self from before. Lovable li'l flufferpup just got a glow-up. Literally.

#pokemon roleplay #pokemon rp #pokemon irl #rotomblr #rotumblr #rosy ramblings

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ibrithir-was-here · 2 years

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Further Endless Heirs AU ideas (part 1)

Gonna tag @somebodyssherlock-heterodyne and @themirokai cuz you guys have been so fun to share this particular AU with :)

I toyed with turning this into a fic but I don't think i have the energy right now for two fics at once, and I wanted to share these ideas anyway so they didnt just sit rattling around gathering dust.

So I talked before about Daniel getting captured, and the adverse effects that would have on him and Wish due to their shared hearts

And here's the rough wider story I've built around it since then. Daniel, some time in his early thirties, (a little while after he and Wish have made contact with Destruction), wakes up one day in a strange twisting labyrinth, no idea how he got there, no idea how to get out, and worst off, apparently no connection with the Dreaming. Whenever he goes to sleep he doesn't dream, just wakes back up in the labyrinth in a new area.

He's stuck there for an unknown amount of time. He's immortal enough that he won't die of starvation but it's not pleasent, and he's entirely alone. He tries to keep up his strength and spirits, knowing his family must be looking for him, but each dsy that passes without rescue wears at him a little bit more, slowly breaking down his spirits--and worse, apparently his physical form as well. Wherever he is its doing something to him, making him go odd and fuzzy at the edges.

But finally, things change one day when he finally stumbles into what appears to be the heart of the Labyrinth, and meets a very scared and confused young teen named Suzanna Holland.

Suz has no idea how she got here either, the last thing she remembers is getting sick and being taken to a hospital, and then she woke up here, wherever here is.

After determining Suz, as she's called, isn't dangerous, the two bond as they try to find their way out of the Labyrinth, learning about eachother as there's nothing to do but talk.

Suz learns about Daniel and the Dreaming, and is hopeful that someone will come for him and so save her too. She doesn't have any family left that she knows of. Her mother had been part of a magical practitioners community that had gotten into some dark stuff, and Suz had left home to get away from it, and her mother hadn't bothered to try and come after her. She doesn't know who her father was and her mother hadn't gotten along with her own parents, so Suz doesn't know them either. But Daniel's family seems to care about him, surely they'll find him soon...

But the days go by, and no one comes, and Daniel starts to get worse and worse. Finally, he determines that their only chance is to try and see if maybe he can push through whatever is blocking his connection to the Dreaming, by joining his power with the little magic Suz might have, and see if he can get her to sleep and enter the Dreaming if he can't, and contact someone. So they try--and Suz disappears completely. Leaving Daniel all alone once more.

Suz however, appears in the Dreaming, and the first perosn she meets is Matthew, who once he hears that Daniel hs sent her quickly takes her to Dream--who can tell instantly that Suz isn't in the Dreaming bodily, it's only her sleeping form that is here. Which means that her body is still somewhere out there, asleep.

Which freaks Suz out, as she was sure she was physically there with Daniel in the Labyrinth, it felt so real...

And the Dreaming family, which has been searching for Daniel in the Waking for weeks, wondering why they're unable to find his mind in the Dreaming, starts to realize just what his captors have done.

They've used Daniel'a own powers against him, pulled on his own abilities and trapped his mind within a miniature Dreaming of his own unconscious making. And the longer he's there the more real it becomes, and the more he loses hope of being found, the more that his never being found becomes a Reality as well, blocking him from being found by his family by magical means, creating a self fulfilling prophecy.

And the more Daniel loses hope, the more he starts to lose himself....

And this breaking of his heart and self is echoing back into Wish, who's already desperate to try and find Their cousin and best friend, who's been missing for months now. They're becoming colder, sharper, more reminsicent of how Desire was before Them, willing to do whatever They need to to get what They want, to find Daniel...

Including making a deal with a certain young demoness They've never cared for. A wish of her choosing, to be fulfilled whenever she might ask, in return for reigning down vengance on Daniel's captors. For if Wish can't find them, They can make sure that they have a Hell of a time waiting for them in the end.

Eventually, the Dreaming family is able to help Suz remember more about what had happened to her before she fell ill. People who had found her, who had said they were taking her to hospital, strange things she had thought were dreams when she'd 'slept' in the Labyrinth which she now realizes were actually small flashes of wakefulness.

And with these, they're able to finally pin point where the people who've taken Daniel might be, who've been using Suz's latent magical abilities to cover up Daniel's magical signature as well as boost their spell with her own life force.

The full force of Daniel's family comes raining down on the captors, though their mastermind and one of his main henchman manage to escape beforehand. They find Suz's body, deep in a coma, hooked up to a multitide of medical equity that's apparently keeping her alive. The captors who are left have used magic to keep themselves from answering any of the questions put to them...and so they get to truly know the terrors that Nightmare's can hold...

Daniel, despite his rescue from the dream catcher Labyrinth, isn't doing well, in mind or body. Though Dream wants to keep him to heal in the Dreaming and Lyta understandable wants him in the Waking with her, both end up agreeing that with the nature of his Heart the best thing may actually be to let him spend his convalescence with Wish, who's more then happy to care for Their cousin, and furious with Themself for not finding him before he got to this state. Promising that They'll never let anyone hurt him like this ever again, no matter what...

Their renewed proximity does seem to help Daniel somewhat, as well as calming Wish's intensity down (though simply having Daniel back is a main factor in that, shared hearts aside), but there's still much healing needed.

Suz is still in a coma, though her dreaming mind is happy to find a welcoming new family in the Dreaming, Matthew especially seems to have taken a shine to her, watching over her like she's a new born chick. But her mortal body, watched over in the Waking by the grateful Walkers and Lyta, isn't doing so well...

And the mastermind who orchestrated Daniel's capture, for reasons yet unexplained, is still out there...

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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 2 years

Text

The Jedi Are Dead (Star Wars Rebels x Male!Reader)

Main Masterlist

I'm fascinated by the idea of a jedi who's lost their path after order 66. Not necessarily one who turns to the dark side but one who leaves behind all parts of the jedi code and their past life as a keeper of the peace. They've become attached and refuse to lose everything like hey once did.

Also Bolt isn't an OC, he's an actual clone trooper I found from a clone wars comic🙃(Ben is because I'm lazy and it literally means son)

Word count: 1.9k

You lost so much when the republic fell.

The clone wars took so much from you, so many of your friends and even your master but order 66 took everything else away. You lost everything, you home, your family, the order and your purpose. You were forced into hiding. You had to create a whole new life after the fall of the republic. You had to remake everything, from a house to a living but you found someone to do it with.

You had a husband, a son, even a pet tooka, you'd moved on from your past life. Both you and your husband.

At least you thought so, after all you had a young son to protect now but with the rise of the rebellion and the broadcast a rebel named Ezra Bridger transmitted all across the galaxy you found yourself back in the fight (although in very small ways). That is until an unknown ship landed outside your farm.

"Papa! Buir!(father) Someone's here! There's a ship outside!" Your son, Ben yelled as he ran into the house. You looked at your husband worriedly before you both grabbed a weapon. He took a shovel and you took one of two blasters you had hidden in the house.

You quietly opened the door, aiming the blaster towards the ship as your husband hid Ben behind him. "Stay behind us Ben" He said as you got ready to shoot.

The ship's ramp lowered and you watched carefully to see who walked off.

They didn't look emperial to you but you couldn't take risks.

A green twi'lek walked out of the ship with her hands in the air.

"We come in peace" She said as she was followed by three Humans and a Lasat.

"Who are you?" You questioned them, never moving your blaster.

"Fulcrum sent us" She said and you looked at her confused then at your husband. It was his change in expression that worried you.

"Bolt, do you know these people?" You asked your husband and he nodded.

"They're the delivery guys I told you about" He said, lowering his shovel and you sighed, finally putting down your blaster.

"When you said delivery guys I expected someone with a speeder not an armed freighter" You complained as you relaxed a bit. Bolt for his part seemed sheepish at the missing information.

"Well I didn't exactly know what was coming" He said and you shook your head, you weren't mad at your husband but you were slightly disappointed.

The crew of the freighter looked at each other confused.

"So are we in the right place or not?" The youngest human asked and you felt something at the edge of your senses, something about him and someone else in the group.

"You're in the right place. My name is Bolt" Your husband said, he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and on Ben's head. The little six year old was poking his head out from behind you curiously.

"This is my husband Y/N and our son Ben" He introduced and you nodded in greeting.

"Sorry about the blaster" He said and the Twi'lek in charge nodded.

"It's fine, you can never be too careful. I'm Hera, these are Kanan, Ezra, Sabine and Zeb" She said, introducing the crew behind her.

"You're a clone" The Lasat said and you stood protectively in front of your husband. "You got a problem with that?" You asked, you wouldn't allow anyone to disrespect your husband. You'd met after the war, both of you were fugitive's of the empire and he helped you understand and come to terms with what happened all that time ago. You couldn't imagine not having him with you.

"No, no, I just..." He trailed off.

"Come inside" Bolt said, he was always better with strangers than you.

You took Ben and let Bolt welcome your unexpected guests, going to prepare a pot of tea.

"Papa, who are the aruetiise?" (outsiders) Ben asked and you smiled at him.

"Their friends of your buir" You told him softly. Bolt has been mixing Mando'a into his speech for as long as you knew him so it was natural for your son to do the same. You even learned it yourself after spending so much time with him.

"But you almost shot them" He said and you laughed, he was perceptive that's for sure. It's gotten him in trouble plenty of times before.

"I've never met them before, you know we can't be too careful. Now how about you go outside and pick some herbs for the tea okay?" You asked him and he nodded, running outside to the herb garden.

---

The Ghost crew sat around the small living room, there were a few pillows but most of the space was taken up by toys.

"Sorry about the mess, it's hard to get kids to clean up after themselves" Bolt said and Hera lightly glared at Ezra.

"Don't worry about it, I know how you feel" She said and Ezra looked offended for a moment before he moved on.

"So you three live out here alone?" He asked and Bolt nodded, his greying hair was still in the regulation cut only his hairline had receded quite a bit.

"It's safe, far from the empire or any other dangers" He answered.

Kanan felt uneasy, his time with rex had helped him get over his dislike of clones somewhat but it was still there and something was off about this house.

"We're just here to pick up the data chips, no need to intrude on your home" He said but Bolt dismissed him.

"Nonsense, you came all the way here and we're happy to host you for dinner" He said though Kanan wasn't sure if you would agree.

Something was off about you and he didn't like it.

"You speak Mando'a" Sabine said, changing the subject and Bolt smiled.

"Yes, I am technically a mandalorian of clan Fett, and I see you are as well" He said and Sabine nodded.

"Of clan Wren" She said.

"An ijaat at urcir gar sabine be clan wren" (An honor to meet you Sabine of clan Wren) Bolt said, grasping Sabine's arm in his.

Ezra looked over at Kanan in confusion.

"It's a mandalorian thing I think" Kanan told his padawan.

By that time you'd walked in with a tray of tea. Kanan recognized the smell and looked at you suspiciously.

"I hope you like tea, it's my own special recipe" You explained as you set the tray on the ground between everyone and sat beside your husband.

"Where's ben?" He asked you and you pointed down the hall.

"I sent him to his room, there's no reason for him to be here for this" You said and took a cup of tea.

"You seem pretty protective of him" Kanan pointed out and you nodded.

"He's my son. I would do anything to keep him safe" You told him as he too took a cup of tea.

"Ugh, Kanan this is just like the stuff you used to make" Zeb said and Sabine scolded him for his lack of manners.

"You're a fan of tea Kanan?" You asked surprised. It took you longer than you'd have liked to connect the dots.

"I used to have it a lot as a kid" He said and you nodded.

"As did I" You said and Ezra looked between you and his master. He picked up something was off but he wasn't sure what.

"Bolt told us a bit about himself, what about you Y/N?" Ezra asked, he wanted to know why you and Kanan seemed to be at odds.

"Are you also Mandalorian?" He asked and you shook your head.

"I'm from Arkanis originally" You said before shifting the conversation.

"But what about you? You're quite the interesting crew, a Twi'lek, a Mandalorian, a Lasat and two jedi" You said and you immediately saw Kanan and Ezra shift defensively. The rest of the Ghost crew looked at you in shock.

"Well it takes one to know one" Kanan said, glaring at you.

"Wait, you're a jedi too?!" Ezra asked and you looked down into your tea.

"Not anymore. The jedi are dead" You said and glared back at Kanan.

"You should take what you need and go, it's dangerous for so many force sensitives to be together. They'll sense us" You warned. Bolt took your hand.

"We'll be fine cyar'ika, don't you worry" He said and kissed your palm.

"I'm going to check on Ben" You said as you walked down the hall and Hera looked at Bolt worryingly.

"Who's he worried will sense them?" She asked and Bolt sighed.

"Since the Jedi purge Y/N's been terrified of being found by the empire and their inquisitors. It's been worse since we took Ben in" He explained and Zeb looked at him quizzically.

"He's not yours?" He asked and Bolt shook his head.

"Not biologically" Bolt explained and Kanan understood immediately.

"He's force sensitive isn't he?" He asked and Bolt nodded but immediately turned around when he heard little footsteps running towards him.

"Buir!" Ben yelled as he ran and held onto his father.

"There's someone scary outside- and Papa said to run and I don't- I don't know what to do" Ben cried as Bolt picked him up in his arms.

Kanan heard the familiar sound of a lightsaber igniting and immediately knew what was going on.

"Inquisitors" He said looked at Ezra. The two ran in the direction Ben just came from.

"Is Papa going to be okay?" Ben asked and Bolt nodded firmly.

"He'll be fine ad'ika, your papa's stronger than you know" Bolt said trying to assure his son.

"Sabine, Zeb, get Bolt and Ben onto the Ghost and start the engines, I'm going to find the data chip" Hera said as she ran into the house.

"Come on" Sabine said as she led Bolt and Zeb outside to the Ghost.

---

You dodged lightsaber blades as well as you could, keeping the inquisitor's attention for as long as you could.

"And here I thought we'd just be collecting today, lord Vader will be glad to know we killed another pathetic jedi" She said as you fought her off as best you could. You didn't have time to get your saber from it's hiding spot and you were at a severe disadvantage.

"You will never get your filthy hands on him you sith scum. Not so long as I still live!" You yelled as you managed to disarm her. Her training was lacking, she was a beginner padawan at best.

"Then I guess you simply have to die" The inquisitor said, she summoned her saber again and was about to cut right through you when you kicked her back. Catching her saber.

"Your master has trained you poorly." You told her and you sensed Ezra and Kanan had joined you.

You held her saber to her throat.

"You should know better than to be so arrogant when you are so severely outmatched" You said and were about to end her when Kanan stopped you.

"Y/N stop!" He said and you halted.

"She went after my son. I can see the temple training in her fighting, she's a pathetic excuse for a traitor and she must be stopped before she can hurt anyone else" You said, hand stable and on the verge of plunging into her throat.

"This isn't the Jedi way, it isn't right. You won, Ben is safe" Kanan said from behind you and you felt him walk closer to you.

"You should have listened before Kanan, I am no longer a jedi" You said and cut into the inquisitor's throat, killing her.

"And I will do what I must to keep my family safe" You said, extinguished the red saber, throwing it to the ground.

#star wars animated #reader insert #star wars imagine #star wars rebels x reader #star wars rebels #hera syndulla #garazeb orrelios #sabbine wren #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #male reader #clone x reader #star wars #order 66 #parent reader

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duhragonball · 26 days

Text

JoJolion Ch.43-46

This is the "Love Love Deluxe" arc. Ignore that star birthmark in this image. it's a mistake, and from what I read they wound up editing it out of later editions of this comic.

Last time, Yasuho and Tsurugi narrowly escaped from another Rock Human. Since then they've taken Yasuho to the doctor to have those cuts on her face looked at, but Chapter 43 opens with Tsurugi putting more band-aids all over her. I think the gag is that Tsurugi has a crush on Yasuho and he's too young to really know what to do about it, so he'll take any excuse he can find to get up close with her.

Anyway, Tsurugi called Josuke at some point, and he finally meets them, although he doesn't recognize Yasuho at first, maybe because of the band-aids on her face, or because he was expecting Tsurugi to be alone. They both get emotional about seeing each other again, because it's been a while. How long? Well, let's see...

They were separated when Josuke moved into the Higashikata mansion. Kyo warned Yasuho to stay away from the place, and when Yasuho saw Josuke next, he couldn't remember her because Daiya had taken that memory from him.

Later, Josuke used her cell phone to call Yasuho and they were going to meet to search for Holly Joestar Kira, but Josuke was intercepted by Born This Way. Yasuho helped him with Paisley Park, but she was unaware of it at the time.

Josuke tried to contact her again using Joshuu's phone, but she was blocking Joshuu's number. He got through with an e-mail and there were going to meet up at the Sesame Honey Cafe, but Yasuho was intercepted by Tsurugi's Paper Moon King. Josuke saw her later during the conflict with Yotsuyu Yagiyama, but she was asleep the entire time. After the battle, Norisuke sent her home while Josuke was out buying snacks, or something.

Josuke enlisted Yasuho's help to study the data logs on Jobin's car, but he never contacted her directly, and sent Tsurugi in his place.

Finally, Yasuho and Tsurugi spied on the baseball stadium to get some more information on Aisho Daienjiyama, but Josuke wasn't in that arc, and they weren't able to contact him. I assume Josuke knew about what they were up to, but maybe not. It's possible Tsurugi talked her into it because he was so desperate to get his li'l hands on a piece of that mysterious, life-saving fruit.

So yeah, a lot of missed connections there. We see so much of them both in this story that it's easy to lose sight of the fact that they've been kept apart. But they know, and that's why they're so emotional here.

Also, this arc suggests that it's been... six months since the earthquake? That can't be right. Well, that'd explain why Josuke was so determined to start school.

Tsurugi knows this will take a while, so he excuses himself and heads home. He wants to search the baseball stadium for Aisho's secret stash of miracle fruit, but he's smart enough to know better than to go alone. Good, get lost, kid. This is what we all came here to see. No more of this fruit parlor origami beetle-fighting nonsense. Higashikata time is over. Now it is time for Large Fries.

I enjoy fried chicken myself, but also fuck you, fried chicken. Large fries, briliant song, A plus, no notes. Yasuho is so overcome by this song that she thinks it's some famous tune, but Josuke is pretty sure he just made it up on the spot. She wants to hear it again. Also they've been holding hands pretty much the entire time and it's great.

I was a little disappointed that we didn't see more of these two getting together in Part 8. I was hoping for something in the final chapter to indicate that they were engaged, or making out, or anything to move their relationship further along. But this is about the strongest evidence we get that the Ship is Real. And really, it's enough. It's understandable to want more, but this is enough to confirm that they're not just "good friends" or whatever else.

Then this lady shows up and signals Josuke from a distance. She promises to meet him later, and addresses him as "Secchan". I'm not sure how she communicated this without Yasuho noticing, but Josuke excuses himself to find out what this is about.

She's more confused than hurt. I mean, if it's really been six months like this, then she's not going to be too flustered waiting twenty minutes for Josuke to check something out. His motives are clear. This woman seemed to know him from before the earthquake, and he doesn't want to tip his hand by admitting that he doesn't remember her. So he has to investigate alone.

At first, she thinks this is her friend, "Secchan", wearing a disguise to lay low. She noticed him at the fruit parlor the other day, and now she's trying to make contact. One of the first things she does is ask Josuke for money so she can find a place to sleep, but later he finds her blowing it all on Pachinko machines or whatever. Before that, she starts to suspect that he's not her friend after all and runs off, but Josuke uses Soft and Wet to read her ID card and finds out she's Karera Sakunami. When he calls her by name, she begins to trust him again, but Josuke can't get a lot of answers out of her.

Mostly, he's just bewildered by her behavior. Karera is impulsive and uses her Stand, Love Love Deluxe, to swindle and steal. She spends her money on things like laptops, which she says she'll need for her future career in fashion design, because she can't draw, so she expects to need CG software to do all the sketches.

Her Stand is kind of the same as the original "Love Deluxe" from Part 4, except Karera can grow hair on other people too. She tries to trick bald men into thinking she can regrow their hair, but the effect wears off after they walk out of her effective range, so it's important to get paid before they get too far away. She cheats a cabbie out of his fare by making it look like the car door closed on her hair. I'm not sure how that'd be the cabbie's fault anyway, unless Japanese cab drivers close the passenger doors for their riders. The point is she's kind of a little shit, and Josuke doesn't approve at all.

But the biggest blow for him is when she says she doesn't care about the past, only the here and now. Josuke realizes they're complete polar opposites. All he cares about is uncovering his past, because the here and now is so bleak for him.

And that's the heart of this story. The first time I read this, I thought it was setting up a love triangle of sorts, and it is, but Josuke's dilemma isn't between Yasuho and Karera. His dilemma is betwen his identity has now, as Josuke Highashikata, and the identity he longs for, the one he believes he had prior to the earthquake.

Eventually, Josuke convinces Karera to show him her phone, and she pulls up a photo she took of the three of them together: Karera, Yoshikage Kira, and... Josefumi Kujo. "Secchan" is a nickname for people who have a "se" syllable in their name, you see. The reveal of Josefumi's name and appearance is powerful for Josuke, but it's still just another piece of the puzzle he's trying to solve. It doesn't bring back a flood of Josufumi's memories or anything. In the end, it's not much different from when he discovered Yoshikagi Kira.

And it's disillusioning as well. Kira was kind of a weirdo, and I think Josuke was clinging to the hope that if he's Kira fused with another person, then that other person would be more likable. He wanted Josefumi to be the sort of person Josuke would want to have been. But if he hung around with people like Kira and Karera, then it really doesn't fit. Josuke wants to see his "past self" in these three, but he can't. That's because there is no "past self" for Josuke. He isn't Kira or Josefumi, and using their friends and enemies to define himself doesn't work. Karera can't tell him who he is, because she never knew him. Hell, she may not have known Josefumi all that well.

Indeed, Karera thinks Josuke's a disguise so he can lay low for a while. It's the same reason she left Morioh for six months. She doesn't know about Kira's death until Josuke explains it to her, so there's a lot of things that were going on back then that she isn't clear on. Apparently the three of them took possession of one of those fruit trees that the Rock Humans have been selling. Karera thinks it's still in Kira's apartment, but Josuke was there not too long ago and never saw it.

And that brings us to the villains of this arc, the Aphex Brothers. They're apparently twin brother Rock Humans and they've been tracking Karera this whole time, presumably because of her role in the fruit tree theft. She thought the heat had died down, which is why she came back to find Josefumi, but she has no idea what's been going on lately.

As for the Aphex Bros. powers, the older brother has a Stand called Schott Key No. 1 that just lets him teleport objects from one hand to the other. His right hand is just a deformed clump of rock with a thumb, though. I think the idea is that stuff that he can control the stuff that comes through the right hand, but we'll take a look in a second.

The younger brother has Schott Key No. 2, which is just a Stand that makes poison gas. This is kind of inconvenient, so he stores it in a bag shaped like a soccer ball. The effective range is only 20 cm, so you have to be right next to the ball for it to do any damage when it's opened.

So the older brother tries to grab Karera and uses his power to siphon gasoline with one hand and soak her with it using the other. Not sure why the gasoline is flesh-colored, but maybe Japan gets their petroleum from some weird refineries.

The boys try to light Karera on fire, but Josuke saves her by removing the flames with his Soft and Wet bubles. So the Aphex Brothers attack him instead. Karera flees, but she's been doing that all along, and they know they can find her later.

See, this is what I mean about Schott Key No. 1. He can grab the cables on this fence with the left hand, and they emerge from the right, just like the gasoline, but Aphex can wrap them around Josuke's face and neck like tentacles. This is supposed to hold him still while the younger Aphex sets up his poison gas, but...

Josuke distracts them with a bunch of soap bubbles full of nuts and bolts. Also, much of this fight is just Josuke whopping these guys' asses with his bare hands. He uses Soft and Wet in places, like when he puts a bubble under the skin of one brother's face and makes it burst open. But mostly he's just styling all over them with cool fighting skills.

The younger Aphex tries to razzle-dazzle him with soccer tricks, but Josuke counters with an "elbow to the face" trick, which is a lot more effective.

So where did Josuke learn to fight so good? I think this must have come from Kira and/or Josefumi. He doesn't remember their personal experiences, but he does retain basic knowledge about the world. He knows who Thomas Edison is, for example. He knows how to read and write.

I mean, the alternative is that he got this good since March, and who would have taught him? Joshuu? Don't make me laugh.

Finally, Aphex 1 gets the ball and prepares to move the poison gas from his left hand to the right, which is aimed at Josuke's face. This seems like an ideal finishing move, where the boys combine their Stands to trap their foe in an inescapable trap, but Josuke warns them that he'll win if they try this.

That's because he snuck his soap bubbles into the ball, and they soaked up all the gas. Aphex 1 can still bring it over through his right hand, but they won't burst until Josuke wants them to. Also, Karera has returned, and she's grown a strand of hair and soaked it in gasoline to light Aphex 1's head on fire.

Aphex 2 tries to rush over to help his brother, the bubbles pop when he gets there, so he just ends up inhaling a lungfull of his own poison gas. So they both die together.

I could goof on these two, but I think it's clear that their main role in the Rock Human's little gang is to hunt down and kill their enemies, who are usually humans without Stands. Their plan to kill Karera seemed pretty quick and effective, but once they lost the element of surprise, their weaknesses became very apparent. Someone could have shot them down from across the road and that would have probably killed them, because the poison gas only works in a 20cm range, and Aphex 1's power only works on things within his own reach.

Then Karera runs off again. She tells Josuke that she came back because she felt bad about getting him into this mess, and she realizes now that Kira and Josefumi must have performed some sort of Equivalent Exchange with the fruit tree they stole. She promises to come back and see him sometime, but she won't say when.

One major clue she does give Josuke is the name of the fruit, "Locacaca." This has been spelled a number of different ways, but I think "Locacaca" has emerged as the "official" spelling so I'll just run with that. The really important thing here is that Josuke is flustered because "I still haven't asked you who I am..." So the lesson hasn't quite sunk in yet. Karera can't tell Josuke who he is. It's not a matter of whether she wants to, or whether she even knows. Ultimately, it's impossible for her to define his existence. Josuke has to achieve that himself through the choices he makes in the present.

Yasuho can't define him either, but Josuke can define himself through his relationship with her, if he chooses to do so. So she's an opportunity to develop himself as a person, if he wants it. And she's still waiting for him to get back, so the window is still open on that.

In contrast, the "promise" of Karera is ultimately hollow. She just wants a roll in the hay with Josefumi, and she can't give him what he truly wants. She isn't even claiming to be able to do that. Josuke could wait for her to return, but he has no idea how long that might take, and it still won't get him where he wants to go.

But it's the idea of a mystery woman who can tell him who he is, that's what fascinates Josuke here. It's the same as Tsurugi's desperation for a taste of that Locacaca fruit. By now, it's become pretty clear that it can't save his life from the Rock Disease. It grew back that old man's entire leg, but his eyes fell out in exchange. The only way equivalent exchange can save you from a terminal illness is by killing someone else instead, and Tsurgui's grandfather already has that planned out. But the idea of bypassing all of that with just a bite of fruit is clouding Tsurugi's judgement, which is why he keeps wanting to rush into danger when he ought to know better.

The true path for Tsurugi's salvation is more complicated than this. The Locacaca fruit is part of it, but it's not the entire thing. The same holds true for Josuke's self-actualization. The answers won't be handed to him by certain people. He has to develop his own relationships and figure things out for himself. Like that song he made up.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojolion #jo2uke higashikata #yasuho hirose #karera sakunami #yoshikage kira #josefumi kujo #aphex brothers

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doctorbrown · 7 months

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DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 31 / 31 * FINALE | HEART 」

March 8, 1929

Whenever Erhardt was at the courthouse, if Emmett wasn't in his room, pouring over works that would make his father red-faced and angry, he could be found with a pillow propped up against the grandfather clock in the living room, leaning back and reading whatever caught his eye this time.

It had become a pattern over the years, one Sarah had learned quite quickly after the first two times wondering where her son had run off to when he wasn't anywhere to be found in his room. Emmett was at his most comfortable when his father wasn't at home—and she couldn't blame him for that, despite how she'd tried to soften the tension between her husband and her child—and he didn't hesitate to take full advantage of the house when it was open to him.

Sarah quirks a brow upon seeing the book clutched in Emmett's hands. ❝Are you reading one of my science-fiction novels again?❞

❝Father isn't home to yell at me for wasting my time reading this worthless trash.❞ He puts on his best impression of his father as he can, mimicking the gruffness of his voice and the accent he'd yet to lose even after nearly twenty years here. ❝He wouldn't even listen to me when I told them they were educational, because they were about science.❞

Sometimes, his parents seem like fire and ice compared to each other, opposites in every way eternally fated to clash, especially where their interests are concerned; there are days he simply can't understand how they get along.

❝I found this hidden in your library.❞ He holds up the copy of A Voyage to Arcturus he'd swiped, knowing he won't be reproached for his choice in reading material. Finally, he looks away from the book, and Emmett purses his lips, studying his mother's done-up hair and full state of dress, coming to the conclusion she must be going out again for some of the day's chores.

He wonders if this time, he'll be forced to go along.

❝You know your father usually gets home around five,❞ she says, prompting Emmett to lift his head as high as he can to see the hands of the grandfather clock above him, ❝so be cautious how long you spend out here, dear.❞ The time currently reads 11:00 exactly and he frowns.

❝Is Father ever going to get our grandfather clock repaired? It has been broken for weeks and I really liked the hourly chimes.❞

❝He said he sent out for a repairman, but that was two weeks ago and I've heard nothing since. At this rate, I don't know when it'll be repaired. I'll bring it up to him tonight at dinner. Speaking of—Emmett, I'm going out to pick up some groceries. I trust you'll behave for a few hours while I'm out?❞

Emmett nods and with a quick goodbye, Sarah closes the door behind her, leaving him alone.

The book in his hands no longer holds his interest. Now that they've brought it up, all he can think about is the broken clock, whose mechanical songs have been sorely missed over the past few weeks. The clock had always been a constant, a comfort, a staple in the house as far back as he can remember, and he'd found himself on more than one occasion peering into the glass, watching the pendulum swing and the weights dance with their precise, rhythmic grace.

It was as close to watching time live and breathe as he could get and it had captivated him, as did the smaller clocks set up in the house.

Just a few months ago, he'd disassembled the small bedside clock in his room to see how it worked and had managed to put it back together without either of his parents figuring out.

If he could do that, surely he could fix this one, his favourite clock in the entire house.

His father clearly didn't see the importance of having it operational again—that, or he simply didn't care—and he could already imagine how the conversation at dinner would go. Poorly. And the clock would remain broken for another several weeks.

If he didn't, nobody else would.

Emmett checks to make sure his mother really has left before he hurries to the storage room to dig out the toolbox he'd seen his father use several times.

It's heavier than he remembers, but his mind is made up and nothing is going to get in the way of his goal, even if he has to drag the box the rest of the way towards the house.

As he peers inside the glass, he starts to take stock of all the pieces within, studying each of them carefully as if the answer will suddenly leap out at him. There could be any number of things that silenced the clock and as far as he's concerned, the best solution is to start carefully removing pieces until he can pinpoint the culprit.

For a moment, the task feels gargantuan, what with all the sprawling, delicate clockwork, but he's got his wits, his determination, and his trusty toolbox, so as he stands on his toes, reminding himself to be slow and cautious, it starts to feel more doable.

I should start from the top down.

The side door only takes a little wiggling to get loose and Emmett marvels at the first real look he's ever gotten at the movement, glittering gold in its wooden case. His eyes widen at the mechanical marvel twisting before him and he finds it even more appealing than the ornate carvings inlaid into the dark cabinet.

The front door swings open easily and Emmett's touch is almost featherlight as he pulls the hands off the movement. The clock face looks unsettling without the hands there, almost like it's naked, and he frowns as he sticks the hands in his pockets for safekeeping.

Everything has to come out in order for him to properly inspect it, but the question now becomes how. How does he remove the movement without further damaging what he's trying to repair?

Emmett sticks his head through the open side panel again and lets out an excited aha! when he spots the latches holding the face of the clock in place. A firm push knocks it free and sends the face clattering to the ground. He winces at the sound, but a quick inspection reveals no new damage—nothing has snapped off or bent or broken, so he must still be okay.

The relief he feels at that is short-lived when he realises he has no idea what to do next.

He presses his lips together in thought and reaches back through time to try and feel around the different pieces of the machine. This is all just another puzzle, one created by someone who may understand time better than him, but he has science on his side, and if he follows the cables and pulleys back to their origin point, where they connect must be the problem.

A broken gear, perhaps, or a bent hammer, or something has gotten knocked out of place.

When he tries to pull at the movement again, it remains stubbornly locked in place, and so he drops his focus down to the weights dangling lifelessly at the end of their golden ropes.

Those, too, clatter to the ground in perfect synchronisation with the loud yelp of surprise he lets out.

The rest of the pieces follow unceremoniously after, one-by-one until he's left cradling the silent heart of the clock in his hands.

Emmett turns it over in his hands, scrutinising it from corner-to-corner to try and spot anything that screams this, this is the problem!

❝Emmett Lathrop Brown!❞ That cold, booming voice strikes fear straight into his chest and Emmett immediately freezes, clutching the clock's heart to his chest like a shield. He's sitting in the centre of the half-circle of dismembered clock parts and no amount of trying to talk his way out of this one is going to make him look any less guilty than he is.

His father's anger could level the house. He can feel it, a thousand white-hot blades digging into his skin, even from across the room.

He tries to look up at the clock above him, but instead of helping him, it screams accusations.

❝Y-Yes, Father?❞

#doctober 2023 #a broken clock may be right twice a day but in this case it was very wrong rip emmett #and with that...doctober is over!! it's bittersweet but i'm also thankful and i feel like i've grown more confident as a writer for this #fandom even if just by a little. to all who've read and liked and commented and reblogged any of these prompts i thank you wholeheartedly #you've definitely kept me going with your enthusiasm and i appreciate you greatly for it #i feel like emmett's love for reading definitely came from his mum and sarah is one of those types of people who will read a wide array #of different types of genres #and she likes to collect books too which young emmett helped himself to whenever erhardt wasn't around #it was basically their little secret #also the fact that even in the delorean owner's manual doc talks about the fact that his mum and dad did not part on good terms #just lends weight to this theory of mine; it was probably the culmination of a lot of bs and them not being fully compatible and the fact #that well he just treated their kid like shit and she was not about that #and in the comics erhardt was basically like 'you're just as stubborn as your son' just lends me to believe that he was not the #type of person who did well with others who didn't fully bend to his will #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」#also given the origin of the grandfather clock and the neat science behind it #it seems so fitting that it be used as a main catalyst in doc's life - and that he'd love it #he just wanted to fix the clock okay and as you do when you're young you think you can do everything #doc being also wicked smart and too curious for his own good def didn't help but #doc's obsession with time and clocks is everything to me tbh #every clock is a little different and they all tell different stories and time is such a fascinating concept #man-made perhaps but still

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karrenseely · 6 months

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A Letter to my bio mother.

A few years ago my mother wrote me out of the blue, after having not spoken to me for 20 years. She ignored me when I finally managed to graduate college despite all she'd done to me, she (and the rest of the family) ignored me at my father's funeral, she ignored me when I graduated from medical school. That first year after she and dad disowned me I wrote to them about once a month. I never got a response. That Christmas I stopped by our house and dropped off Christmas presents for everyone (Mom, Dad, Sister). Mom wouldn't even look at me and retreated into the house. Dad basically told me to go away, I didn't belong there anymore. It hurt, a lot. Then a few weeks went by, and I got a box in the mail, I was excited because the return address was my old home, I thought maybe, they've finally accepted me and come to their senses. I opened the box and was immediately crushed, they had sent back all the gifts I'd worked so hard to find for them, unopened, still in there wrapping paper. So needless to say, I was very surprised to see she had messaged me on FB, and that old hope resurfaced once again. I opened the message and was crushed... once again. She had sent me a message to yell at me. This is the letter I would have liked to send back. Instead, I blocked her because it hurt so much, even now I second guess that decision because a part of me still wishes she could have loved the daughter she had.

The message I am responding to: "I just saw your go fund me page. Our hope in "cutting you off" was to leave enough time and space for you to grow up and really think about the huge step you were wanting to take. It didn't help that YOU told us it was our fault and then demanded that we pay all your medical expenses to have the surgery. You are as much to blame for the family separation as your Dad and I are. I will accept my part of that blame. I knew when we did it that we might never see you again but it was a risk both of us were willing to take because we were hoping you would not choose to take such a difficult path through life. It was a gamble and we lost, but so did you. You have a wonderful, intelligent, funny, sweet, smart family members you have never even met. Erin's kids, Paul and Kayla. Your loss, believe me. They are great great kids and that is not a comment just from their grandmother. We hear it all the time from other adults that get to know them. When you left I lost my only son, then I lost him again when you had the operation. Not having children you can not begin to comprehend the depth of that pain. Losing a parent doesn't even come close. God gave me a second chance to have a son in my stepson, Karl, and now that has been snatched away from me as well because he committed suicide in April. Do not underestimate the amount of pain and loss your family has gone through because of your choices. Your Dad, Mother, Grandma Seely, Grandpa Seely, and all your aunts and uncles grieved for you and the person we all knew and loved named [Deadname]. Fortunately, your Grandfathers never knew what you were doing as it would have destroyed both of them. Life changes ALWAYS leave huge ripples in the pond. I wish you well in your chosen life but don't place all the blame on the family YOU chose to leave behind."

Dear Mom,

I do not understand you. I am your daughter. I have always been your daughter. On some level I'm sure you've always known this. I'm sure as a toddler I said I was a girl. I remember doing lots of things that were not typical for a little boy, but certainly were for a little girl. So I'm sure you knew, though you denied it. You denied me.

I will always be grateful to you for letting me play dolls and barbie with my sister, for letting me get a doll instead of a transformer, for teaching me how to cross stitch, knit, and encouraging me to read. For teaching me how to do household chores and how to cook. For making sure I took my medicine and staying up with me at night when my asthma was bad, for sending me to camp Not-A-Wheeze, for not letting me die on those horrid nights when I couldn't breathe. For saving my ankle and my ability to walk. For going to bat for me when that teacher really didn't like me because I had such a hard time acting like a boy.

But this is also why you hurt me so deeply. Because I mistook you loving the son you thought you had, that you wanted, for loving me. I was hurting so much. By the time I came to you, I was desperate. I was already self harming, though you never knew. I had already gone through the process of accepting I was trans, not that I liked it, but it was the only way I knew of to find any relief from the torment of not being allowed to be me. I was dying. I was already fighting the shame I'd been taught. I'd already learned it was bad to be a girl, and that it was doubly bad to be girl that everyone insisted was a boy. I had desperately tried to hide it, I was terrified of being friends with girls, because I thought if I was, someone would learn my horrible shameful secret. I had been dealing with these feelings for years before I came out to you. And I knew, if I didn't get help, I wasn't going to survive. So I came to you. But you denied my feelings and called it a phase... except this phase had lasted for years, when I look back, it lasted as long as I could remember, though I didn't understand that at the time.

I was so lost and confused, my parents didn't believe me. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to last a little bit longer. I think I came out to you again. This time you denied I was your daughter again. Things were bad, really really bad. By that time, puberty had already started and was destroying what little comfort I could find in my body, worse, to my horror, my voice started to drop. I knew there was treatment to stop this from happening, and I so desperately needed it. But everytime I asked for help I was denied. Worse, anytime I couldn't hide the fact that I was your daughter you yelled at me, shamed me, made me believe I was freak, a pervert, a monster. I felt so helpless, so hopeless, and so very very alone. I broke. I know I stopped growing mentally at that point. I dissociated so much, that what memories I have are fragmented, and I got stuck at age 15/16 for years. I couldn't cope with the world anymore. Somewhere in there you sent me to a counselor. I didn't know you were hoping he would erase me. And he hurt me, he hurt me so much. I thank the gods and the universe that you didn't force me to continue seeing him, and instead sent me to the only female psychologist in that office... but it was in that office, it was impossible to fully trust her, I never was able to talk about how I was really feeling, because I never felt safe in that office.

I stopped feeling safe at home too, after I came out to you. My parents who were supposed to love, accept, and support me, instead turned on me. Demanded I explain why I existed, why I knew I was a girl. Adult's can't even explain this, and you demanded this of me, a child. And no matter what explanation I managed to draw up, it was never enough for you. Instead you twisted it, and used it to dismantle any self worth I had, any sense of safety I had with you. For some reason, looking back I have no idea why, I trusted you right up to the day you disowned me. I thought I deserved everything you did to me. I thought that if you didn't love me, then no one could. I never even tried talking to my only two real friends I had after you disowned, as I was convinced they would hate me too if I came out to them. Thankfully, I was wrong about that.

Sometime later, I began to learn that what you did to me was wrong, I began to understand it was abuse, but it didn't really sink in, until I was at a queer youth retreat and one of the sessions was about the power and control wheel. It was then that I really saw what you had done to me, that what you were doing to me was abuse. You gaslit me from the day I was born, and everytime I tried to tell you otherwise, you told me I was crazy, I was shameful, I was broken, I sick, I was wrong, I was sin incarnate. You did everything you could to try to control and erase me short of outright murder. Worse, you actually told me you wanted me dead. What kind of mother tells her daughter she wants her daughter dead?

At some point, my maternal grandmother got a hold of me. I think it was a letter via snail mail. I learned that she still wanted to have a relationship with me. She didn't understand, and she constantly misgendered me and dead-named me, but she at least talked to me and welcomed me into her home. Then a few years later after she moved into assisted living for awhile, she disappeared. There was no forwarding address, I had no way to contact her, you stole her away from me. By that time she didn't have the cognitive faculty to get a hold of me on her own. I never saw her again. You took away the only living relative that still wanted a relationship with me... Then years later, you dangled her contact information in front of me, like I had done something wrong by not talking to her all that time. And you told me she was dying. But by that time I had already grieved for her, I couldn't go through that heart break again, and she was so far into her dementia that she wouldn't remember me anyway... why reopen those old wounds. Today I understand that was my CPTSD (from you, my peers, and society's abuse) telling me to avoid anything that would hurt.

Then, seven years ago... gods has it been seven years? It still hurts so much. Seven years ago, you apparently found out about my project to try and create a halfway house for homeless LGBT+ kids. You decided to write me the last message I ever got from you. You blamed me for what you did. That somehow it was my fault that you disowned me. You know, that day that you cut me out of your life, out of our entire family, you showed me your love was conditional. I remember you telling me that you'd take me back if I only would continue to pretend to be a boy for you, but you would be monitoring me to make sure I wasn't letting the real me out. You shattered the love and trust I had in you.

Even if I figured out somehow that I was wrong and I was a boy, how could I go back to you? To parents who never really loved me enough to let me figure everything out, to parents whose love was so conditional. And yet you say you did it for me. That is a lie. You did it for yourselves in a last ditch effort to try and continue to control me to be your imaginary son. You didn't do this to help me understand "what a huge step [I} was wanting to take." I was already well aware, I had spent years figuring that shit out even before the first time I came to you looking for help. I knew what I was in for, I'd had flashes of it for years in the abuse I suffered from my peers when they saw the girl I was trying to hide. I knew it from all the research I had done, from the fellow trans people I knew online by that time.

I didn't choose to be disowned. You chose to not love me, accept me, or support me. You chose to disown me. I didn't have any say in the matter. And yes, how you chose to respond to my distress, my suffering IS your fault. Shaming me for being your daughter when you wanted your imaginary son. Shaming me for being a girl, for teaching me that I was something that needed to be hidden, something horrible, something icky, for forbidding me from talking to my sister about it, the only other person I had ever considered talking to about it after coming out to you, why? The only conclusion I could reach at that age is that I was so sick, so horrible, I would somehow corrupt her too. So I obeyed you and no, I never told her. She learned some of it on her own, but because I wasn't allowed to talk to her about it, she considered me a pervert. I never discussed any of it with her... not until after you disowned me.

So yes it is your fault. I WAS A CHILD! Worse, I was your child! Of Course I thought you would help me! It's why I came to you in the first place, it's why I kept coming to you. Because I WAS YOUR CHILD! I was your daughter and I was suffering so much. The only two paths I could see, that I could ever see was death or finally getting to be me, in a body that didn't constantly hurt me so much. But you denied me all of that. You denied me. You chose to do all of that to me. For what? For an imaginary son that never existed? You broke me. Of Course I blame you for that. I blame you for all the emotional abuse, neglect, and medical neglect you did to me. You were my mother, you were supposed to love ME, not some imaginary person you wanted instead, but ME. It is beyond twisted to me that you think I am as much to blame for what you chose to do to me. I didn't have a say in the matter. I had two options: live and be myself (while apparently losing everyone I ever loved) or dying. I chose to live. I refused to die for you. You haven't accepted any blame at all. You never did. All you do is try to gaslight me into believing that my being your daughter is somehow my fault. I didn't get the choice. You decided to create me. You decided to give birth to me. You decided to accept the responsibility of raising me. And then when I refused to be what you wanted... you threw me away like garbage. The only reason you never saw me again is because you never accepted that you had a daughter instead of a son. You never loved me. You wanted me dead and told me so yourself. With everything I went through growing up, it's a miracle I survived. To this day, I don't know how I did. Not with how much you tried to destroy me. You gambled with my life, hoping I would choose to continue to pretend to be your son, that I would continue to endure the constant torture of not being me. I would not have survived that. I barely survived at all.

Thank you for reminding me how much you took away from me. You took away my parents, my sister, my extended family. You took away everyone I ever loved. Thank you for reminding me that I have never been allowed to meet my niece and nephew, who by now are adults living their own lives. I pray to this day that neither of them were LGBT+, given the family they grew up in... it would have been a nightmare for them. I still grieve that they never tried to get in touch with me, that my sister never allowed me to be part of their lives.

You said when you disowned me you "lost [your] only son." But that's the whole problem. You never had a son. And you refuse to see this. To this day, you deny my existence, and blame me for it. And you assume I don't have kids. I have 3 wonderful kids who are becoming adults as we speak, or are approaching adulthood far to rapidly for my liking. They are amazing. And unlike my niece, nephew, and step brother, you chose to never have them be a part of your life. I am so proud of them. So please don't presume to know how I would understand the pain if I were to lose them. And please don't presume to think that the pain of losing a child is the same as losing everyone you ever loved, of knowing your parents hate you, of knowing your mom wanted you dead. The pain of knowing this when I was still just a child. These are two entirely different traumas. Please don't equate them. And please don't presume that it wasn't you who chose to throw your child away like she was garbage.

When father died, you ignored me, you tried to keep me away from his funeral. If my sister hadn't called me, I would never have known. And then at the funeral you never acknowledged my presence, no one from our family did. Instead you had your church lackeys try to push me out the door while I sat in that chair weeping, grieving. Did you know, that it was then that I finally understood you were not ever going to love me, accept me, or ever be a positive part of my life.

My grandfathers never knew the real me, because you made me believe telling them would kill them. I remember I tried reaching out to one of my uncles once, but it was such a hard conversation, and it only felt like they wanted to get off the phone. They never called me back or tried to reach out to me. No one except my maternal grandmother ever reached out to me in any positive way. So please don't tell me they all grieved for me, they chose to never talk to me again. They chose to cut me out of their lives as much as you did. I have very little sympathy for them, given when you disowned me I was homeless. I couch surfed throughout that summer. I really needed their help, since you refused to help me. Had it not been for some amazing friends letting me stay with them, and helping me get back on my feet, I would have ended up on the streets, like so many homeless LGBT+ kids. They chose to do that to me, just as you did. So no, I won't cry any tears for them choosing to throw me away too.

You mentioned that I had a step brother, whom I was never able to meet. You seemed to think you could replace me with him. I feel so bad for him, that you would put that burden on him. And then before I even knew I had a step-brother, he took his own life. I wonder every day if it was because he was LGBT+ and the abuse he suffered killed him. I wonder all the time if you abused him like you abused me. I wonder, what if he had been able to talk to me, get support from me, if he'd still be here. It hurts to know he died by suicide, because I wonder if it was for the same reason I almost died. I will always wonder...

You wrote this letter hoping to hurt me I think. You succeeded. You hurt me again. I had managed to live my life, find a family for myself. A family that actually loves me for me. Whom I can share all the joys and sorrows of life with. Whom got to see the joy I experienced when I finally got to be myself. When I didn't have to hide anymore. Who got to see me graduate college, who got to see me go to medical school, who saw me graduate and flourish. With three wonderful children that I helped to raise, and 6 others that are like nieces and nephews to me. But out of the blue, you wrote to me, to try to hurt me again. For what? Because I wanted to help other LGBT+ kids who went through what I went through? How petty is that? And yet despite everything I had accomplished, everyone I loved currently. You still managed to find me and hurt me again.

The day I got that message from you, was the day I was finally able to make a choice about our relationship. I'd never been able to before. It was the day blocked you from contacting me on FB ever again. Please don't try to contact me again. You made your choice, and it is apparent to me that you will never acknowledge what you did to me. How much you hurt me. How 27 years later I'm still in therapy over what you did to me. I've long since lost hope that you'll ever tell me you love ME and that you're sorry.

Sincerely, your daughter, always,

Karren

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weebsinstash · 1 year

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HOLY SHIT MERRY CHRISTMAS HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REPLYING TO MY GIGANTIC ASK!!!! I screamed when I saw it and it's just such a delight reading anything you write, from your additions to my idea to your own original concept 🥺. Like!!!! Ily and your concept was bomb!! Amazing!!!!!!!!!! YOU'RE SUCH A BLESSING AND IF YOU WANNA RAMBLE MORE ABOUT IT. Just know I'm here and Imma read the entire thing.

I mean since I am in Creative Mode right now fjfjfkckf I kind of shared most of the details from that one original idea I had besides maybe like specific scenarios? Or i guess I just wound up writing just this one and it got really long

Ok so. Imagine a scenario where Reader is married off to the Emperor. She's only a concubine because she is not high ranking enough to be Empress, like unfortunately in these sorts of stories and political systems the Empress is typically like a political marriage of extremely high value, so you're kind of The Official Side Bitch while other women are being considered for Empress which, insanely burns you because regardless of whether Reader loves the Emperor or she doesn't and this is a prison, now she's basically his accessory and not even like the main/only wife?

Separate idea for a second but sometimes I imagine awakening as Saintess is the thing that lowkey fucks Reader over and makes her of high enough status to be Empress and it can also be easily spun into propoganda how the war hero Emperor and the Saintess fell in love before either of them rose to their stations and how oh, it must be preordained by the heavens

But anyways for this scenario, imagine they've been married and Reader is feeling extremely unhappy and neglected to the point she's being socially withdrawn and isn't particularly speaking to anyone or doing anything. Perhaps the Emperor has had certain behaviors that have upset her, like punishing servants too harshly for menial things such as not attending to her with absolute perfection, she hates hearing that he is getting other concubines, daughters and princesses of foreign nations as symbolic political alliances, perhaps the Emperor, because of decorum, was forced to admonish or even punish her in some way for something she did such as speaking out against another harem woman who was being disrespectful and causing some sort of argument or even fight. Reader gets emotional and winds up slapping a noble woman and the Emperor puts her on house arrest as punishment, but it's mostly as a form of protection since some of these women are deliberately trying to rile you up and start shit as an excuse to try and bring you down or retaliate because they disliked you before you even gave them any reason to, but Reader then feels isolated and hates how he didn't try and defend her, that her losing her temper was worse than whatever the woman had said.

It doesn't feel good to put your love and trust into someone and have them choose someone else's side. It's like taking whatever small sense of security and self worth you had and chipping away at it.

So in all of her feelings of betrayal and isolation, Reader starts keeping most things to herself. She doesn't go out even after the Emperor lifts the punishment. She refuses invites sent by courier from any of the other women. She instructs her servants to close the gates of her palace and not to let anyone enter without her explicit permission. And of course, she tells no one as she slowly begins to fall ill, gradually getting sicker and sicker, forbidding any of the servants from saying a single thing. It becomes severe enough thst she's eventually spending most of her days in bed, feeling too week to do much of anything

Finally one of the loyal servants cracks. They can't conceal this at the risk of your health even if you have asked them to. This might have already gone on for too long. You seem to almost be deteriorating. By the time a servant personally informs the Emperor of your state and he's rushed to check on you, you're completely unconscious, feverish, you've lost weight since he's seen you last. The royal doctors are summoned immediately, but the prognosis isn't good. You're extremely weak and they aren't exactly sure why which is concerning for multiple reasons. They have no concrete evidence what disease it is that is making you so incredibly fragile. It's like your body lacks the energy to move, speak, even wake up entirely.

A doctor makes the mistake of telling the Emperor that, surely if this illness had been caught in its infancy, your condition wouldn't be so severe. They are unsure if they can cure you. They can't even promise that you are going to live.

When your eyes finally open again you've been unconscious for several days and not a single person around you is familiar. Your entire palace staff have been changed. Where are all your maids and guards who you've come to know over these years, people you've worked with, all but grown up with? The new staff will not answer you, simply brushing you off, that such matters are not important to waste energy worrying in when you are in such weak health

You have a bad feeling. You have such a horrible fucking feeling that something is wrong that it's making your skin crawl. It takes everything you have to get your body to move out of bed, your heart hammering with anxiety, fear and desperation sinking in like a poison. You try to leave your bedroom and there are guards posted outside who all but order you to go lie back down. But you refuse, and even, you tell them to their faces that if they DARE touch you that His Majesty The Emperor would surely kill them

Something about the look in those men's eyes seemed all too afraid to you. The bad gut-feelings intensify. You're all but stumbling out of your palace with a small team of unrecognizable people trailing after you. You're not even sure where you're going but something is WRONG, you can FEEL IT, and to add to your irritation are all of these buzzing flies. When did so many pests make it into the palace? They keep growing and growing in numbers in an intensity you've never seen even in the hottest summer months, it's vile, it's disgusting, it's

it's... because your entire former staff are all hanging in the central courtyard, strung up by their necks, hung dead as insect scavengers feast on their decaying bodies for everyone to see. A punishment left out in the open as a warning to the others of their treasonous crimes.

You just start wailing hysterically. Those were your friends. That was like your family. In this scenario the thing that was causing Reader to fall ill was the mana accumulating in her body without any sort of outlet, until now, when she awakens as Saintess, and just begins to sob. You're sitting there just wailing and sobbing and screaming like you've never screamed before and rain is pouring down everywhere like a sudden squall, practically hurricane force winds as there seems to be almost a halo of dry sky around you and the hideously disrespected bodies of your subordinates. You're weeping, and the sky weeps with you.

And I imagine this is the final straw that makes Reader go "I swear to fucking god I am getting a divorce from this man or kill one of us trying" and im her position as Saintess she has incredible negotiating power to do so because, oh, the Emperor is holding the Saintess hostage in am unwanted marriage and is refusing to let her make any pilgrimages to help the people? How is she supposed to heal the sick and bring rain to the regions affected by drought then? What would the commoners think? What would the other nobles think? The Saintess is supposed to be a hero of the land, and the Emperor has a heart filled with greed that desires to keep her to himself? There would be enormous outrage and push back. The High Church would be more likely to incite a rebellion before they allowed the literal savior and figurehead of their church who has been missing for over a century to be held hostage

The Emperor is just holding court with tons of his ministers and maybe even some priests connected with the church are there when Readsr just barges in with a piece of paper where she's spent the last week combing through the royal library and researching old texts and laws and found several established precedents that entitle her to divorce, such as an old law that since the happiness and mental health of the Saintess are extremely critical to her role and ability to do her job that should something be causing her significant distress that it must be handled or left up to her discretion. Well she hates this busted ass one sided marriage with a stone wall of a man she spent years worrying about and wasting her energy on and she snarkily smirkingly tells him to his face that it's over, he can't do anything

Reader who before falling in had barely made any eye contact with the Emperor let alone smile is now viciously taunting him to his face that she can divorce him and he can't do anything, she can even leave the palace so she chooses to, he can't do anything to stop her, she finally has the personal freedom she's wanted her entire life. No one can tell her how to act anymore, how to speak anymore, she's just laughing and twirling and dancing to mock him and mock everyone who has tried to contain her and the Emperor has never loved you more than seeing how happy and free you look in this moment so OF COURSE he's like NO 🥺 B BUT WE'RE MAN AND WIFE 🥺 I KNOW I WASNT THE MOST FORTHCOMING BUT YOU CANT DIVORCE ME and I imagine he even tries to find laws that overturn the legal precedent, maybe even tries, outright disobey the laws entirely and says "fuck that I'm the current Emperor, new law, that one law is bullshit and we don't have to follow it"

I do like the thought of Saintess Reader getting to flaunt her girlboss power and be free of him for a while and get to do her own thing and maybe travel the country doing her Saintess duties while he gets like max mental illness level obsessive and desperate to the point he's literally dragging her back even if she's kicking and screaming. Who knows maybe she can even get some new dick while she's out of the house, as a treat

#yandere stuff #sinprompts

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mxllitiam · 10 months

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@incaensio sent five times watched: ( five times effie watched katniss while they were working or doing something in the hunger games )

one.

effie watches from the sidelines as katniss wobbles on high heels to her first interview with caesar.

for all the practicing they've done, the girl is still not great at balancing. and for all that katniss must think the escort to be a monster putting her through this, effie sympathizes now, winces thinking about the agony of being uncomfortable in front of an entire crowd.

the boy will take this in stride, he looks like he was born to be in front of a camera. the girl hasn't had to rely on charisma before a day in her life.

katniss asks what, dumbfounded, and the crowd laughs. effie squirms on her spot.

maybe her colleagues are looking at her and thinking she's cringing in shame for her tribute on the stage, but that's far from it. as harsh as she can be preparing these kids for their interviews and as conceited as she may seem caring only about their image these few days before a game, she cares for them. she always has, in some way. when they walk onto that stage, all she can do is feel her chest cave in on itself, in despair, for the poor scared souls who march in there alone. to meet a beast such as caesar, no less.

when katniss walks out, effie gives her a squeeze on the shoudler and tell her she's done a wonderful job.

two.

effie has a breath stuck in her throat, waiting for the gong to start. this year feels different, except that it doesn't. every year feels this way -- heavy, charged, loaded. she tries to convince herself that the way her hands tremble and her heart races must mean they have a winner with them. she pretends the way her heart pulls for these kids must mean something with the greater forces of the universe.

it never does. it hasn't, so far.

she convinces herself again, plays the part of the faithful nonbeliever as she watches the two on their platforms. her eyes are on the blond boy, the way he shakes his head at the girl.

the girl, effie looks at her then, a sinking guilty feeling in her stomach for favoring the boy (she tried not to let it show and, given how much they seemed eager to ignore her, she hopes it was successful). the gong sounds. katniss runs, and she's strikingly fast, decided, as if there's a force pushing her forward.

chaos ensues. effie doesn't know she's holding her breath until it physically hurts her, and she gasps for air as the kids finally make it out, away from the cornucopia.

this year won't be easy. it never is.

three.

it's increasingly hard to stay within the common rooms to watch the games, this year.

she hasn't been a kind presence to haymitch. all she does is pace, and fidget, and squeak like a mouse whenever anything happens. she can't stand still and she can't get her eyes off the screen. the only time she's not watching is when she's out buttering up sponsors, though with haymitch's actual help this year, that's less of a problem.

she barely sleeps. this isn't new, effie always worries herself thin over the games. it's always bitten nailbeds and bloodshot eyes from barely blinking all day, but a lot of the time, they lose their tributes early. a lot of the time, it's barely even enough time to grab a second cup of coffee.

it's bad luck, that she happens to be sitting on the couch by the mentor's side when it happens -- a spear pierces through rue's middle. effie avoids it, closes her eyes hard enough to see stars until she hears it. her fragile little body falls limp to the ground.

she can't conceal the gasp that leaves her, but she presses her fingers to her lips shortly after, willing her mouth shut. oh, rue, poor rue. this shouldn't be a shock, and effie wasn't rooting for this girl to win, not when she has two of hers still in the game. but her stomach feels hollow with overwhelming grief, all at once. katniss runs, wails, holds rue's body and cries.

she barely excuses herself from haymitch before walking hastily to her bedroom.

she cries through that entire night, far past the hauntingly beautiful sound of katniss' singing voice and the memorial of flowers she builds around the little girl.

four.

she mostly stays in her room and watches the games alone.

she's far too emotional to be out in the open, vulnerability doesn't look that good on her. the glimmer of hope makes things better for a moment, with the announcement of two victors being able to win together, and katniss finding peeta. things look good, until they don't.

peeta is growing worse, sickly. he looks more like a ghost, colorless, weak. katniss, in comparison, is a burst of fire by his side, alive and surviving. she tends to his wounds, bending over backwards to keep him safe. she cares for him, as he cares for her. it's beautiful and so, so heartbreaking.

effie doesn't need to go outside and talk to haymitch to know why they're not sending any more things into the arena. no one cares about twelve. everyone who cares about twelve who isn't from the very district themselves, is holed up in this tower's floor. there are no sponsors looking to send the scrawny lovers anything -- not even water, food, medicine to stay alive.

they're all placing their bets and twelve is not even on their radar. as it has always been.

katniss decides to brave the feast and leaves their cave. effie wishes they could send her some weapons, at least. anything, she would do anything. she would squeeze her savings clean off if all of her money could buy one little tub or shot of medicine. to help them.

she hides her sobs against the back of her hand and hopes.

five.

she watches as katniss is pulled up into the hovercraft, peeta along with her. the two of them, the two.

selfishness means she's glad haymitch is gone, off to go meet with the brand new victors (plural!) from twelve, and she's left in the district's floor to watch for herself. if she'd known this moment was coming, she would've turned on every single screen in this place, put the volume on max, pop open a goddamn champagne bottle.

instead, she had stood in front of the single screen in the living room, frozen, lit up by its light, her eyes wide and glistening as she watched.

peeta was bleeding out, he wouldn't make it. katniss fussed over him. effie bit her tongue as her eyes danced all over the screen, dreading, anticipating the moment one would deal the final blow. she never watches the deaths, she never even comes close to it, her head jerking away the second she senses it coming. this time, she watches. this time, she's glued to the screen.

when they are both deemed the winners, she lets out a cry of relief, too honest in the emptiness of their twelfth floor.

katniss, with all of her bravery and her might, found a way to save them both. it's surreal, standing there watching them, watching her. effie keeps waiting for another shoe to drop, for the rug to be pulled from under her feet. her heart beats out a panicked rhythm, trying to map out all the horrifying possibilities -- a bomb erupts between the couple, everything implodes, the capitol takes back their promise again.

none of that happens. they are being lifted out of the arena. they are the winners.

effie presses a hand to the screen, wishing she could reach out to katniss. she touches holographic glass carefully, as if she could send her any warmth, as if it could somehow mean something.

it doesn't. but it's all she can do.

#wound tw #blood tw #death tw #canon hunger games tw tbh #effie : katniss #mxllitiam : drabble #mina gets the creativity rights to this drabble she told me to write the games from effie's pov #i loved this sm

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cheemken · 11 months

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can you say anything about Cynthia and sycamore’s dynamic in villain Diantha au? :00

THESE TWO CJKDNDKD

Their dynamic also makes me insane

No bc they're like, a much saner version of Diantha and Geeta, they've been friends since they were kids, they've always been there for each other despite the distance too, and after Cyrus died it's only the two of em left and they always try to make sure the other one is safe

Cynthia knows about Pa Sycamore. During his time in Sinnoh, Augustine told Prof Rowan about his father and how he never got to meet his own mother, unbeknownst to them Cynthia and Cyrus were listening, and they barged in comforting Augustine. And just cjmdnd y'know, Augustine kept saying it's fine, because his sister sent a letter to him saying how she became Champion, and when he finally goes back home to Kalos, he'll live w his sister, he doesn't have to go back to his father again

Ofc, Augustine kept in touch w them even when he got back to Kalos, they'd send letters and messages to each other making sure they're doing well too. But then one day, Cyrus stopped sending messages, one day Cynthia said she also became Champion of Sinnoh, and one day they all stopped.

During that dense silence, Augustine was completely unaware of what's happening in Sinnoh, being busy w his own research too so he'd finally be realized as a legit professor. So imagine his surprise when he sees Sinnoh on the news, Cynthia and Cyrus on top of Mt. Coronet, and suddenly... Suddenly Cyrus was taken by Giratina. Can you imagine how devastated he'd be tho, how he tried calling Cynthia after that but she wasn't answering his calls, as she's also grieving the lost of her friend.

It's just a mess.

And it took a few years before they had contact w each other again. With Augustine heading to Sinnoh, visiting Prof Rowan again. And Cynthia's there too, and they finally met again, and it's just so fucking quiet between them until Augustine broke down crying, running to her and pulling her into a hug. Taken aback, Cynthia pulled him closer too, afraid that he'd also be taken away from her.

And just jcmdnd despite everything they're still so important to each other y'know, and after that meeting they made sure to always keep in touch, to never distant themselves from each other, especially now since they lost Cyrus. And Augustine did help her grieve, those two had always been close since they were kids, and suddenly he's gone now.

And y'know everything's going so well, they're close w each other again, almost like when they were kids, they know each other's secrets, know what troubles the other, they just cjmdnd they just know, and suddenly the shit that happened w the champions, and now Augustine is scared he'd lose not only Diantha but Cynthia as well. He can't lose two more people he cares about, he already lost Cyrus and Lysandre, he can't lose Diantha and Cynthia too.

#imagine how paranoid this man actually is at this point tho #like hes always on guard always wanted to be sure that the others are safe #i wanna say that he did ask cynthia a favour to be w him while this whole crisis is still going #but he also knows that cynthia is still a champion and thus she has to be at her own home region if ever smth happens #and cynthia wants nothing more but to be w her friend. she knows how much augustine needed the comfort #and the moment cynthia wasnt there. sycamore finally saw diantha again #just ncmdbfkdnd oughhh #this au will be the death of me too hahaha #villain diantha au #an ask and an answer #thenawidow

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justminawrites · 1 year

Text

Five Days of Fire Flowers - Chapter 1: Red Oni, Blue Oni

AO3

Summary: The spring of love has finally begun blooming in Inazuma, but longtime friends and rivals, Arataki "The One and Oni" Itto and the town's sweetheart, Naganohara Yoimiya, seem to be the only ones who think nothing of the change. After all, those umeboshi competitions, near-death encounters, and complicated silences they've been sharing more and more often, don't really mean anything.. do they?

1 | TBC

“And then I sent the jerk flying– right down into the dirt!”

“Woah! That’s amazing!”

“But Mister Itto– didn’t it hurt?”

“Ha ha! A little pain isn’t going to stop someone like me, y’see, I’m The Pride of all Oni kind!”

“You’re so cool!”

Arataki Itto puffed out his chest at the compliment and flashed a toothy grin at the kids that flocked to him eagerly.

They were sitting right outside the shrine of Inazuma City, near the grassy plains with the cherry-blossom trees in full bloom, safely away from the watchful eyes of the Tenryou Commission.

Itto had challenged a certain fireworks expert to a duel to win the hearts of Inazuma’s children and the spunky blonde had picked Storytelling to be their weapon of choice this time. Whosoever told the best tale was considered the winner.

He regaled them with his latest adventures fighting a group of bandits by Musuo Blade Canyon, sure of his victory; there was no way Yoimiya could beat him when it came to exciting encounters, she may stir them with her little sparklers or whatever, but he had the grit and scars to show for his various battles with opponents far stronger and more renowned than he. And it seemed to be working, at first.

The three little ones, Matsuzaka, Iwao and sweet Saika, looked absolutely enthralled by his tale, their earlier fears forgotten as they ran their tiny fingers over his mace and Itto turned his smirk on the blonde perched on the bough of a nearby tree, swinging her feet and awaiting her turn.

The Naganohara heir met his smile with a wicked one of her own and jumped down from her place, dusting off her orange kimono as she did.

“Won’t hold it against ‘cha if ya just admit defeat now, Sparkie,” he grinned as she passed him,

“No shame in losing to someone more superior, after all.”

“Appreciate the offer,” Yoimiya said wryly as she resumed seat on a large stone opposite to him, “–but I wouldn’t be so quick to count my chickens yet, Arataki-san.”

“You haven’t even heard my story yet!”

“Yoimiya’s telling us a story!” Iwao gasped, immediately looking up.

“Yoimiya’s stories are the best!”

“Which one is it going to be this time? The Fire Diamond again?” Saika asked excitedly, turning to her friends.

Itto tried not to huff in irritation as the kids abandoned him to huddle under Yoimiya’s rock expectantly; whatever it was, it couldn’t be as good as single-handedly taking on a group of electro Kairagi warriors to protect a village.

“No, today’s special,” she began, crossing her legs, “So I’ve got a new one for you. It’s called Red Oni, Blue Oni.”

The children collectively turned back to give him a surprised look. Itto felt a strange sense of deja-vu pass over him and found himself refusing to meet their eyes. He knew the story of course, it was one of the very first stories he’d learned growing up.

“Oni? Like Mister-Itto?”

“Nope,” Yoimiya winked, “These were very different oni. They used to live in the mountains of Liyue, far, far away from Inazuma, back when the Archons first roamed Teyvat.”

“Oh..”

“Once upon a time, almost 2000 years ago, two oni friends lived in a cave, high up in the mountains above a small human settlement. One had red skin, the colour of Dendrobium flowers, and the other blue, like the sky.”

The children leaned in close, already invested.

“The Red Oni really wanted to befriend his neighbours, so he tried his best to accommodate them; he laid out sweets they liked, invited them to his cave, even tried to help them with their things a few times, but they all ran away screaming when they saw his face.”

Itto couldn’t help but get swept up into the story too as Yoimiya began gesturing animatedly, using her hands to describe what was going on.

“The humans were all very terrified of the two friends, you see, it was a time of great strife among their community and they didn’t trust each other, much less the oni who looked very different from them; so they would curse or throw beans at him if he got too close to the village.”

“That’s not fair!” Matsuzaka cried outraged, leaping to his feet, “They shouldn’t be mean just because of something stupid like that!”

The other two nodded sternly.

“Ah, ah,” the storyteller wagged her finger in his direction and shook her head, “Remember how you all were afraid of Mister Itto when he first came to Inazuma?”

“You thought he was the Great Mujina Yokai, here to steal you away from your homes, didn’t you?”

Itto snorted and the children flushed guiltily; Matsuzaka sat back down without protest.

“Fear makes people do stupid things,” Yoimiya continued kindly, jumping back into the story, “–and the Red Oni knew this, so he would never hold it against them when they rejected his friendship. But he never gave up trying to win them over either.”

“One day, the Blue Oni had just about enough of watching his friend get constantly rejected and devised a plan to help him gain the humans’ trust. I’ll pretend to attack the village, he said, and you stop me. The Blue Oni knew that humans loved heroes more than they feared them, and smartly decided to take advantage of this for his friend’s benefit.”

“A terrible plan if you ask me–“ Itto interrupted, snarling, he knew how the rest of the story went and couldn’t help himself but the kids shushed him immediately.

“So they executed the plan, and it worked!” She didn’t falter, much to their delight.

“The Blue Oni stomped his way into the town and began burning down a few houses, taking care not to hurt any of the people on the way, of course. The Red Oni pretended to intervene and chase his friend all the way back up the mountain, finally earning the approval of the humans. Once he returned, they brought him into their homes and celebrated his victory by feeding him and bringing him gifts to show their thanks, eagerly accepting his invitations to come over as soon as possible! In fact, the Red Oni became so popular that even other villages heard of his brave exploits and humans journeyed all the way to the mountain just to meet him!”

Itto furrowed his brows; this version was a little different from what he’d grown up hearing. Yoimiya caught his eye and winked, as if they shared some kind of secret.

“That’s great!”

“Good for him!”

“But wait– what happened to the Blue Oni?” Saika asked suddenly, looking up at the storyteller.

“Excellent question!” Yoimiya replied cheerily, not missing a beat, “Well since the Red Oni had so many friends coming over he moved into a new cave, with a super secret entrance that only a few people knew about. He wasn’t as fond of humans as his friend, preferring to sit inside and read instead, so he spent the rest of his days like that, happy to see that the Red Oni was happy too.”

“But they still stayed friends?” Saika pressed, leaning forward.

“Forever and ever!” She affirmed, soothing the little girl’s troubled expression by adding, “They never stopped being friends, no matter what! The End!”

“Now– time for the results! Whose story was better?”

The children turned each other excitedly, ready to discuss the stories and give their final verdict.

“Hey, wait a minute!“ Itto interrupted again, now he was sure there must be some kind of mistake.

“That’s not how it MMPFH–“

Yoimiya was on him immediately, covering his mouth with her hands to stop him from saying anymore. He nearly toppled over with surprise at her action, but caught himself just in time, regaining his balance just long enough to hear her whisper-shout Don’t into his ear. He met her alarmed eyes with borderline confusion that steadily bled into understanding.

Iwao, Saika and Matsuzaka gave them a weird look but didn’t think much of it, more invested in debating the victor instead. After a few tense seconds, during which she still refused to take her hands off his face, the children came to a decision.

“Yoimiya won this round,” Iwao declared seriously, the other two nodding alongside him, “Mister-Itto’s story was good too but hers was a little bit better.”

“MMPFH!” The half-oni pleaded his case, but his captor beamed a brilliant white smile and mercilessly shooed them away.

“Well, now that’s settled, you children better be heading back to your parents. It’s getting dark and you don't want to miss the fireworks show, do you?”

The children exchanged a startled glance and looked up to see the red sun setting into the horizon.

“Buh-bye, Mister-Itto! Bye, Yoimiya!”

As the three waved their goodbyes and ran home, Itto shot a sideways glance at Yoimiya, who waved back happily, completely unaware that her other hand was dangerously close to his demon-teeth.

“Precious little things aren’t they?” She smiled, watching Saika’s head disappear past the green outcropping.

Itto pretended to bite her arm, playfully nipping at the edge of her fingers with his fangs and she yelped and jumped backwards, more out of shock than pain.

“Don’t be such a sore loser, Arataki-san!”

“Yeah, yeah. Ya got me today Sparkie, but it won’t be so easy next time.”

“You say that every time, and still haven’t managed to beat me once,” Yoimiya stuck out her tongue but he frowned in return, his mind still on the story.

“Why’d ya lie to ‘em anyway?” He asked, uncharacteristically serious for once, “It doesn’t end like that, y’know.”

“Is it really lying if I just happen to forget a few small details here and there?” She joked, still bouncing on the balls of her feet, but slowed down a little when he looked away, his arm subconsciously tightening on the hilt of his mace.

“Arataki-san? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm,” He rumbled in assent, but his red eyes were clouded with memory.

Itto first heard the story when he was ten, sitting in grade school with all the other village kids, and had memorised the way it had ended.

The truth was that once the Red Oni gained the humans’ trust, they declared him the saviour of their village and would rely on him for everything. He helped them out at first, feeling guilty about the broken homes, but soon found himself unable to leave the villagers at all; there was always more work, always more guilt and always someone left to help.

One day, when he’d found a little time for himself, he snuck away and up the mountain to the cave he shared, only to find it dusty, like no one had lived there for days. A letter awaited him on their little table and once he’d read it, the Red Oni couldn’t stop crying.

The letter was from the Blue Oni, it said: Hello, Old Friend. You have not been back in days so I hope this finds you in good health. I have decided to go on a journey far, far north and I pray you will not come looking for me when I do. You finally have the love of the humans, which you so greatly deserve, but love is a fickle thing and I fear you may lose it if you’re seen with me again; the Evil One. Do not worry for me, I shall manage as I always have, but I hope it’s not selfish of me to ask that you keep me in your memory still. I shall always be thinking of you too. Sincerely, Your Friend.

Itto remembered the way everyone around him either erupted into tears, or gaped around in dazed confusion, like they couldn’t fully grasp what was happening.

Even his teacher had looked a little misty-eyed, dabbing at her cheeks with a white napkin, but he knew at once that none of them truly understood what the story meant. Sacrifices couldn’t change the past. The Red Oni only had their respect so long as he could protect the humans.

He involuntarily narrowed his eyes. Monsters were only loved as long as they were useful.

“Itto?” A feather-light touch on his forearm slipped him out of the memory, and he found himself blinking as two gold eyes, like moons, looked up at him from under a head of choppy blonde hair.

Yoimiya wrinkled her nose, stood up and bumped his shoulder with her hip pointedly so she could sit beside him. He obediently scooted to the side to make space for her and she gave him a small smile as she took her place. The once-pink sky now bruised a quiet shade of blue and a faint hum of anticipation hung in the air. The fireworks show would start soon.

Only when Yoimiya leaned her head against his forearm did Itto realise she’d been speaking.

“–didn’t want to spoil their fun,” she sighed, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, “They didn’t need to know about all the sad bits with everything that’s already going on. The vision hunt decree’s got a lot of folks down and confused, it’s a miracle these kids haven’t lost their energy in the fuss.”

“Huh.” Itto raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought of it like that.

“And besides-” she peeked up at him mischievously, “-who’s to say the story doesn’t end there anyway?”

“It doesn’t!” Itto puffed, insistent, “It ends when the Red Oni finds the letter, even an idiot could tell ya that much.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Yoimiya made a face and reached out to poke his cheek, “Don’t be so bullish, Arataki-san, use your imagination! Isn’t there any other ending you can think of?”

He let her prod at his face as he pondered the question; this was a normal occurrence between the two of them.

He’d challenge her to a duel, she’d find some roundabout way to best him, and then she’d go on to break all boundaries between them like they were best friends, even though he’d only known her for a few months at most.

When Itto had first arrived in the Hanamizaka District in Inazuma, the locals had been wary to say the least. If seeing an oni was rare, seeing a half-human one was even rarer, and he couldn’t hide the glaring red horns peeking out of his stark silver hair, though the horrified stares he garnered grew with each time he came out in public.

Not that he would either way– Itto had leaned into the half-demon persona with gusto; leaving the red birthmarks on his face, chest and arms on full display and only making the occasional attempt to tame his wild mane– which brought its own set of problems.

Vendors would run from him when he tried to buy food, tripping over their carts in fear; priestesses would avert their eyes and pray to the Electro Archon for salvation and even the guards on patrol had a wary hand on their blades every time he passed, like they were waiting for him to snap and attack.

He was used to it. Though born and brought up in Inazuma, he’d been outcasted for his heritage most of his life, to the point where the gasps of shock no longer bothered him. They would all change their tune soon enough.

It was the same in every district, the locals would be horrified by his presence until they saw him punishing a wicked landlord or catching a bandit or defying some other injustice they’d been putting up with, and then the tables would turn instantly; he’d be hailed as a hero.

Itto soon disregarded the opinions of people around him completely and let his strong moral compass do the talking– the culprits would take one look at his glowing yellow vision and the club slung over his shoulder and would admit defeat almost immediately.

Unfortunately, he lost his vision right after that so it made the aforementioned talking, among other things, a lot more difficult.

He’d challenged the general of the Tenryou Commission, Kujou Sara, to a duel and got his ass handed to him; she’d taken his pride and his power, refusing to respond to his demands for a rematch and leaving him with bottled up frustration that had him using his fists to settle matters instead, sending him to jail more and more often.

That was where he’d first met Yoimiya.

“Arataki-san? Did you fall asleep?”

Itto opened one eye to find her unabashedly pulling his cheek now, any pretense of decorum between them forgotten. Though it seemed that everyone else in Inazuma had inherited an intense fear of demon-kind, that particular gene seemed to have slipped the Naganohara heir this generation.

Yoimiya was one of the few brave or foolish, (he’d yet to decide), ones that would voluntarily spend time with him, who wasn’t part of his gang– though not for lack of trying on his part.

“Yoi-chan–“ He began, but she already knew what was coming.

“No, Arataki-san, I’m not going to join your little club,” she huffed and let go of his face immediately.

“Gang. The Arataki Gang. And why not––“

“Because,” she looked up at the sky expectantly, no doubt waiting for the fireworks to begin.

“–some of us have actual jobs around here.”

“I do have a job–“

“Beetle-fighting is not a real a real job, Arataki-san,” Yoimiya laughed, nearly tumbling backwards.

He caught her with his palm, helping her regain her balance without even having to move his other shoulder but squinted suspiciously when she sat closer than she had before.

“Thanks,” she smiled, and Itto’s frown deepened.

Was she really not afraid of him? Not even a little?

“Eat any pickled plums lately, Arataki-san?” She teased as he leaned a little closer, looking for the tell tale widening of the eyes, the sudden flinch of her shoulders as she realised how huge he was compared to her. How his claws could shred her to bits with one swipe.

Itto waited for the gasp of fear and shock that he’d become accustomed to hearing his whole life.

Yoimiya only blinked at him once, twice, in confusion, then leaned forward and pushed his bangs back from his face. They were close enough that he could see the deep brown undertone of her gold eyes, when she reached out and touched his red horns.

Now any self-respecting demon with half a brain could tell you that under no conditions whatsoever must you touch an oni’s horns. Not only are they one of the most sensitive parts of the oni’s body, the loss of one is akin to the loss of a limb.

Some demons even go so far as to wrap their horns with cloth to hide them from any unnecessary stimuli, but of course, Itto had never seen any reason to. It’s not like he had people lining up to touch his head– even the children had only just begun to warm up to him. But, of course, Yoimiya hadn’t the faintest idea.

“Arataki-san,” she said as he gaped at her in surprise, “Your face is heating up. Do you have a fever?”

Itto jumped back like she’d scalded him, cheeks aflame, trying maintain a semblance of his swagger but found his thoughts unraveling as she eyed him micheviously instead.

Yoimiya had been called a lot of things by the citizens of Inazuma– a chatterbox, a messy eater, a delinquent, a doll, even the occasional jail-breaker– but she’d never ever been mistaken for stupid. The girl was as bright as the fireworks she set off on a regular basis, and he’d found out this the hard way.

“Or could it be..” Yoimiya grinned and moved closer but Itto scrambled backwards at the sudden proximity, trying not to think about the sensory overload: how her hair smelled like citrus and gunpowder, or how her lips, her soft, pink, entirely human lips were inches from his own, or how he was fully and thoroughly screwed now that she’d figured out his weakness.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Don’t tell me it’s because you’re..”

BOOM!

She trailed away as the first firework burst in the sky, sending gold flakes of light sparkling across the midnight blue.

As his cheeks cooled down, Itto watched Yoimiya shift towards the sound as more and more explosions joined the original one, now in colours of green and red, her eyes glazing over at the blinding display. It was another thing about her that left him puzzled; despite never being at a loss for words, the only time he’d seen her fall quiet was when she was watching the fireworks.

No matter how many times she’d seen them before, no matter who she was seeing them with, Itto could see how transfixed she was by the little bursts of light that faded away into the vast darkness that swept over them, as though there was a story written in the smoke that only she could read.

“Yoi-chan,” He mumbled, but just as he’d expected, the Naganohara heir barely batted an eyelash, too lost in her own world to notice her friend.

Itto sighed and looked down at his hands; the stark red tattoos banding his knuckles, the claw-like nails, and thought about what she’d said. Isn’t there any other ending you can think of?, she’d asked, genuine and curious in a way that got on his nerves for reasons he couldn’t explain.

He thought he knew how humans operated; they loved anything that was of use to them and respected anything that instilled fear in them.

Itto had no desire to be useful to anyone. It was why he refused to get a job in the first place–– he wasn’t some kind of arse-kissing, mercenary-for-hire, though he’d met many a sleazy businessman who needed to be told that repeatedly, with fists. So he settled for being a nomadic warrior instead.

He’d earn their respect with his fearsome displays of justice and make his mark his own way, The Itto Way–– going so far as to graciously recruit members into the Arataki Gang so they could fully appreciate all that his protection had to offer.

Even Kujo Tengu had a begrudging respect for his strength, he was sure of it, (though she still refused to respond to his challenges for a rematch).

He thought his philosophy was ironclad– until Yoimiya came along and shattered it to pieces. Not only did she not fear him to the point of ridiculousness; she didn’t try to push him into doing her chores with her either; in fact, he suspected that she actively blew off work just to partake in their competitions!

To add insult to injury, Itto doubted she even considered him a real rival for the children’s affections– wouldn’t she show a little more persistence if she wasn’t merely humouring him?

But then again, that was always Yoimiya’s style. She approached everything with such sincere recklessness that you’d really have to stop and wonder how much of it was real, and how much was an act. Not that he’d ever wondered, of course. Her recklessness had gotten him out of jail, after all.

It happened on a day like every other one he’d had since he lost his vision.

He’d gotten into a fight with a particularly cruel landlord and found himself on the wrong end of the Tenryou Commissioner’s katana both in a single day, (talk about bad luck), when he’d first met Yoimiya.

The guards had tossed him into the nearest holding cell, not even bothering with cuffs this time - they knew as well as he did that he had nowhere else to go anyway - and spent the rest of the afternoon getting drunk over a mahjong table.

The Shogunate’s iron tight influence over Inazuma meant that anyone who caused even the slightest infraction was either immediately banished or executed by the Raiden herself, so there was no one left to line its jail cells except petty pickpockets or walking nuisances who dared to bare a little teeth, like him.

Itto rolled his eyes as the two foot soldiers snored away into the fading evening light, just beginning to get comfortable on his own makeshift bed of rope and hay when a loud clink! resounded throughout the room and a he turned to see a tiny blonde girl swear under her breath as she knocked down more tiles across the floorboards, sending the tiny rectangular pieces skittering through his wooden bars.

He remembered wondering three things that day - why this strange girl looked so familiar, what that bauble in her hair was, a hanging lollipop-like ornament resembling a dango, and wether she’d let him eat it just to be sure - as she carefully placed a few of the mahjong pieces back on the board.

“C’mon Yoimiya, we don’t have time for this!”

Itto hadn’t noticed she was accompanied by another person till then, with short, shaved hair and the nondescript grey robes of a street vendor; the man was frantically gesturing towards the exit.

It seemed that a jailbreak was taking place.

“Coming, Hanshirou, just let me get this one–” Yoimiya called back, reaching for the tiles that had fallen under the table. As the man, Hanshirou, fretted to himself and tried not lose temper, Itto got an answer to one of his questions.

“Hey! Hey, you–– Naganohara girl!” He said quickly but quietly, sliding a game piece through the bars, so as to not startle her. She whirled around in surprise as it landed at the base of her ankle, and in typical Yoimiya fashion, shifted towards the unusual instead of away from it.

She crept to the front of his cell and peered through the wooden framework curiously.

“How ‘bout ya bust me outta here too,” He proposed when she was close enough that he could see the red tattoos on her forearm, “–and, in exchange, I’ll owe ya one.”

“Whaddya say? Sound like a deal?”

“Your eyes,” Yoimiya said softly, cocking her head to one side, oddly transfixed.

Itto bristled.

He wasn’t unused to people pointing out the traits of his half demon heritage, hair and eyes especially; but it was always the way they did it that irked him. Their features lined with fear as they took in the silver and red, like they couldn’t believe it existed. Like they believed he shouldn’t. But the Naganohara heir had other intentions.

“And? What about ‘em?” He tried not to growl, crossing his arms defensively.

“They’re like firework shells,” she replied, undeterred, pressing her face against the bars to get a better look.

“They’re.. what?”

Itto resisted the urge to lean closer to make sure he heard her right.

“Firework shells? What’re ya on about, Sparkie?”

The unprompted nickname seemed to shake her out of whatever daze she’d been in. Yoimiya blinked in surprise, gasped and briskly turned around to wave at a horrified looking Hanshirou, who looked like he was about to faint.

“Wait a second!” Itto huffed as Yoimiya placed the final mahjong tile on the table between the two unconscious soldiers and turned to leave, “Don’t ya want anythin’ from me?”

“A favour from The Oni Sumo King ain’t nothin’ to turn yer nose up at, y’know!”

“No thanks,” she shrugged carelessly, not even pretending to consider his offer.

“I’m all out of requests at the moment. But if you need my help that badly, Arataki-san, I’d be willing to play you for it.”

Itto was so surprised by her answer that he forgot to ask how she knew his name.

“Fine,” he accepted resentfully; he would’ve corrected her except she was right. Itto did need her help, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. Playing for it seemed less humiliating than begging anyway.

“What’re we playin’?”

“Rock-paper-scissors!” She grinned.

They played for hours straight.

Round after round, until the last of the evening’s light bled into claustrophobic night, neither of them getting close to victory in the game meant to settle petty children’s squabbles.

Hanshirou had slipped away by their twenty-seventh game, and a pregnant moon had risen through the high windows, bathing the happy-go-lucky girl and the frustrated half-oni in its dreamy white glow.

A moon much like the one that embellished the sky today; this time a dull, monochromatic backdrop for the rainbow of light that was steadily being punctuated by sharp, sudden bursts of sound.

BOOM!

Itto released a breath and leaned back against the rocky wall, as the sound of the fireworks nudged him out of the memory, and back into real life.

He did end up losing that final match to her (35 to 44), but she’d still unlatched the door to his cell anyway, reasoning, with a wink, that anyone who was willing to play janken with her for four full hours, couldn’t be that much of a villain.

This kindness had, of course, irritated him to no end, so he’d hunted Yoimiya down the very next morning and demanded a rematch. She’d been surrounded by children then, showing them some new toy she’d dug out from back of her shop– they’d been afraid at first, but took a liking to him when Yoimiya beat him again, (this time a pitiful 75 to 4).

Thus began their legendary rivalry for the children’s attention, although, if he were being honest with himself, it really should be renamed Arataki Itto’s Longest Losing Streak in Existence. To a girl who had no trouble winning, no less.

Itto tried not to sulk as he shot a sideways glance at the girl in question; Yoimiya hadn’t torn her gaze away from the fireworks display all this time.

Though it had been a few weeks since the start of their unlikely friendship, Itto found himself unwilling to believe she didn’t need anything from him.

Everyone always needed something from him. It was a fact; wether it be protection or strength, or even just a picture. That was just how humans were.

Why else would she have let him out of jail? Or bothered to show up for yet another sour-plum eating contest, four days in a row. Why else would she bother hanging around him at all?

Whaddya really want from me, Sparkie?

He hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud until the explosions finally faded away and Yoimiya turned around.

“To be your friend, Arataki-san,” she said softly, her perpetual smile strangely sad under the moonlight.

“If you’ll have me.”

The abrupt silence gently sloughed into the soft hiss of cicadas, and rustle of wind on branches as nature took over the symphony with its own, unique orchestra.

Something odd happened to Itto then.

Maybe it was the way she was staring right through him, or how the absence of fireworks left a visible vacancy in her eyes; hell, it could’ve just been because he’d never seen the Naganohara heir look anything short of bright and bubbly–– but an inexplicable sense of guilt pricked his heart.

The buzzing feeling traveled from his chest to his knees, and then right back up to his stomach where it settled, burning a hole straight through his intestines.

He’d been so sure that she had some kind of ulterior motive in befriending him, that he hadn’t realised his suspicions were slowly pushing her away. Granny was right. He could be a real jerk sometimes.

The half-oni sighed, stood up and held out an arm.

Yoimiya glanced up at him perplexed.

“You’re really bad at it then,” He huffed when she didn’t take it immediately.

“Arataki-san this, Arataki-san that–– if I didn’t know any better I’d think ya only met me yesterday, Sparkie.”

The fire in Yoimiya’s eyes flared as the meaning behind his words clicked.

She took his outstretched palm in hers and he pulled her up.

“You know, if you don’t like your name you should just change it yourself– AHH!” Yoimiya began to tease, but shrieked when he bent forward and picked her up by her thighs instead, hoisting her whole frame over one of his shoulders in one fell swoop.

“Put me down,” she laughed as she steadied herself against him, but Itto only shook his head and supported her with one arm, turning to point out the sky with the other.

BOOM!

Yoimiya gasped as the fireworks show resumed, relaxing her grip on his triceps to reach out her hand to the night instead, like she was trying to catch the glittering light between her soot smudged fingertips.

Itto watched her fall silent just as quickly as before and resisted the urge to grin. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the annual light show but watching them with Yoimiya wasn’t half bad.

She absentmindedly placed her other hand on the top of his head, near the base of his horns and he felt a flicker of electricity pass through him, prickling his spine and shaking his passenger in the process.

“Don’t touch the horns,” Itto grouched when she looked down at him in confusion. Her eyes sparkled wickedly then and he wondered if it was morally acceptable to fling her off the cliff right then and there.

“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish,” she laughed again, but obediently moved her hand back down to his neck, much to his surprise.

“Hey, it’s not my fault! Oni horns are extremely sensitive, alright?”

“Alright, alright. Horns are off limits. Got it.”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, Yoimiya whispered into his ear.

“Itto.. san?”

“Hm,” He rumbled in assent.

“No, I was just wondering if that’s what you wanted me to call you,” she replied, pulling on his earlobe impishly.

“Or what about.. Taki.. san? Oh I know– Taki-kun!”

Itto felt his face (and his ears) flush, even though her hands were safely away from his horns, and mumbled something incomprehensible into the night air. She leaned over to hear him better.

“No I’m not going to call you Arataki Burning Passion for Battle Itto,” Yoimiya snorted, “It’s too long. And it’s not cute at all, Itto-san.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Itto rolled his eyes, “Just don’t sweat it with all that Arataki-san business. I ain’t my old man, alright?”

“Okay, what about.. hm..”

BOOM!

Itto didn’t need to look up to see that Yoimiya was once again lost in the fireworks.

Darkness burned away under the onslaught of tiny silver and gold bursts, briefly turning their night to day, and he felt his sensitive demon eyes shirk against the sudden flash.

The sparks fizzled out and fell, covering the sky in a mock meteor shower, each flicker leaving behind a burning white trail and for a second he imagined the white hot light raining all around them, sputtering out into tiny glowing fireflies as they fell.

It was gone as suddenly as it arrived, the blinding flare, and Itto found himself blinking spots out of his vision as the Naganohara Fireworks Show fittingly came to an end.

“Hey, Sparkie,” he began, gently nudging the girl atop him out of her own daze, “Hey, I thought about what ya said.”

“About.. the name?” She mumbled confusedly, rubbing stars out of her eyes. “About the story.”

“The story?” Yoimiya tilted her head.

“Yeah, the story. ‘Bout how ya said it didn’t have to end like it did?”

“Oh! The Oni story,” she smacked her own forehead, “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all this time?”

“No,” Itto lied, looking anywhere but up.

Yoimiya narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Anyway, I think I figured it out.”

“Does the Red Oni stay with the humans and have fun forever?” She volunteered, only half-joking.

Itto shook his head.

“He goes searching for the Blue Oni, and brings him home.”

“That’s great,” Yoimiya said kindly, stifling a yawn, “Good for.. (hah).. good for him.. he deserves it.”

Itto nodded, almost to himself.

It was an idea he’d been toying with for a while now. If he were the Red Oni– well, let’s just say the story would’ve gone much more differently if he were in it, but suffice to say he definitely wouldn’t have let his friend sacrifice himself. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even let his enemies sacrifice themselves for him; Itto was very anti-sacrifice all around.

“But you know-” Yoimiya mused, “-I think the humans might be a little jealous if they have to share the Red Oni now.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it Ara– um, Itto-san,” She said, stumbling over the unfamiliar moniker, “If the Blue Oni comes back, the Red Oni’s probably going to spend all his time with his best friend.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And, wouldn’t you be jealous if your best friend didn’t spend time with you anymore?”

Itto considered this.

“Nah, not really,” he admitted after a few seconds of deep thought, “Ushi usually comes back home at the end of the day so I ain’t too worried ‘bout the little guy.”

“Little guy?” She raised an eyebrow, “You’re talking about that tiny ox that follows you around, aren’t you? That doesn’t count, Itto-san.”

“For your information,” the half oni crossed his arms, “Ushi’s a Bull, who also happens to be the Third Foundin’ Member of the Arataki Gang and my best friend.”

“Right,” She rolled her eyes, “But I’m talking about a real person. Sort of like... hmm– oh! Like General Kujou Sara, for example.”

“Kujou Tengu?!” Itto replied, scandalised, “We’re not friends, we’re rivals.”

“We’re rivals,” Yoimiya gave him a pointed look and he resisted the urge to immediately correct her by saying that it was different.

Kujou Tengu was cold where Yoimiya was warm; distant where the latter hadn’t fully grasped the concept. It was different. He just didn’t know how to put it into words.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled instead and she shook her head pityingly.

“Poor, poor Itto-san,” Yoimiya teased, petting his hair, “Imagine if you found out that Kujou-san hadn’t been responding to your challenges because she was too busy fighting someone else.”

Itto jaw twitched.

While it was true enough that he’d been clamouring for a rematch against the general of the Tenryou Commission, he had a strong suspicion that she did not share his sentiment. Still, the thought of the countless noticeboards he’d desecrated in order to get her attention had his hackles raising– surely it couldn’t be that hard to make time for another battle with such a worthy opponent as himself.

Yoimiya’s eyes sparked, catching the minute shift in facial expression and mistaking it for something else entirely.

“Aww, it’s alright,” she grinned, “There’s no harm in feeling a little jealous now and then.”

“No idea what yer on about, Sparkie,” he squinted, trying not to recall Kujou Tengu’s sharp gaze or her infuriating smile as she rubbed her victory in his face.

He wasn’t jealous; if anything he was tired of being disrespected by someone who, in all fairness, should’ve been part of his gang but settled for being the Raiden’s lapdog instead.

“I’d be jealous if it were me.”

Itto almost didn’t hear Yoimiya mumble the words into his hair at first.

He waited a beat but she didn’t elaborate.

“Ya would?” He prodded finally, trying to tilt his head back to see her face, in vain.

“Mhm,” he could feel her breath on his scalp, “If the Red Oni suddenly left without explanation and spent all his time with the Blue Oni, I think I’d be terribly jealous of her.”

Her?

“I’d feel like she stole my friend away from me, y’know?”

Silence bloomed between the two after that– a silence that was different from all their other ones, now filled with mystery and the promise of something unsaid. Itto had a faint suspicion that Yoimiya wasn’t talking about the story at all, and for the first time since he’d met her the half-oni wondered how well he really knew the Naganohara heir.

For all of her playacting and childish games, the fireworks expert had never worn her heart on her sleeve the way he did, and it hadn’t occurred to him to ask why, till this very moment.

But before Itto could open his mouth and come up with a response that wasn’t one syllable long, Yoimiya laughed and smacked him on the top of his head, sending a mild shock through his body.

“Oh, look at me running my mouth off like an old spinster,” She huffed, the smile returning to her voice, “Thoma did always harp on and on about how I had no filter. Guess I should’ve taken his advice when I had the chance, huh?”

“Listen, Sparkie,” Itto began, unsure what any part of their conversation had to do with Inazuma’s most well-known Fixer, but she only laughed again, and gestured for him to put her down.

He reluctantly leaned forward so she could easily slip off of his shoulders and onto the same rock they’d been sharing before, and Yoimiya stretched as she did so, her nimble arms extending with fox-like grace.

The tattoo on her forearm rippled with the motion and Itto found his eyes drawn to the single koi fish intertwined with branches of cherry blossoms, all stained a dark, inky red– suddenly realising that he had no idea what the meaning was behind it all.

In all the time they’d known one another he’d learned much about Hanamizaka’s best pyrotechnician; how she took her ramen (with ridiculous amounts of chili sauce), what her favourite hobby was (fireworks), where she hid out when she wanted to get away from people (the beach)– but next to nothing about her past. Not even how she got her vision (though he must’ve told her about his own more times than he could count.)

There were still so many things he didn’t know about his friend.

“Yoi-chan,” he tried again, but she was already bounding away from him, across the plain, up the sakura tree, her quick feet finding purchase in the elegant, brown bark as she hoisted herself up to the top of the trunk.

“You should get up here,” She waved excitedly, “The view is great!”

“Wait a minute! We gotta talk!” He called back, bending over to straighten his mace, which had somehow fallen over and rolled into a nearby bush in all the excitement.

Something smacked the back of his head and he looked up in confusion to find Yoimiya perched higher than she was before, flicking a small, round object at him.

“Hurry up, Itto-san!” She giggled, tossing another one.

He caught it with ease this time, so she stuck her tongue out at him and leapt to her feet to resume her ascent. Itto opened his palm to reveal the tiny, unique shape of a cherry blossom seed taunting him.

“Would ya listen to me for a second, Sparkie?” He squinted upwards, letting it fall from his palm harmlessly, but Yoimiya’s bright orange kimono was already disappearing into the pale pink cluster of flowers.

“I’ll listen to whatever you’ve gotta say when you catch up to me, slowpoke!”

Itto waited a few seconds before he began to climb, straining his ears to hear the faint sound of her laughter that seemed to be coming from all around him. As he heaved himself over the first couple of boughs he felt the wood crack into splinters under his nails and winced.

He wasn’t fond of tree-scaling for many reasons, usually because he felt like the tree wasn’t too fond of him either. Yoimiya had laughed and laughed when he told her that the trees here were sentient. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me that the Raiden Shogun isn’t the Shogun at all.

The view gave way to an endless cliff on one side - a result of the tree growing out of the rocky outcropping no doubt, which was punctuated by a twenty foot drop into a shallow pool of water - and the distinct, triangular roofs of the Inazuman buildings on the other, glossy under the milky sheen of starlight.

Itto climbed higher and higher, chasing flashes of telltale orange he’d glimpse once in a while, but found himself face to snout with a baby kitsune instead.

He knelt, so as to not scare the creature and watched as it silently opened its big purple eyes and gave him a once-over. Though Itto wasn’t unfamiliar with the foxes - they huddled in the wilder parts of Inazuma and occasionally snuck around the back alleys of the city - he’d never taken a liking to their more secretive natures, even when Granny Oni made him place offerings with her.

If you ever see a raincloud burst while the sun still shines, it’s a sure sign of a kitsune’s wedding, she’d warned him when he’d tried to scare them away once, So I’d try not to anger them if I were you Itto-chan, or they could ruin the perfectly good day you’re having.

He’d assumed it was all superstitious nonsense, like breaking combs or throwing beans, but looking into the oddly intelligent eyes of the animal in front of him, he felt the stirrings of doubt in his stomach. Go on, he prodded mentally, make it rain.

The fox pawed at its ear for a second before letting out a deep sniff and hopping off to a higher branch. He watched it escape, moonlight slicking the path behind it as it ran, and tried not to feel disappointed.

Before he could really appreciate the peace and quiet, however, the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking came from above him.

“Itto-san?”

Itto looked up in horror to find Yoimiya balancing precariously on a thin bough and clutching the branch nearest to her like a lifeline, mirth steadily draining from her face as the one under her feet let out another dangerous crack!.

“Yoi-chan?!”

She caught sight of him then, her gold eyes wide with terror, and managed to muster up a frightened smile.

“I think I might’ve gone too far,” she joked but her voice trembled as she said it, betraying her feelings.

Itto was already on his feet, steadying himself against the tree trunk as he kicked off his sandals.

“Jump!” He yelled, arms outstretched as another crack split the night air in two.

Yoimiya hesitated.

A thousand expressions seemed to flit across her face at once; facets of fear, panic, surprise, each overlapping the other, a Venn diagram of uncertainty mapping itself out on her features as she considered potentially taking both of them down with her fall.

A sudden plop! echoed into the night as a raindrop landed squarely on her scalp, making the decision for her. Then another. And another. The sky was filled with soft hiss of rain in a matter of seconds, drowning out the sounds of the night in favour of covering everything with its wet embrace.

“What’re ya waitin’ for?” Itto roared, the sense of urgency striking him red-hot and fast, like metal in a forge. Rain ran down on him, dampening his hair and pricking his skin. Somewhere in the distance, he imagined the curled up frame of a ginger fox, giggling to itself. Ask only what you wish to receive.

“You gotta jump now!”

“Swear you’ll catch me.”

He gaped up at her, bewildered, wondering if this too was some lame attempt at a last-minute jest, but Yoimiya’s expression was beseeching and wholly, undeniably serious.

“Whaddya think I’m doin’, Sparkie?” He motioned for her to let go of the branch and for a short second he thought she might.

But she pulled back almost immediately.

“I can’t!” She cried, clinging tighter. Itto felt his heart leap to his throat as the twig in her hands snapped instantly, sending a domino effect of breaking sounds across the whole tree.

“Itto-san?”

The terror on Yoimiya’s face doubled as she balanced on the weak branch, both arms out like a tightrope walker, her breaths coming in short bursts, one wrong move away from toppling twenty feet down into a shallow, watery grave.

He moved to the very edge of his own branch, ignoring the rain that streaked down his face relentlessly, crouching a little, so she’d feel like he was closer than he actually was.

“I swear I’ll catch ya, Sparkie. You have my word,” he nodded holding out his arm comfortingly.

“Don’t ’cha trust me?”

Yoimiya took a deep breath.

And jumped.

There was a brief second between her leaping off the branch, (it gave one final, feeble crack before shattering under foot), and her falling into his arms that seemed to last all eternity.

Time stretched, wrapped and melted around them all at once, so all he could remember was the hush as the rain quieted all around them, the few metres of distance between his skin and hers, before it rapidly accelerated forward then he was hugging her, holding her, pressing her very cold, very alive body onto his and taking giant heaving breaths.

As Itto steadied himself so they both wouldn’t have to suffer a less deadly but equally painful landing at the base of the tree, Yoimiya wiped away the rain and tears that had mixed with one another on her face, and took a seat in an attempt to quell the shaking in her legs.

The moon had wedged itself between a slit in the clouds, so that only a sliver of its light was able to illuminate their surroundings. Itto took a seat beside her, letting the adrenaline wear off under the cooling rain that dripped all around them.

“Itto-san,” He turned to her curiously.

Yoimiya gave him a small smile.

“I think I’m finally ready to listen now.”

5 notes · View notes

bluezenzennie · 1 year

Text

To heal, is to take your time.

Pairing: Irmo/Estë/Kalla ( oc )

Characters: Irmo, Estë, Kalla, Námo, mentioned: Ruinë ( @edensrose 's muse ), Melkor, Mairon, Nienna, Aurëlius ( My other muse ).

Synopsis: After the war of wrath, Estë and Irmo keep a close eye on Kalla's continuous self isolation and silence, which seems to have no end.

They decide to take matters into their own hands, when nobody else does, and make a deal with Námo to send them to Lorien, so they can take care of them until they're fully healed.

Themes: Angst, Hurt comfort.

Wordcount: 20k

"They've been so quiet, my dreamer." Estë murmurs, her soft breath fanning against Irmo's exposed neck, as the two of them cling to one another in a tight embrace.

"We should seek them out, speak with them."

Another hopeless attempt is made to push Irmo to talk, and help her decide, but he seems so lost, it's impossible to pull him out of his thoughts nevermind how hard she tries.

The silence is heavy when even Estë grows quiet, and all she does is sway around the fëantur in her arms gently for another minute or so, before he finally, finally, decides to speak his mind.

"I fear that we'll lose them..." That single sentence, that passes through Irmo's plush lips is quiet, soft, and full of an unmistakable grief, that swallows him whole and threatens to claw at his insides, to tear through flesh and break bone, to create a nest, a void of sadness, within his usually beautiful and vibrant fëa.

It still bore his beautiful song, yet there were changes to it - a faint hymn, so full of sorrow and pain, and, it only seemed to grow the longer he held back his emotions.

"We won't lose them if we confront them. Our little lily needs our help." Soft and dainty fingers dry tear stained cheeks and eyes. One thumb brushes over a tired eyelid whilst the other strokes the white haired vala's cheek carefully, before Estë continues her best to pull him out of this state.

She doesn't remember the last time she saw him this shattered and broken - had she ever?

"You have to understand this my love, we can't keep fearing for the worst and not take action, the worst will be the outcome if we do not... I am not as knowledgeable on topics like these as your sister, perhaps... but what I do know is, that we have to be brave and take them with us here - letting them rot in the halls of Mandos until they've fully healed, will do no good."

"I cannot look at them when I was among the valar who chose them to go shelter the wounded and scared in middle-earth." Irmo whimpers shakily.

He claws at his wife's dress and doubles over, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"They begged, cried, did everything in their power to prove that this was not a mission fit for them- and yet we sent them away, only for them to come back mute, emotionless and shattered. I'm ashamed of myself for ever agreeing to sending them away, I doubt Nienna is proud of making the final choice too, despite all of us agreeing it was a good idea... I think Kalla's name just popped out of her mouth during that meeting, without actually meaning to suggest them." The cracks in his usually warm and smooth voice become increasingly louder, sadness so prominent you could almost see the blue aura around his fána.

It was painful to witness him in such a despairing state, truly, but Estë grew irritated and stubborn.

She loved the man with her whole fëa and fána, she adored him to her very core, and would always love and support him unconditionally.

Which is why it hurt her so much to seem him like this.

Though perhaps blunt when she speaks again, it is by no means meant with intentions to hurt him whatsoever.

Her words come out as stern and full of emotion: "My love, if you do not stop wallowing in self pity and guilt, I will go myself and drag Kalla back here, no questions asked and I will make you talk to them, there is no way out of this. They need you, they need me, us." She moves both of her hands to cup his chin, gently removing him from her shoulder, and looking into his tear filled eyes, before placing a small kiss on his forehead.

"But Est-"

"I will not tolerate anymore excuses, Irmo. Now listen to me."

There's a long silence between the two, as Irmo lowers his head further, a small whine threatens to rumble in his throat.

Alas, he nods, listening to his wife as she resumes speaking.

"You cannot continue to do this to yourself. You are hurting yourself by letting the guilt swallow you whole- as well as they are hurting themself by isolation and complete silence. You are leaving a wound untreated, dirty and prone to infection if not tended to soon enough."

Amethyst irises move to look directly into pools of deep emerald green, that stare into his, half lidded and full of stubborn confidence.

A fond hum fills the small grove the two lovers find themself within, slithering it's way through his post-cry swollen lips- an amused, fond, and sad hum.

He leans forward to place a soft kiss upon Estë's lips, brushing them against each other before pressing them together for a short moment.

Pulling away and wiping the rest of his tears away with the long purple sleeves of his robe, a sigh escapes his nostrils as he takes a few deep breaths.

"What would I do without you, darling?" He ponders.

"Oh Irmo, a whole lot." The lady of the hurt and weary chuckles, and takes her husband's hand.

"Come now, my dreamer, hand in hand."

"Hand in hand..." Irmo mutters, inhaling a last big gulp of air before exhaling, as they begin the journey to his brother's halls.

Mandos is in chaos when the two arrive, chairs have been thrown across viridian carpets, ruined and in splinters, while vases are shattered and scattered across the floors.

Loud screaming echoes throughout the doomsman's abode, bouncing off of pillars and obsidian walls, directing themself through the rest of Mandos.

No fëar are around to be seen, and it's quiet, aside from the loud crashing ruckus echoing from the corridor to the right of the two.

They exchange worried looks and with haste, they make their way towards the chaos.

Already now do they have an idea of who it is, that is screaming their head off.

"Olothëra, I need you to calm down." Námo professionally, yet quite panickedly attempts, trying to snap Kalla out of their meltdown and reason with them.

Usually he would be calm, collected and would keep up his "stoic" facade, however, it was hard not to panic, when the small maia of his sister, had been running around and screaming on and on without giving their vocal cords a break, ruining everything piece of furniture that blocked their path, for hours on end.

It had come to a point where even he had become deeply concerned and started to feel slightly on edge.

"I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU NEED." They screech, eyes flashing with searing blue light, as they throw a vase his way, only for him to dodge it and give them a stern stare, although, the sadness behind his viridian eyes betrays him and his expression.

Kalla has never behaved like this, they've always been quiet, reserved, caring- always accepting people who need to talk, with open arms, a warm smile on their red stained lips.

Yet, now, with the intense emotions rushing through them; Anger, grief, revenge, guilt, pain- they had snapped.

After everything, bottling up and repressing their feelings, emotions and trauma- it all came tumbling down. Nobody truly knows what triggered this event.

Kalla hadn't spoken ever since their fëa had arrived in the halls of Mandos. They had but only cried or slept, and food wasn't something they interacted with much either.

The rumors of their death had been passed from hall to hall, even outside the walls of Mandos it would seem.

They whispered of Sauron kidnapping them, holding caged within the cells of angband, only to be thrown into a pit of fire by Melkor, after they had refused to crackle under his persuasion and corruption.

Those were the rumors, and what was worse? It was all the truth.

Perhaps this was why they had snapped? From discovering that the truth was out? That people now knew; they failed their mission, that they were weak and could not even keep up the duty of protecting and comforting those weaker than them.

Námo watches helplessly as they claw at the permanent scar left on their throat from years ago, when they were assaulted by the dark lord in their slumber, screaming that he had taken something from them, and how they could feel it.

They were smashing vases with dark magenta roses in them into the floor as the flashbacks of Ruinë, looking back at them with her magenta eyes, as they arrived in angband, shackled and being shoved back and forth by Melkor's followers and servants, flash before their eyes when they spot the color.

And they screamed, as loud as they possibly could, until they'd lose their voice, for all those they had failed to save.

Kalla stands in the middle of a small lounge, where fëar usually rest and collect themselves.

Crying and screeching angrily.

"IT'S MY FAULT THEY DIED- AND YOU DARE HAVE THE NERVE TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN?!"

With spasming hands, they reach out towards Námo, as if to take ahold of his robes and shake him, but pull back and pick up another chair instead, smashing it against the floor, the splinters flying to all corners of the room.

"IT'S ALL MY FAULT, I SHOULDN'T HAVE SURVIVED THAT, THEY SHOULD'VE, NOT ME, nOt mE."

They tug and rip at their white tresses, hyperventilating and grinding their teeth together as the tears continue to spill from their eyes, seemingly never ending.

They're still screaming, their voice slowly progressing into crackling and at times fading into a whisper. It's the early signs of their vocal cords giving in, after so much strain and stress.

They could fill whole oceans with their silver tears, if they wanted, and yet, it was keeping all of these memories buried deep within and never speaking out, that was the reason they ended up here today after all, getting lost in their meltdown, so full of anger and grief, and even if their muscles grew sore and began pulsing, they didn't care- if there was something they could tear apart and destroy, just to get the frustration out, they'd find it and do it.

Consequences of their actions would have to be later, they needed to let this rage out, lest they wished to combust with other unwanted episodes like these for the future to come.

They felt their heart clench and scrunch in pain, the way grief stabbed at their gut and how the anger fried their brain, the extreme emotions too much to handle, too overwhelming.

They felt like they were freefalling into the abyss, stomach hurting from the rush of the fall, the slight feeling of nausea slithering its way to their throat, itching and burning, demanding they barf up the lunch from earlier.

They didn't want to hurt anyone, they held themself strong enough to not do so, at least, not physically.

Yelled they had, at anyone who had tried getting in their way, even now at Námo, a man they have deep respect for and will always look up to, now a victim of their wrath and suppressed trauma.

They did not notice the two faces staring at them with shock standing in the doorway to the lounge.

It was a risky move to put a hand on their shoulder, Estë knew that. They easily flinch, she might receive an arm around her waist that'll push her away gently, to protect her from their anger, but to her, it was certainly better for that to happen, than to let them continue to ruin the furniture of the lounge and hurt themself even more on the shattered clay vases, that made their ankles and feet bleed.

So she reaches out, and places the hand on the maia's shoulder, hushing softly into their ear, and speaking before they can react:

"Kalla- Breathe." She demands, sternly, yet with soft undertones laced to her warm voice.

Námo's eyes snap towards the entrance of the lounge, only to meet eyes with his younger brother, who seems to be too lost in thought to speak.

Viridian eyes move back to Estë, the confusion in them evident.

When did they arrive, how did I not notice? He wonders.

Yet as a few moments pass, his eyes grow soft with relief and flutter closed as he takes a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

The storm is over.

The room grows quiet and the maia breathes in and out frantically, doing their best to steady their breaths.

Instead of pushing Estë away, or flinching, Kalla turns around and pulls her in, crying into her shoulder, all whilst weeping hoarse apologies to Námo for making his halls look as if a monster had walked in and smashed it to ruins.

They told him to lock them up for all eternity- that they did not deserve anyone's mercy nor pity for what had happened back in middle-earth.

They're clawing at Estë's dress as they cage her in a tight embrace, and despite the violent shake of their body, they manage to keep the hug tight, feeling her warmth move to their cold body.

They grip at the soft fabric of her dress, the cold and faint hands of their half transparent fána clawing into it, scared that she'll fade away if they let go. Another deep breath fills the silence of the room and ruby irises move from the oldest fëantur, to the youngest, who can't seem to find any words to share with the world, too overwhelmed.

Námo reaches out and places a careful hand in Kalla's soft white hair, ruffling it slowly, but remaining quiet even as he pulls away.

He wouldn't want to say something that could potentially trigger a relapse, sending them back into their raging meltdown.

So he decided to let Estë and his brother take over, whenever he was ready as well, and while the lady of the gentle takes care of them, the older brother moves towards the younger, placing a gentle and firm hand on his shoulder to snap him out of the state he finds himself in.

"Kalla my dearest- no, you've done nothing wrong- this is, we can fix the damages here- you did your very best protecting those creatures, elves, dwarves and mortals as well- you need not worry dear, you will not be punished."

Estë murmurs softly and sways them from side to side, unintentionally increasing their nausea.

"I think I'm going to vomit." They manage to just whisper, before the nausea surges through their system and they let go of Estë, pushing her away before turning around and vomiting on the floor, their whole body doubling over and cracking.

The wet sounds of vomit pattering against stone floor fills the silent room, alongside Kalla's uncomfortable cries as they cough up their lunch until they're done vomiting.

"Eru- I'm so sorry Námo. Oh I'm messing everything up, what would my lady think if she saw me in such a state..."

They cry, their voice barely a whisper.

"You needn't be, and I have no doubts that my sister would only understand and comfort you, Olothëra, have some faith in your lady." The doomsman reassures firmly, whilst rubbing Irmo's shoulder comfortingly.

Estë sighs and reaches out to Kalla, pulling back into her arms and wiping their eyes, nose and mouth from spit, snot, vomit and tears with a sage green handkerchief, soft and warm hands moving up to cup cold cheeks covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.

"It is a common reaction from people who have been through such circumstances and events as you, Nityamorco ( Little bear ). I am beyond surprised that this did not happen earlier, Nienna did mention you had a habit of keeping things on the inside, but I was not aware it was this bad."

Deep inhales and exhales fill the room again as everyone grows quiet, the three valar allowing Kalla to slowly pick up and collect themself before allowing the two fëanturi and the vala of the gentle to help.

"Irmo."

The youngest fëantur's shoulders shift up to his ears as his whole being grows stiff.

His breathing halts, as he readies himself to take the verbal punches from the small maia.

"Irmo, I don't want you to be sad. Don't forget I see through you, your eyes have never look so blue." They croak and look at the vala a few feet away from them.

Amethyst eyes now turned a deep ocean blue, that had been focused on the floor widen slowly and glide across the room and up Kalla's small form, until he meets their eyes.

"Hm?" He hums out in utter confusion.

"I don't want you to be sad, you 'nd the other valar- chose me because you were sure that the task would be one I could handle... Despite my pleas and begs, I learnt a lot from this mission...

I believe that we can learn from these mistakes, that have been made. They can never be changed, so, instead, let us accept them to be a part of us..."

"I was never mad at you. I can feel it, you think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I could never be mad at you, not you Irmo... I'd betray my own heart."

Their tired eyes close, as a small yawn interrupts their words.

"The final decision was not your choice, that was my lady's, you and the other valar's votes only counted based on who agreed whether I was strong enough to go- I was, in reality, but... I refuse to use my power, you are well aware of this and so is she.

Why she thought I was fit for this, I still do not understand. I've a feeling it was the slip of her tongue though, a rare thing...

I only proved myself to be worthless. I could never have been prepared for what I witnessed- experienced in middle earth, I proved myself to be completely, and utterly, useless."

Flushed ears twitch slightly at the muttered words from the exhausted maia in front of Irmo, and in mere seconds the fëantur has made his way over to his wife and their friend, grabbing their hand and giving them an almost childish, angry and stubborn stare.

"Stop calling yourself such hurtful things, good Eru- You're going to drive yourself mad, little moon."

"But-"

"Mm, no." The white haired vala wraps his arm around his spouse and Kalla, shoving their face into Estë's shoulder gently.

Soft sighs escape Kalla, as the tears tumble down their face once again, the silvery droplets landing on the shoulder fabric of Estë's dress, but she cares not.

In fact, a smile tugs at the corners of her lips, while her hand moves to brush through their messy hair.

"You must be so exhausted... Our little lily bear." She mutters.

"I am." They reply, quietly and hoarsely, nails digging into Estë's back as they take in the familiar and comforting scent of warm nights, visiting her and Irmo and drinking the man's homebrewed tea, surrounded by lilies, roses and hyacinths.

"I am... really, really, tired Estë..."

Warmth tugs at the hearts of the three in their embrace, Kalla's fëa slightly passing through Irmo and Estë's fánar and merging with their fëar for but a moment, it's such a beautiful feeling.

Oh and tears are shed, though this time, they are not of sadness, nor of joy, but simple relief and the comforting sense of safety.

It's like a breath of fresh air, passing through the body and soul and cleansing it.

Námo clears his throat awkwardly and huffs in hidden amusement when 6 eyes snap towards his direction in synched unison, waiting in silence for the words directed at Irmo:

"... Well, I suppose I cannot stop you from taking them back to Lórien, can I?"

"Oh, Absolutely not. We're taking them."

A cheshire grin forms on Irmo's lips, his eyes flashing with a flurry of color, before changing back to his amethyst hues, his emotions settling once again.

"Very well..." The older hums, staying silent for a minute, scanning his surroundings. The cluttered mess around him of broken chairs and shattered vases- the vomit on the floor- is enough to call forth a slow headache, that's taking its sweet time to slither its way to his eyes and forehead and pulse uncomfortably. This wasn't the only room that had fallen victim to Kalla's destructive meltdown, however... Perhaps there were some good things this event.

Long had the doomsman and and his spouse discussed changing up the interior of the halls, as the leaves of the trees had begun to shift in color, turning orange and red, resembling Arien's beautiful fire and light, and the smell of pumpkin pies filled the air around Vána and Oromë's cottage, whilst the breeze slowly became crisp and began to bite and nip softly at sensitive skin.

"There's so much that needs to be cleaned and fixed..."

"Námo!" Irmo exasperatedly huffs out, cheeks puffed and lips pouted, as a deeper red mixes with his amethyst irises, gaze shifting between Kalla and him, scared his little moon will start feeling guilty again.

"What? Excuse me, mr. mothmorien, Is it not the truth? Look around, I am not trying to make anyone feel bad- but look at this place, it's a mess, no?" He chuckles, a rare thing to catch the doomsman allowing himself to do around most.

He flips his hands around, gesturing to the clutter surrounding the 4 of them.

"I must say Olothëra, your work is impressive. For someone so small, you sure can turn the whole of my domain upside down with no hardships. Are you sure you're not one of Tulkas' reckless maiar?" Námo huffs, drawing a smile from of them.

The room goes quiet for a minute, before the sound of restrained snorts fill the silence, which shifts into small snickers and suddenly bursts out into loud and tired laughter.

"Never let them know your next move, or- or whatever it is Aurëlius usually says."

They laugh and wipe the tears from their eyes, pressing their hand against Irmo's face to get him to look at them and not his brother.

"Tell your maiar I said hi and I'm sorry for giving them more work and"

A pale hand full of silver rings on each finger and chains wrapped around the wrist delicately is raised, silencing the maia.

"Worry not, I'm sure they'd count redecorating the halls as a break from all the- well- death, and if it would be a relief to you, then your punishment shall be that you join them." He hums, letting a small smile flash on his features before switching up to his poker face once again.

"Now go, rest."

With those three simple words from the doomsman, Estë grins throws Kalla over her shoulder, chuckling at the squeak that escapes their lips.

The vala of dreams follows behind the two, halting for a moment to look at his brother, only to blink and give him a bright smile.

"I should send you and Vairë a bouquet as thanks!"

"I'd rather you not." Námo sighs and shoos his brother out of the lounges doorway, shaking his head with a smile threatening to claw its way back onto his face as he watches the three go.

"... What will I tell Vairë when she gets back with her new silks and sees this mess."

A/N: Ah ( Slams head onto table )

I'm so sorry if some characters seemed ooc you guys, I'm trying my best to put myself into the shoes of characters, it also really depends on the bonds of the Canon characters and the muses.

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