#if for nothing else than someone seeing me wield that & being like 'what the FUCK' bc it's kinda pretty intimidating lol.

[orcelito]

ok SO i went and got out Most of my knives (i remembered I have a nonbinary knife only after i took the photos & also idk where it is currently. just imagine all these plus a nonbinary flag knife ok? ok)

HERE ^ is the most of them, minus that nonbinary knife. look at that fuckin mess. 32 shown here (i think) plus my nonbinary knife makes 33 blades (minus cooking knives, i dont count those for these purposes)(also counting the swiss army knife as only 1 bc lol)

& some explanations for them! gonna put these under a readmore bc it got Kinda long on accident whoops. Read Ahead if u wanna see me nerd out about my knife collection.

STARTING WITH my big ones.

my spear (gifted to me), my cane sword (from anime convention), my shitty $20 sword (also from anime convention. low quality but cool as hell), my teal mini sword + matching throwing knives (from online), my decorative axe (from a local store), my twin blades (my sharpest blades, theyre actually kinda scary how sharp they are, but i love them bc of it. from online), red saber (from online),

ANDDDDDDDDDDDD my favorite hefty bitch of a machete that i sleep with in my bed frame on the very right (inherited from my grandpa bc i was the first one who spotted it at Family Claiming Day)(this thing really is as long as my leg & much heavier than Any of the rest of the blades pictured here. i love it)

another view of the blades so u can better see how long they are. the big boys. they're lovely. 2nd heaviest blade is the cane sword when it's in its cane, mostly bc that handle has some Heft. tbh id feel safer using it as a bludgeoning weapon than a stabbing weapon, but having a cane sword is just plain cool

AND my smaller blades!

i have a lot of pocket knives. starting from the top left: golden pocket knife (from online), rainbow dragon (from online), rainbow HEFTY boy (heaviest pocket knife, from online), spider knife (from online), stiletto jade (from online), pathetic army boy (from local store, this knife has NO redeeming qualities, but it's mine <3), black stiletto (from local store), plain dagger man (from online), my damascus steel knife (was a gift, probably my singular most expensive knife. fancy boy), Dull Dagger Man (first blade i ever bought, from anime convention)

& for bottom row: teeny black knife (first pocket knife i owned, gift from my dad), lil rainbow knife (from local store), plain steel knife (from sketchy shop in gatlinburg + one of my Favorite knives), green dragon knife (from online, a real beaut), triple throwing knives (also from same sketchy shop in gatlinburg), the baby throwing knives again from the Big Boys pic but i included them again bc they r so teeny tiny, my keychain key blade (from online), swiss army knife (from online), & the pair of claw keychain baldes (from online)

many blades, many stories, so little time. theyre great tho.

SOME FOCUSES:

^ these are all my spring-assisted knives, sorted from worst feel to best feel to open. based on quickness, ease, & general satisfaction. leftmost is leftmost bc i didnt even Know it was spring assisted, bc it doesnt have a nice lil tab on the back to press. no u gotta press on one of the rungs. but once u do it Does spring open, so i included it. next 3 are just Average in feel (these 3 are sibling blades anyways, nice of them to be together). jade stiletto is smooth and quick, nice to open. Hefty Boy rainbow has some THUNK to it when i open it. like that babey's got PURPOSE to it. added to the general size of it & it's just pretty great. AND THEN MY TWO FAVS, green dragon is a perfect beautiful knife & feels very great to open. and then Steel Sketchy Knife aka my 2nd pocket knife & first i bought for myself. it looks plain in comparison to the others, but she's anything But. quick, light, Sharp. it has the Best feel to open, bc it's just a fast SHHK. probably my knife that's seen the most use (aside from my small black knife) just bc of how great it feels to open. i love that knife so much for Real.

& the final highlight, somewhat related, are the knives I actually use the most in my daily life!

on the left are the knives I keep in my bag by default, & thus the ones I carry with me Everywhere i go. small black pocket knife bc she's Ol' Faithful, & a pretty lowkey knife for basic tasks when I dont wanna raise any eyebrows lol. silver knife bc as previously stated i Love using it so much. i take it out when i gotta breakdown a lot of boxes at work, & it Never disappoints. small rainbow keychain key knife bc it's cute & i like to keep it on my keychain. & swiss army knife bc Obviously im gonna keep the swiss army knife in my bag for if i need an emergency tool.

on the right are the three knives I keep out in my apartment. black stiletto lives on my bathroom counter, for bathroom knife needs. green stiletto i keep on my table next to where I hang out in my bedroom, for any couch time needs. & then green dragon beaut camps out on top of some shelves by my front door bc it's Great for opening boxes, aka something I will do for packages I receive after pulling them in the front door. it works for me.

all the rest of my knives live either in a box (for small ones) or my closet (for big ones). i may have a lot of knives, but somehow I never feel like i have enough. i just love collecting them so much <3

#speculation nation #knives #what this boils down to are. my favorites are: Big Hefty Machete that i managed to stab myself with on accident #by dropping it point-first on my finger (whoops) #a plain silver knife i got from a sketchy shop in gatlinburg (there really are so many there) that just feels SO good to use #a beautiful green dragon knife bc it's well balanced & feels great to open. also pretty. #black stiletto knife just bc i love how it feels in my hand. it's also very pointy #& small black knife bc she's ol' faithful. & great for using for average shit to not freak people out #(imagine if i brought ol' Hefty Rainbow out w/ its glass breaking base & wonderful hooked blade. ppl would give me Looks for sure) #i love many other knives but those r my favs #if i had to pick an ABSOLUTE fav it'd have to be my machete. it having drawn my blood did Not discourage me from loving it #it feels very uhh. idk it makes me feel secure having it nearby #if for nothing else than someone seeing me wield that & being like 'what the FUCK' bc it's kinda pretty intimidating lol. #long and heavy. wouldnt actually be great for combat bc that thin part between the blade & the hilt could snap the moment you hit bone #but good for me i never intend to use my blades for that! it feels comforting mostly as an intimidation factor. #the comfort being like. if someone broke in lol. that's why i sleep with it in my bed frame. so i can have it onhand Just In Case #aka it's like sleeping with a gun under my pillow except i just keep a massive fucking knife next to me instead. works for me #not the longest of my blades but it's the heaviest of my blades by far. i feel very lucky to own it. #anyways this has been the Knife Ramble by yours truly. this took me like 2 hours to gather & take pictures of & write this summary #APPRECIATE MY WORK at documenting my collection. this is the first time ive done this in several years. #wish i'd found that nonbinary knife first... oh well...

[getousatoruu]

Itafushi my babies! Hope you enjoy them fics! <3

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fic recs #itafushi fic #itafushi fic recs #fushiita #fushiita fic recs #fic rec #itadori yuuji #megumi fushiguro #jjk fic recs #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic recs #jjk megumi #jjk yuuji #itafushi #itadori yuji #itadori #megumi #yuuji #yuji itadori #megumi x yuuji #yuuji x megumi #megumi x itadori #itadori x fushiguro #pls enjoy them fics and support the authors bye #<3

[one-idea]

Hi! Just wanted to tell you i really like you reverse strawhats au and after you said that you planned on the crews meeting I started to think about what the reactions of the og crew would be so here are my hcs I guess you can tell me if you agree or not

Franky - would be fine a bit weirded out that iceburg here but wouldnt really question it until someone pointed out that it doesnt make sense

Ussop - freaking out that kaya is here in the middle a fight so his more worried about her well being than the logistic of her being here in the first place. The fact he is also excited to see her again after so long helps delay his realization

Nami - she is questioning how the fuck nojiko ended up here and she will mention it but will hold back the interrogation until after the dust has settled

Zoro - he just think its tashigi but then he notice she does not sound like tashigi or act like tashigi or fight like tashigi and then he see ace is here and starts to think theres some evil clone thing going on

Sanji - did reiju follow him? has she been following him the whole time? why is she here? did she come to help? did she not come to help? She is looking at him with a lot of emotion and is freaking him the fuck out

Robin - is trying so so so hard to figure it out what is going on but she is also disassociating a bit because her brain is not really handling the fact that her mom is alive in front of her. will have a panic attack later

Chopper - oh hes crying hes crying so much

Luffy - oh he is going insane just tunnel vision because his brother is right there and he is alive and luffy is just tearing through everything the way to get there

Thank you so much! Oh my friend, I love all of this!

It totally depends on if the strawhats get dumped in the middle of the fight. I think we agreed that they would be joining the reverse crew in Wano (I need to come up with a name for this crew 🤔) or if they all just bump into each other on an island.

I haven’t reach Wano yet so this is a very rough draft of ideas.

If they get dropped into the Wano fight I think the first thought the Strawhats will have is how did we get back here?!?!?.

Luffy definitely sees Ace fighting, and is off like a shot. Nothing else matters. The others hear him yell “Ace” and now they are really confused. But there’s no time for that. Main goals are:

Stay alive

Figure out what’s going one.

I think Zoro and Sanji would try to follow Luffy, because it’s Wano part two apparently?!? And there is a copy of Ace here? They doesn’t trust this and their captain isn’t going alone.

They get drawn into fighting King and Queen again.

This is where they meet Kuina and Reiju.

And this is where I get to tell you you missed the really fun part of this. It’s not just how the strawhats feel but also how the reverse strawhats feel

Zoro and Kuina

Zoro sees what he thinks is Tashigi fighting King. Which weird why is she here? But Ace(?) is here so nothing really makes sense. He jumps into the fight and Tashigi starts screaming at him. That’s on par for Tashigi. Except she’s calling HIM the look alike, rude! That doesn’t even make sense!

Meanwhile Kuina thinks stupid Tsukin just interrupted her fight. Why is he here? You know what it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need this dumb marine’s help to beat Kiado’s right hand man. She’s the first mate of the the (not strawhats but whatever they will be called) she is wining this fight herself.

They are about to get into an argument when they both recognize that the other is wielding Wado Ichimonji. But that’s just not possible. It has to be a fake or a copy. But both would recognize Wado Ichimonji any where. It’s not a fake. But how?

King attacks them and they have to focus. They start to recognize each others moves and styles. Little things that they would do even as children. Habits that carried over. Things that Tashigi and Tsukin don’t do. And there’s this little voice in their heads saying “could this be-?” They don’t officially put it together until they meet up with everyone else.

Sanji and Reiju

Sanji sees Queen attacking a woman with pink hair. And while she’s not wearing her kimono he still thinks it’s Umi. He moves to intercept the attack yelling at Queen for attacking a woman.

Reiju is in shock. Because this person is obiously from Germa 66. But who would follow her? Then Sanji turns to face her to make sure “Umi” is okay and she realizes who this person is. It’s Sanji. But that’s not… but it is. It’s Sanji. Her kind little brother.

Sanji finally gets a good look at the woman he just saved and… what? What is Reiju doing here? Why does she look so different? Her hairs different. She’s missing her tattoos and her Germa armor. What is going on here? Did she leave Germa 66. Did she leave their father? Did she follow him? Or is Germa here to help Big Mom and Kaido. No that can’t be it, But why is she here?

He’s spiraling. Both of them are. But Sanji’s frozen. Reiju doesnt know what happening but she knows this is her brother. Before she can hug him or confront him about how he was in Wano she sees queen moving to attack Sanji. No, no way, not her little brother. She launches herself at Queen.

Sanji sees the moment Reiju tenses and then throws herself towards him. He braces for an attack that flies right by him with a vicious battle cry. He turns to see Reiju beating the crap out of Queen. “Don’t you touch him! I won’t lose him again!” Lose him? Like when he left Germa as a child? Or whole cake? But she’s the one who pushed him to go. What is Reiju talking about?

While all of this is going on the rest of the crew is on the move. They are catching glimpse of their counter parts but it’s late enough in the fight that the main problems are Kaido, Big Mom, King and Queen.

(Which will allow for a sequence of Law joinging that fight only because he sees Rosinante fighting Big Mom. I will write more on this once I actually get to dressrosa and Wano)

Nami and Nojiko

I don’t think Nami runs into Nojiko until after the fighting. I haven’t decided what Nojiko’s fighting style is yet. She seems to wield her mother’s gun in the series so she might be a gun slinger instead of fighting with a staff (I haven’t figured out if she’s going to have weather powers yet)

But I can see Nami finding Zoro and Kuina arguing after the fight. (Nami is looking for Luffy/Zoro/Sanji to make sure they’re alright and bring them back to the group.) she find Zoro and who she thinks is Tashigi yelling at each other. Which not to weird besides the fact that Tashigi wasn’t here the first time and she’s calling Zoro the wrong name. Like not even an insult just straight up the wrong name.

She goes to interrupt them when Nojiko comes running in yelling at someone named Kuina. Which seems to make Zoro freeze. (This is his moment of what the heck is happening) Nami sees Nojiko and okay this is to weird, why is her sister her. So she calls out

Nojiko turns and sees this orange haired woman standing in front of her. She has no clue who she is. (Her hair is the same color as Nami’s but Nami died when she was 10. There’s no way she’d recognize 20 year old Nami as well, Nami) but that’s okay because Zoro is going to handle that for her.

“Nami why is your sister calling the copycat Kuina!” He calls out because of course he doesn’t believe this is Kuina. “I’M THE COPYCAT!” Kuina yells at him which he ignores for now.

Nojiko’s world stops. Nami. This woman’s name is Nami?

“I don’t know Zoro! I don’t even know why she’s here!” Nami yells back at Zoro. Breaking Kuina’s brain as well because a woman with the same name as Nojiko’s dead little sister just called this man Zoro. And while she is impulsive and stupid at times, she’s starting to put the pieces together. But we’re not going to focus on Zoro and Kuina right now.

Nojiko storms up to Nami and asks who her mother is. And Nami is real freaked out because “it’s Bell-mére and why are you asking that?” But Nojiko’s not going to explain because Nami’s here! She’s alive! She’s hugging her sister and sobbing. Saying how she’s so happy she’s alive. Nami is so confused. Since when did Nojiko think she was dead?

Meanwhile the sword wielding duo is watching this and Kuina starts quizzing Zoro about their dojo and Zoro’s not going to be out done so he starts asking questions back. The questions get more unhinged as they go. At some point Sanji and Reiju join them (Reiju has not let go of Sanji since the beat queen) and while both siblings still don’t know fully what’s going on. Reiju’s starting to come up with a theory as she watch’s Kuina and Zoro argue and Nojiko sob into Nami.

Usopp and Kaya

The first time Usopp sees Kaya is after he almost dies. He was taking shots protecting his crew when someone almost hits him. He turns just in time to see the hit coming but can’t do anything to stop it. He braces for impact when a crossbolt hits his attacker dead on. His eyes follow the shot, making sure it’s a friend not a foe, and he gets the surprise of his life. It’s Kaya.

Kaya who’s studying to be a doctor. Kaya who’s never hurt anyone in her life. Kaya who just shot a man in cold blood. Kaya who didn’t flinch at the action. Kaya who’s already lining up her next shot and yelling.

Oh wait, is she yelling at him? Yes. She yelling at him to move. He can do that. He starts moving to her position and watching her snip anyone who gets remotely close to him. And he has to wonder ‘am….am I into this????’ (Yes yes he is)

When Usopp finally reaches Kaya she starts yelling questions at him as they work together to watch over their crews. It’s a mess of a conversation.

Usopp’s asking her why she’s not at Syrup village.

She shoots someone and asks why she’d be there? Then has to yell at Usopp not to shoot at the the woman with pink hair fighting besides Sanji, that’s Reiju her crewmate.

Usopp’s so confused “when did you join a crew?”

Now Kaya’s confused cause she been on her crew since they were 14 duh.

Usopp’s freaking out but before he can ask about that Kaya continues “when did you leave Water 7?”

Side bar I got a whole idea for Usopp that since he and Merry take over the ship yard for Kaya when she sets sail at 14 he falls in love with making ships. When he does finally get out of syrup village it’s to go to Water 7 to learn to become one of the best shipwrights in the world. He never crosses paths with the giants, and meeting Ace and the others so early, (and seeing what happened in this world Marineford) changed a lot of things for him. But we can talk about that in a different post.

Usopp is so confused. But he can’t focus on that because “no Kaya don’t shoot at Chopper he’s our doctor!”

“You mean the reindeer creature that’s about to attack MY ships doctor is your ships doctor?” (They witness Chopper and Hiriluk’s reunion. It’s sickeningly sweet.

Needless to say they are both so confused, scared, and happy to see each other. Kaya’s always known that Usopp was a great shot but the Usopp she meets in Wano is on a different level.

They don’t catch on to what is happening until later when they reunite with everyone.

Robin and Olivia / Franky and Iceburg

Robin trying to figure out what the heck is happenings. Why are they in Wano again? How is Ace here? She catches a glimpse of Olivia fighting using HER devil fruit. She doesn’t get a good look at the woman, but a white haired woman using her devil fruit. That sounds an awful lot like Seraphim. She’s not positive. But if there is a Seraphim of herself could this ‘Ace’ also be a Seraphim? If that is the case she needs to get her captain away from it now!

She’s keeping an eye out for other white haired versions of their crew and allies. She hasn’t shared her theory yet. They need to first put a stop to the fighting and get to safety.

It isn’t until after the fight that she comes face to face with Olivia and all ideas of Seraphim fly from her mind. Because this woman is older than her. The seraphim are always younger.

Olivia sees Robin and is shocked to see that they share the same devil fruit power. That’s just not possible. She grabs the nearest crewmate, Iceburg, and goes to figure out what is going on by on. She thinks Iceburg will be helpful, he’s incredibly intelligent, but that all flies out the window the moment they get near this mysterious black haired woman.

She’s standing next to a cyborg who strikes a familiar pose and Iceburg brain stops working. It’s not possible. Franky died so long ago. But who else poses like that, talks like that? Has Franky been alive all this time and Iceburg just didn’t know? His little brother, cut apart into a cyborg, but still alive.

Olivia is talking about how they need to figure this out. They just survived Wano but if someone is copying devil fruits they will have a real problem and wait… Iceburg where are you going!

He just walks away in the middle of her statement. There is no subtlety in his movements. The cyborg and black haired woman see him coming. Olivia’s getting ready just incase they attack but that’s not a problem. The cyborg looks up and calls out “Ice-for-brains? What are you doing here? It’s great to see you don’t get me wrong but what about Water 7?”

Frank and Robin were talking about how they got thrown back in time? Put in a different universe? Or is this is all an illusion? Robin is still on her Seraphim theory. Maybe this is an elaborate training simulation for seraphim’s of the strawhats that the crew wondered into? When Franky spots Iceburg. And he’s excited to see him again but also filled with dread because is Water 7 okay?

Iceburg knew this was Franky the moment he heard Ice-for-brains. He’s crying. This is really Franky. He moves to quickly hug his brother. Franky’s thrown for a loop, because like it’s been a while, but not sobbing so happy you’re alive while, you know. Like Iceburg didn’t even treat him like this when he first returned to Water 7 after being presumed dead for years.

Robin sees all of this and it’s not right, Iceburg shouldn’t be here. But his appearance is also off. The Iceburg they know always looked pristine, he was the mayor and a business man. He presented himself as someone people could trust with important decision. This man looks like a wreck. Not just because he’s sobbing but his clothing and hair. They look different than how Iceburg would present himself.

While she’s having all of these realizations Olivia walks over to join them. She’s worried for Iceburg and wants to make sure he’s okay. She and Robin meet eyes but they don’t recognize each other (if they ran right past each other in Ohara they are not recognizing each other in Wano where they are both much old and believe the other dead for 22 years) it isn’t until Franky looks to Robin (with Iceburg arms still wrapped around him) and goes “hey Ice-for-brains you remember Nico Robin.” (He’s trying to get Iceburg to stop crying so he can find out what the heck is going on here)

But the name brings Olivia’s world to a screeching halt. “What did you just say?” She quickly move to Robin grabbing her face and examining her. “What’s your name?”

Robin isn’t afraid to tell people who she is anymore. Her crew will always protect her. “Nico Robin”

Olivia thinks this is a trick because it can’t be her daughter. But no one knew of her daughter’s existence. She died in Ohara 22 years ago. The only people who know her name are Olivia’s crewmates. “And where are you from?”

“Ohara.” Robin answers without hesitation. Franky is watching closely ready to help her if this crazy lady attacks her.

“That’s not possible. Nico Robin died 22 years ago when Ohara was buster called.” The white haired woman says. And Robin’s dumb founded because she pretty famously the only survivor of that buster call. “How dare you impersonate my little girl!” Olivia is furious. But her words shock Robin. Because WHAT?

“Who are you?” Robin asks this obviously very angry woman.

“Nico Olivia the only survivor of Ohara. I watched my daughter die so you can’t be her.”

This could go on forever if Franky wasn’t standing there like, “um yes she is Nico Robin. We declared war on the world government and destroyed Enies Lobby to get her back because she you know Nico Robin? Back me up Ice-for-brains you were there.”

Olivia and Iceburg are so confused because they stormed Enies Lobby to save Olivia. But Franky, who is somehow alive, says his crew stormed Enies Lobby to save Robin. Several moments or mother and daughter using their brains later they realize that this has to be either an illusion, or a parallel world.

Olivia and Robin have a break down because their daughter/mom is actually here. Like brain stops working when they finally make the connection and are like oh….OH. Meanwhile Iceburg and Franky have already started comparing notes. Not on their journeys and where they differ, no that would be helpful, no they are comparing notes on the ships they built for their crews.

Chopper and Hiriluk

Chopper and Hiriluk don’t have the same blocks that everyone else does. Unlike Nami, Sanji, and Franky, their counter part isn’t alive, so there’s no awkward “how are you alive?” “What do you mean I saw you the last time I was home?” There’s no confusion on how they are here fighting like with Usopp and Kaya. And unlike Robin, Olivia, and Nojiko they can instantly recognize each other. (Hiriluk hasn’t changed that much, Chopper’s the only human reindeer)

The only people in a similar situation are Ace and Luffy as it’s only been two years since they lost each other, and oddly Zoro and Kuina. Though it’s not because they recognize each other and more because they think the other is someone else. (By the time they realize it’s truly their lost friend, it’s because they recognize Wado Ichimonji.)

Chopper runs into Hiriluk on the battle field. They both imidiatly recognize each other. They call out for each other, knocking out any enemy between them, and Chopper just jumps into his arms as Hiriluk falls to his knees. (They have no clue Kaya almost shot Chopper) they are sobbing “My son! My wonderful wonderful son!”

They are a mess. The enemy’s are avoiding them because you don’t get in between a sobbing father and his son. Especially when that father is telling his son just how much he loves him. Even more so when the father and son just took out a 1/4 of the enemy’s just to get to each other.

Just back away from the sobbing old man and his raccoon dog son as slowly and quietly as you can.

Luffy and Ace

Luffy sees Ace. Which just can’t be. This has to be a dream. Or a vision. But Ace never fought Kaido as far as Luffy knows.

But then he sees Ace hit Kaido hard. He can feel the heat from Ace’s fire from here. This is real. It has to be. And Kaido is about to hit Ace. Ace who he already watched die once. Luffy is gone in point .0001 seconds. He’s left his crew behind (he trust them to take care of themselves, to take care of everything else) he has to get to Ace.

Ace sees the hit coming and he’s bracing for it. But it never lands because some maniac comes flying out of no where and slams into Kaido with a speed and a force he’s only seen once before. But that’s not possible, that person was dead. His baby brother was dead. It couldn’t be him. Except Kaido is sent flying and the boy lands, and it is. It is him. It’s Luffy. From his Strawhat to his sandals, that’s his brother.

His baby brother is here. He’s alive! And he’s just punched Kaido. Kaido who Ace was struggling to fight. Kaido who is launching himself back at Luffy. No. Never again. Never again will Ace let Luffy get hurt.

Cue the boys desperately trying to punch Kaido first. They are both yelling about Kaido staying away from THEIR brother! There’s no way Kaido can win. Anytime he tries to defend himself from one the other launches themselves at him with a rabid feralness that should not be seen in humans.

Gear 5 comes out at some point. Ace awakens his fruit. They demolish him.

Afterwords Luffy just launches himself at Ace knocking him to the ground. His rubber limbs wrapping around his big brother. Ace is cradling his brother as close as he can. They are sobbing. Until they pass out. Exhausted from the fight. They don’t care about the why or the how, their brother is here that’s all they care for.

Their crews find them and move them somewhere safe. And I do mean them. Ace is not releasing Luffy even in his sleep. Not that it matters much, Luffy is so tangled around him it wouldn’t be possible to separate them. Not that their crews would.

They wake up two days later still tangled up. By this point Robin, Olivia, Iceburg, and Jinbei have put the pieces together. They know that the Strawhats are from a different timeline? World? They’re still working out the particulars. And they have no idea how to get the strawhats back. (Oh no extended vacation!!)

Not like the reverse crew wants them to go back.

Again this is a VERY rough outline of what it will look like. I’ll write way more detail when I actually get here in cannon. But for now here’s a taste of what is to come.

Thank you so much for the prompt/ask it was so well articulated I had to expand on it.

Master post

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #straw hat pirates #roronoa zoro #reverse strawhat pirate au #fire fist ace #one piece ace #nami #gol d. ace #portagas d. ace #nojiko #shimotsuki kuina #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke reiju #usopp #one piece kaya #dr hiriluk #tony tony chopper #nico olvia #nico robin #one piece iceburg #one piece franky #I’m in love with my own au. please send more prompts. #they are all crying. the reverse crew is trying to figure out how they can get the strawhats to stay. #Reiju: ​would you like to stay for dinner? Ace: would you like to stay forever?!

[shanastoryteller]

happy birthday! identity shenanigans in the fandom of your choice, please?

Part 1 2

Chris doesn't get through more than two upper level demons before the sisters' calling for him starts to give him a headache.

He orbs back in the manor, arms crossed. "Did you figure out how to put the sword back in the lake?"

Leo is here now. Great. As if this whole situation wasn't already terrible.

"My liege," says a tall man in a ridiculous outfit, going into a deep bow. "I felt when the sword was removed. I am here to teach you how to wield it."

Chris can't even pretend to give a fuck. "Go away."

"Um, he seems to a lot about the sword?" Phoebe offers. "Maybe he can help you put it back. His name is Mordaunt."

"It would be my honor to-"

"Am I your king or aren't I?" Chris demands. "Fuck off."

Paige seems delighted by his attitude while Piper is taken aback and Leo is frowning.

"Perhaps you are not the king," Mordaunt suggests, "your combative attitude could be a result of the sword's corruptive power. It's strange that the sword would appear in the Charmed Ones' home only for you to take it from the stone."

People thinking the sword can't possibly belong to him is nothing new. It was always supposed to be Wyatt, no one ever questioned that, but when the time he came he couldn't make the sword budge, no matter what he did.

Chris's time with it had been brief. He'd been too young when he'd pulled it free and Wyatt had stolen it and corrupted it and been corrupted by it. No one had believed him.

Well, almost no one.

"Are you saying Excalibur doesn't know it's master?" he asks sharply.

Mordaunt visibly hesitates.

"Go," he says. "Before I make you."

His face sours but he gives a shallow bow and disappears into a vortex. Interesting. Those are typically associated with neutral parties.

The sisters and Leo look wary. He holds back a sigh and says, "If the sword were truly corrupting me, I wouldn't want to put it back and I'd be trying to conquer the world. It's mine."

"You're King Arthur?" Paige presses. "You're a whitelighter!"

Piper's face softens. "Were you king before you died?"

There are so many reasons that this is a disaster, but the questions it brings up are the worst for him personally.

He supposes he's just lucky that Piper hadn't grabbed for the sword. She's his mother, and the half of him that will eventually become, well, him, is still inside of her. She would have been able to pull it from the stone, it would have corrupted her, and it would have been almost impossible to get it away from her without revealing his identity.

"It's not king like you're thinking of it," he says finally. "Don't worry about it. Unless me being king means you'll actually listen to me, in which case it means exactly what you think it does."

"If you're the king, why didn't you say that when you first appeared?" Leo challenges. "It would have meant more than you just being a random whitelighter from the future."

Chris stares. "Yeah, because historically the Charmed Ones have responded so well to authority. It doesn't matter. I'm not a king here."

His identity matters in the future. It's the only reason the Resistance exists at all.

Wyatt doesn't use Excalibur against him in battle. The sword, even corrupted, knows its king. It won't harm him.

His brother found that out that hard way, in front of too many witnesses. It's the only reason anyone is crazy enough to go against someone who's seemingly almost all powerful.

"You're so young, though," Phoebe frowns. "How long have you been a whitelighter? You're not even born yet. And - why would the Elders make you a whitelighter? You need to be reincarnated. It's your destiny."

Destiny is horseshit.

It's Paige who figures it out. He'd always worried that it would be her, that he'd see the similarities between them that no one else noticed. "Unless - you didn't die. You're not a whitelighter."

Piper frowns. "Honey, he's pretty obviously a whitelighter."

"No," she shakes her head. "I mean, yeah, but he's like me. You didn't die. You were born a whitelighter."

This day really can't get any worse.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #charmed

[thiawen]

@alexanderlightweight You’ve been so prolific lately and with such great content that you’ve inspired me. Consider this a gift.

The Blessings of a Curse

“No. Absolutely not.”

Alec’s voice was hard and unyielding, a tone that made the rest of his hunters stand at attention.

“But you’ll die!” Isabelle cried out in dismay.

“There are worse things.” He told her with a cold certainty.

“Damnit, Alec!” Jace growled. “You have to! It’s fuck or die! Clary is offering!”

And that fact probably upset Jace the most. Alec was too disciplined to roll his eyes, but he certainly wanted to. Alec didn’t think for a second Clary was offering out of the goodness of her heart, even if she did find him attractive. Maybe she was mostly offering for Jace’s sake. Maybe she knew that if she didn’t offer, no other Nephilim would work with her ever again. Alec was positive that it was mostly so she could hold it over his head, even if she didn’t consciously realize it.

Nevermind that she owed him ten times over. He knew she didn’t see it that way. There were no debts between Shadowhunters, not in the field, and Clary seemed to think she was one just because she was a Nephilim. As if that alone was enough.

No. Clary would use it as a debt owed. She would wield it like a weapon against him, he knew. Anytime she wanted something from him, or to escape the consequences of her actions, or for him to give in to her reckless and/or selfish desires. She would bring up what she had done, like it was some great sacrifice on her part instead of his. Something she alone had suffered on his behalf and conveniently forgetting that he was only in this mess because of her. Alec would never hear the end of it.

“I would rather die.” He vowed.

“Please, Alec.” She pleaded, as if she weren’t offering a deal with the devil. “I want to help. I promise I’m okay with this.”

“Well I’m not okay with it.” He told her. “I’ve made my decision and I’m ready to meet my maker.”

“You really think Raziel would approve of you dying for this?” Jace asked him. “When you have a solution right in front of you?”

Alec can’t even describe how much he would rather fall on his own sword. “I’m positive Raziel will think I’ve died with honor.”

“Damn straight.” He barely hears murmured from somewhere in the Ops Center, the other Shadowhunters nodding in agreement.

Alec makes a mental note to give them all raises before he shuffles off his mortal coil.

“Alec.” Isabelle begged. “We can’t lose you. Is there any way you would say yes?”

“Find someone else.” He told his sister. Anyone but her, he silently beseeched the universe.

“There isn’t anyone else. ‘Fathered by a man of angel blood who consorts with the demons of Edom’ is a very specific requirement.”

At that moment, like an answer to a prayer, Magnus strolled in.

“I do believe my ears are burning.” The warlock smirked.

“Magnus.” Alec breathed. “You came.” He was so relieved.

He had hoped he could see Magnus one last time. It had felt selfish to ask him to come. But if Alec was going to die then he wanted it to be on his terms. What did the disapproval of the Clave or his parents matter when faced with the certainty of a painful death? He only had until midnight and he had decided to spend those hours with Magnus, to give himself what he wanted in his last moments.

He wanted to kiss Magnus and be kissed in return. To hold him and be held. He wanted so much with Magnus and he could only hope the other man would forgive him for being unable to give him more time. More than anything, he regretted that he had done nothing before now.

“For you, darling, always.” Magnus promised. “I heard you were forced to pick up the slack again and were cursed by a rogue Unseelie for your efforts. You really do need more competent help.”

“I really do.” He sighed in agreement, ignoring the protests from Jace and Clary.

“Can you break the curse?” Isabelle asked Magnus.

“Oh, absolutely. Tell me, Alexander. Did I ever tell you about my father?”

“No.” He frowned. “Why?”

“I am the son of Asmodeus.” He purred with a vicious smile, eyes glinting.

“The Greater Demon?” No wonder Magnus was so powerful.

“The fallen angel.” Magnus emphasized. “The King of Edom and all the demons therein.”

Alec stared for a moment, delighted. “I’ve suddenly found the will to live.” He declared. Then, he marched straight to Magnus and right there in the middle of the Institute, surrounded by Shadowhunters, he pressed his lips to Magnus’s in a desperate and passionate kiss.

#Shadowhunters #Alec Lightwood #Magnus Bane #Malec #malec fanfiction #malec fanfic #my fics #my writing

[commando-rogers]

ok I’m sorry if this seems mean but the lack of media literacy and critical thinking that is necessary to look at this season and hate aziraphale and think he wanted to hurt crowley is astounding. like. is it not clear that aziraphale has been in an abusive relationship with heaven for millennia? that heaven has groomed him to want to be a good little angel who does their bidding??? is it not clear that aziraphale has been made to think heaven is good at its core simply because it is heaven and heaven must be good because hell is bad simply because it’s bad because that’s what we were told? that throughout both seasons he keeps trying to get crowley to do the “bad” “harmful” “evil” things because that’s what demons do, not angels, because demons are bad and evil because that’s what god said but not really god just heaven wielding this ambiguous “god’s will” as a means of gaining power?????

like. there was literally a parallel of an actual abusive relationship in this season in order to make it clearer to us. somebody who has affection for someone else but thinks they can’t act on it because they have an obligation to their controlling partner who won’t let them step out of line???? Nina’s journey was RIGHT THERE as a parallel to aziraphale’s.

some hallmarks of abusive relationships are when you are gaslit and fed lies in order to separate you from others. when you are promised something great to get you to comply, when really they just want to use you for their own means. “your friends can’t love you as much as I do, you should stay with me because I’m the only one who loves you and can make you happy. others are evil and must have evil intent because they’re not me. and you want to do what I say is best because if I don’t love you you’ll be alone.” and after the abuse, the cycle becomes love-bombing, being kind and gentle again, making you feel special. like. it’s right there guys.

Aziraphale didn’t go with metatron because he wanted to take this job and say fuck you to earth and crowley. of course, that’s the collateral damage, but aziraphale can’t see that!!! and heaven KNOWS that if aziraphale stays with crowley they could present too big an obstacle. so they need to alienate aziraphale from him. and what better way to do that than to manipulate him and promise him this incredible opportunity that can’t possibly be bad because it’s heaven and we’re good see!!! we know you’ve been having doubts and are becoming happier without us than with, so we want to give you this to pull you back. you’re so special, you’re so smart, nobody could do this except you. but they know they can exploit aziraphale’s eagerness to please and use him as a puppet to execute their plans.

aziraphale isn’t going to have an ounce of authority in heaven. they’ll make him feel special, yes, but they won’t let him do anything that doesn’t serve their interests. look at Gabriel!!!! that wasn’t some cutesy side plot, that was a demonstration of what happens when the most powerful angel in the universe finds something that matters more to them than heaven’s agenda. Gabriel wasn’t abiding and stood in the way of their plans, so they eliminated him. and they let him go off with beelzebub because they know how formidable Gabriel can be, and letting him go posed less of a risk than trying to fight him on it. but they think aziraphale is soft. so to fill Gabriel’s vacancy they used the path of least resistance.

aziraphale is a victim of heaven. he’s been kept in the dark and lied to so much. he WANTED crowley to come with him SO badly, but he was so afraid of losing his abusive partner/parent/anything because he’s been made to think he’s nothing without them. so he hurts crowley. he insults Crowley’s very nature by implying crowley could ever be happy being an angel again. the very essence of crowley is questioning authority, he could never be an angel, he’d never want to. but aziraphale can’t understand that yet, because he’s caught in this cycle of abuse.

the entire Edinburgh storyline shows aziraphale unable to recognize that sometimes doing the “bad” thing is the right thing. even when he realizes crowley was right and he was wrong; he still has to spin it as “well, this is actually benefitting humanity so it’s still something heaven would approve of.” everything has to be twisted to fit the narrative he’s been force-fed, otherwise he is bad and evil and worthless and he’s been groomed to think those are the worst things he could be.

as Maggie and Nina said, even though crowley and aziraphale talk, they never say what matters. they both hide so much from each other. aziraphale spends the better part of season 1 lying to crowley and pretending he doesn’t know where the antichrist is, because he believes heaven actually wants to avert Armageddon. if he can do good and help stop this with heaven, then everything will be good in the end, right???

but crowley also hides things. he hid what Gabriel said to him before the hellfire. he tried to hide his holy water heist. he hid the book of life. he thinks he’s protecting aziraphale, but they both struggle so much to realize in order to have Their Side, they need to be completely open and vulnerable, and both of them have learned to never ever do that as a coping mechanism from their respective abusers.

we literally saw hell do this same thing to crowley!!!! they said find Gabriel and we’ll forgive everything you did wrong and make you a Duke of hell. and crowley went “lol yeah ok sure.” he was offered the same deal but he’s the one who’s always questioned things, it’s in his very nature. he’s seen how demons work, he knows better. and he’s seen how heaven works and how evil they can be, but aziraphale hasn’t, and can’t see past his nature of wanting to be capital G Good. so when he’s offered the same thing, he can’t see heaven may have ulterior motives, because that’s not holy or good, and that’s what heaven is supposed to be, right? questioning them would make me Bad and that’s the worst thing I can be.

obviously there’s more nuance to this that I can’t elaborate on right now. of course they hurt each other and that’s awful. of course they both have trauma, and there’s a million reasons crowley is rightfully insulted and devastated. but it goes So Much Deeper than “he chose heaven over him how mean!!!!!!!” both seasons of this show work to show us that the “good” guys are actually evil. that we need to question what we’ve been told is “good”. that heaven doesn’t give a damn about good. they are controlling and all they want to do is win. and they’ll use aziraphale for that in order to eliminate the threat that he and crowley pose together.

if you think that aziraphale is the bad guy here, you clearly missed the entire point of the show.

#good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #go2 #aziraphale #our boy is Traumatized big time yall #long post sorry

[autisticblueteam]

Appears from the ether again, after months of only being present enough to fill my queue up, with some WIP snippets from the gen:LOCK re-write I mentioned before...

And also finally adressing these tags lmao, sorry @thesouppond I realise these are like 3 months old.

#FUCK IM JUST SEEING THIS NOW???#FUCK YEAH 2024 SEASON OF EVERYONE GETS TO REWRITE GENLOCK CAUSE FUCK S2#Ahem anyway hi genlock moot :)))#I love your writing btw! Ive read your existing GL fics theyre great!#at this point if someone can give me a GL fic i havent already met I will forever be indebted to you i am DYING for GL content

We're really out here trying our best to do better by GL than HBO did huh!! I've been loving Reloaded, it was so nice to see someone else pop up in the gL tag after it was comparatively dead for so long. I've been working on my re-write since just after s2 came out and it was lonely in there for a while there lmao.

So I'm glad you enjoyed the couple of fics I've already done! I'm re-using parts of one of them for the actual re-write since I'm going for the 'keep the basic bones of s2 but aim to fix the execution into something less shit/re-work the worst bits' and I didn't want to write that first nemesis fight over again from total scratch lmao...

I want to finish writing all of the re-write before I post it in full, but that does mean it's taking forever whoops.

I'm still not past the introduction of Sinclair as his portion is so involved and I keep getting distracted by other projects/hobbies, but I did finally get to a point where my take on Sinclair is actually fun to write! I'm keeping his boyfriend because I did at least like that Sinclair was made canonically queer and they're actually cute when I'm just doing my own thing.

So since I feel like posting some WIP bits, here's my favourite Chris/Sinclair stuff I've done so far.

“YEAH! Take that you fucked up tin can!” Sinclair winced. The shout was like an ice pick being driven into his skull, but it was also what finally drove him to lift his head. There ahead of him, wielding a large piece of debris in one hand, was a heavyset Asian man dressed in torn clothes and covered in grime. He reared back, and for a split second Sinclair thought that projectile was for him, until he heard an impact, and the last of the humming died. The man brushed off his hands, pride written on every feature, and in that moment he was the most beautiful thing Sinclair had ever seen. “Coast’s clear!” the stranger called behind him. There was movement, but Sinclair didn’t care to look, his attention caught by the man’s approach. “And we’ve got a live one.” Sinclair’s throat was so dry he broke down coughing twice, in the time it took the stranger to kneel in front of him. “I-I’m not Union. I-I know— with the uniform, and the—” Another violent burst of coughing cut him off. The stranger handed him a canteen and a crooked smile. “Yeah, no shit. You’ve got way too much emotion on your face to be even a defector,” he said, and if Sinclair wasn’t so busy chugging the offered water, he might have mustered a laugh. “That, plus, the lack of helmet, the collapsing, and the drone getting ready to turn you into a novelty cheese grater kinda gave it away.” “Christ, I could kiss you right now,” Sinclair blurted and then regretted in quick succession. Fuck. He’d been in near solitary too long, his filter had worn away to nothing and he was making a damn fool of himself in front of the first sane people he’d seen in weeks. Except the stranger just… laughed, good-naturedly. “Close, the name’s Chris, not Christ. And I’d say buy me dinner first, but it’s a bit hard out here.”

AND then a little later...

“What about the refugee railroads?” Chris lowered his beer bottle and wiped his mouth. “Too far.” “Vanguard safe crossings?” “Too far.” “The— fucking Canadian border?” Chris laughed, “Too far. Further than either of the other things. Jesus, dude. You sure you haven’t got a concussion?” “Mostly,” Sinclair said, rubbing his face with his intact hand. “I just— you’re going to die if you stay here. A drone only has to get lucky once.” “And if we go deeper in, we’ll only die faster,” Chris said with a simple shrug. “We already have to pack up and move every few weeks when the line moves. And every time, the Polity border gets a little bit further away. Believe me, man, I want nothing more than to get outta here, but it’s just not happening.” “What if I helped?” The offer fell out before he’d consciously decided to make it, but Sinclair stood by it. Even when Chris looked at him dubiously. “No offence, dude, but you’re just one guy. And two days ago you could barely stand.” “And now I’m fine,” Sinclair insisted. “I’m a soldier. I was decorated for valour after I got my squad out of a run-in with the Union that should’ve killed us all. I was the only one who could even still hold a gun. I swear, I could get you somewhere safe. Are you really telling me you’d rather keep sitting around waiting to die than take a risk?” Chris’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t answer immediately, taking another swig from his scratched up bottle of beer. Sinclair sighed. “Look. I need to get to a Vanguard base one way or another. I don’t want to leave you guys behind if I don’t have to. I owe you my life. And maybe dinner.” Chris almost choked on his drink. “Wow,” he laughed, clearing his throat, “you sure pick your moments, huh?” Sinclair shrugged. “Figure if you’re not actually into it I’ll just blame the concussion.” “That you don’t have.” “Exactly.” Chris rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Smooth. Smooth operator. Alright, alright, fine, we’ll talk to the others in the morning. It might be a tougher sell when they’re not the ones getting dinner with a hot soldier out of it, but hey, guess we’ll see.” “Are you looking past the just-got-done-being-tortured chic, here, or is that part of the charm?” “Are you kidding? There’s a whole genre focused on how hot soldier guys look after they’ve been through hell.” “Not sure that’s the intended takeaway of action movies.” “Well,” Chris shrugged, starting to pick at a can of food, “it was definitely my takeaway.” Sinclair laughed. Honest-to-god laughed, in a way he was surprised he was even capable of after the last few weeks. The normality of the moment was like a balm on all the aching parts of him, mental and physical alike. For a moment he could almost forget that the reason he looked like shit was because he’d just escaped the worst experience of his life. For a moment it felt like the fight was over.

Now I just have to actually get through the remainder of my Sinclair set-up and then I'll be only one chapter away from finishing the first half of the fic... so close and yet so far lmao.

#blue is a writer #fic: the only me is me #gen:lock #each part is meant to be like a single season. so part 1 is like a new season 2 and part 2 is like a season 3 #and if i ever actually finish this. i might plan out a 'season 4' #the ending i have planned sets me up for it #i have grand ambitions and so little ability to sit down and just get it done LMAO

[cilil]

Can I send requests? For example (Campfire Summer Stories 23) , Melkor seducing Maritimo and being fucked by him in Valinor

Summer Stories '23

Author's Note: You can and here it is~ thanks for the prompt, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Character(s): Melkor x Maedhros | Campfire Synopsis: Set during Melkor's time in Valinor. After failing to gain Fëanor's favour, Melkor decides to seduce his eldest son instead. Warnings: Smut (consensual, but Melkor is Melkor)

"Such a beautiful, exquisite shade of red, like the colour of fire."

Maitimo sat completely still when Melkor wrapped a strand of his hair around his index finger, eyes darting back and forth between the Vala and the campfire nearby. 

"Out of all the elements I wield it is my favourite," Melkor continued, toying with the strand until it slipped through his fingers as Maitimo lowered his head ever so slightly. 

"You flatter me, my lord."

Practised and polite, his face betrayed nothing, Melkor noted, yet he could see his tension. 

Thinking he could fool a Vala. Adorable.

He smiled. Countless sweet lies rested on his tongue, ready to be unleashed upon Maitimo, but what he had said about his hair was very much genuine. Melkor had always been partial to all things bright and fiery and was glad that the prince he had coincidentally – very much intentionally – chanced upon in the wilderness of Aman was as lovely as he was; it would make it less disappointing to pursue someone that wasn't Fëanáro himself. 

"And I appreciate your company very much, but I wouldn't want to hold you up any longer." 

Clever little Elda. Melkor's smile broadened, and he suppressed a laugh. Maitimo knew as well as he did what Fëanáro would say if he saw them together, but he had no intentions of letting this opportunity go so easily. Out here, he could seduce the prince and toy with him to his heart's content, without having to worry about anyone else interfering. 

"How considerate of you," Melkor said, still smiling as he moved closer to Maitimo, "but fortunately I have all the time in the world and would like to keep you company a while longer." 

Surely he would be able to tempt him somehow; there were always strong emotions and hidden weaknesses within the hearts of the Eldar. And when his hands found the prince's shoulders, gently rubbing tense muscles, Melkor sensed it – the way his hröa seemed to instinctively accept the warm caress of his hands, the tiny, shaky breath that left his lips when his palms made contact with his skin, how his gaze rested on his long black hair as it fell forward and down his chest like spilled ink and the twinge of desire within his heart, carefully concealed and tucked away. 

Maitimo shivered slightly, and Melkor knew he had already deciphered the true meaning of his words and gestures. 

"My lord, I... I'm not sure..." 

"About what, my prince?" 

Melkor was merciless, his eyes staring right into Maitimo's fëa, the light within their brilliant, frosty depths eclipsing their surroundings. Hidden underneath his Elven fána, his ëala rejoiced; soon the prince would be under his spell. 

Maitimo seemed unsure of what to say and how to proceed. The poor thing certainly hadn't expected such an encounter with a Vala, let alone the one his father so despised, but with a bit of encouragement Melkor would soon have him where he wanted him. Now that he had caught a glimpse of his heart, he wasn't going to stop until he had gotten exactly what he wanted. 

"Is it my current appearance, Maitimo? Would you prefer it if I looked like someone else?" 

"No."

The answer was too quick, too forceful. Melkor chuckled. So he had been thinking about something or someone – too bad he couldn't force him to reveal it. He wouldn't mind indulging Maitimo's hidden fantasies, simply because it would involve baring more of his fëa to him, and there was little he enjoyed more in this world than exploring the deepest, darkest desires in the hearts of others.

Maitimo took another shaky breath. "What you want I cannot give you –"

"And what if I gave it to you?" 

Melkor's voice silenced his protest once more and the piercing light of his unblinking gaze continued to torment him. 

"W-what do you mean?" 

"Exactly what I said." 

He leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "If you will not give yourself to me, I am willing to give myself to you." 

"You mean –" 

"Yes." 

Melkor lowered his head to kiss the side of his neck, causing Maitimo's breath to hitch in his throat. 

"You shall see that I do not lie. Unless of course..." He laughed lightly. "... You are too much of a coward to receive a Vala's favour."

"I am not!"

There it was. Fëanáro's fiery pride, flaring up in the fëa of his eldest, and wild laughter bubbled in Melkor's chest like a geyser about to erupt. He didn't move when Maitimo shook off his hands and lips and turned to glare at him. 

"You will not call me a coward, Melkor." 

If he had hoped to anger the Vala, he was disappointed when Melkor merely grinned at him, showing off his sharp teeth. 

"Why don't you make me sing your praises instead, Maitimo? The offer still stands." 

Maitimo hesitated. Even though he was tempted by pride, desire and curiosity alike, he was visibly unsure how to take what was offered to him, how to establish dominance over the Vala who was so carelessly and cruelly tapping into his emotions to lure him in. 

Impatient, Melkor lowered himself to the ground and lazily snapped his fingers, letting blue flames engulf his fána to burn away his robes and leave him bare in front of the prince. Maitimo recoiled, yet it was over as swiftly as it had begun, and he was left to stare at the nude Vala. No longer was he able to conceal the hunger in his eyes as he gazed upon the tantalising image of flawlessly sculpted flesh, a marvellous union of might and beauty alike, skillfully crafted by the divine hands of one who knew the ways of lust and passion. 

"Do you expect me to do everything myself, Maitimo?" Melkor taunted, then held out his hand. "Come now. And worry not – I won't use my fire against you."

He could see in Maitimo's eyes that he had won. He could see it when the prince inched closer to him, could feel it when his hands slowly reached for him, first only letting his fingertips brush over his skin, then touching, stroking, gripping and exploring with more and more confidence. His fate was already sealed when he bent down to taste his lips and was drawn into a heated, fiery kiss that forced him to battle the Vala for dominance until Melkor parted his lips to let him taste the sweetness of victory, drunk with euphoria. 

He rewarded Maitimo with soft moans and purrs whenever he touched him, letting the music of his voice guide and entice him. It was as if a spell had been cast on the lovely prince, his eyes, hands and lips fully focused on his task, excited and enchanted when he was faced with the Vala's shameless display of arousal. 

"Do you... need me to prepare you?" Maitimo asked when his hands finally made their way further downwards, ready to start claiming the prize he had been promised. 

Melkor smirked up at him, spreading his legs provocatively to grant access. It was strangely endearing that a fragile incarnate was worried about his comfort even after he had taunted and toyed with him, but he was indeed planning to make this easy and pleasant for both of them. 

"I am ready for you, my prince," he purred, focusing his will on his fána to relax his muscles and lubricate himself before pulling his knees closer to his chest. 

Come. Take me, his entire form seemed to whisper, and Maitimo was no longer resisting its allure. Despite the Vala's greater size and strength, he placed one leg on his shoulder after hastily freeing his cock and gripped his hips to push inside. He was expecting resistance, Melkor could tell, watching his brows knit together and listening to his gasping breaths, but his tight, hot passage welcomed him eagerly. Maitimo was silent, not uttering a single word, yet the way his eyes fluttered close and his lips parted further to release a soundless moan betrayed the pleasure he felt. 

Melkor was content to simply lie on the ground and let him use his fána as he pleased. When Maitimo began moving inside him, he was tempted to close his eyes as well and let his mind wander, but he decided against it. No, he wanted to savour the successful seduction of Fëanáro's eldest, listening to the small noises he made, memorising his voice, feeling the emotions swirling around inside his fëa so he might never forget his touch, taking bits and pieces from him even as he let the prince take him. 

Maitimo had needs, Melkor knew, and they were finally being met. He took him with more vigour and determination than he had anticipated, and he allowed the Elda to fuck him as he pleased. An incarnate lover would surely feel such a pounding for days, the Vala thought with idle amusement when Maitimo proceeded to thrust harder and faster until he released inside him with a desperate groan, no longer able to hold back. Melkor let his muscles clench around him, enjoying the sweet torment of milking every last drop out of him while stroking himself to completion.

Maitimo nearly collapsed when he was graciously freed from the tight embrace of his fána and sat on his heels, panting heavily, his eyes unfocused as if he was in a trance, both exhausted and bewildered by what had just happened. Melkor rose to a seated position with his usual poise and elegance, as if he hadn't just let a Noldorin prince fuck him like a common whore, and leaned forward to plant a deceptively innocent kiss on his cheek. 

"I thank you, Maitimo," he whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You know how to keep a Vala company." 

Maitimo's mind was a whirlwind of unrest, he could sense it clearly now that his guard was down and his willpower eroded. Questions kept plaguing his consciousness while conflicting emotions drowned out all coherent thoughts, causing him to remain quiet. Melkor allowed himself to linger for a few more moments, curious if he would attempt to ask or say something, then decided the prince would likely soon return to his composed self in favour of baring more of his fëa to him. He was content to let his own feelings torment him for the moment, to let the sweet taste of pleasure grow into a need for more, to let whichever secret desires he harboured take root in his heart and mind. 

"I look forward to seeing you again, my dear prince," Melkor's voice whispered in his ear as he vanished into thin air. 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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taglist: @bluezenzennie @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

#melkor #morgoth #maedhros #maitimo #nelyafinwe #melkor x maedhros #oneshot #silm smut #minors dni #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #cílil writes #my writing

[trashcatsnark]

Just rambling because I really wanna be feral about my bg3 tav and dont have a place to really do so lmao but my little rotted brain wanted to play with the whole- tadpole fucks with previous conditions/characters shit. Ala making Astarion able to walk in sunlight and and seemingly making Gale's orb hungrier/less stable (judging off the first artefact helping him as usual but then the second one doesnt)

And I don't do fantasy often but since arcana Ive always wanted to play with a character with a enchantment/spell on them that makes people forget them shortly after meeting them. Unable to form lasting connections and living a life thats almost entirely in isolation (i love lonely transient bitches)

So, my tav, Petra (half wood elf, rogue/ranger) ran away from a shitass abusive life with her now dead partner who casted the enchantment on them both, so only they could remember one another. Being each other's entire world. Shit happens, her lover dies, but the enchantment is binded to their instrument (lover was a bard)

Which is all build up to say, she had and only wanted a cozy insignificant existence, because significance just means giving people the power to hurt her/being known means vulnerability and yet now thanks to the tadpole, she is being perceived and thats horrifying enough- i also really love the extent that Petra contradicts with many of the companions in terms of the idea of ambition and desire.

For so many of the companions (except Karlach really) insignificance is their like nightmare. Gale has both an innate hunger f for power because he derives his sense of self-worth from being a powerful, significant, and impressive wizard. Gale of Waterdeep, chosen of Mystra, deep down he does want a more simple life of relaxing in his tower and idly reading, and cooking for someone he loves but he can't ever seem to fully shake this feeling that when he sees power or opportunity he must grasp it because without talent, power, significance, magic, utility- he thinks he has no worth at all. Astarion craves power, once you start to enter act 2, he starts to talk about how he thinks the player has ambition and that maybe heyyy you can use that ambition for me? Because to him ambition and power, his own or using someone elses is how he'll find a way to permanently escape his abuse. He says he's not content to sculk in the shadows, what good is freedom if he doesn't have the power to make sure he'll never lose it. Wyll, the blade of frontiers, wanting desperately to help everyone- be a hero, make the sword coast proud in a way he never could make his father. He wants to matter, he wants to be important, he is forever burdened by the weight of his mistakes- the pact that binds him, never able to feel free of it and just wants the world to look at him and see something good.

Lae'zel fears insignificance, this is stated plain as day in the scene where she threatens the player, if you choose to probe her thoughts. She's doesn't care if she dies, if her skull splits, and tentacles writhe through her flesh- she's terrified it will happen before her queen ever knows her name, that she'll never be more than a failed soldier, that she'll never wield the silver sword or ride a red dragon. That she'll die before she feels she ever mattered.

Shadowheart wants to be a dark justiciar, she wants to be of value to her god, she wants to matter- similarly to Lae'zel, ironic given their hostility, but it is the same ultimate goal. She doesn't want to be no one, she doesn't just want to be another follower who's struck with pain, mind wiped tirelessly, and nothing to show for it- she wants her pain to have purpose, meaning, even if it's just serving the god causing it. Karlach is already a bit of an oddity in terms of, she never really seems to be scrounging for power and signficance and in fact- her power, her strength, her ability is what led to Zariel choosing her as her attack dog. So, while she's a bit more similar in not having a heavy desire for power, ambition, and a goal beyond- not wanting to be hurt, the desire for freedom and life on her terms. They still differ so greatly in terms of- Karlach lost out on getting to be a part of life for so long, she misses people, connection, and she doesn't want to avoid life because it hurt her, she wants to take back the parts stolen from her- she wants to live and be apart of the world finally again on her terms. Even if it kills her.

And my brain just kind of buzzing and feral for this idea of how she somehow finds herself thrusted into not only being perceived, being surrounded by people who are learning who she is, knowing parts of her she hasn't shared, and also being asked to... lead. When it's never truly been something she craves and even overwhelms her, but it finds her regardless and how she helps ground for many of them their grappling for power/ambition while for her they help her find that... she deserves to be a part of the world around her, that she can touch the world around her and make a difference. And she's no less guilty of wanting something that's bad for her, that she's been alive but not truly living and returning to that loneliness once the tadpole is plucked out won't be peace, won't be contentment, isn't freedom, because it was never that to begin with- she was just languishing in isolation and grief as a living ghost.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #laezel #karlach cliffgate #karlach #bg3 tav #petra of nowhere in particular #something something the balance between being desperate to prove you matter and resigning yourself to the idea you never can #something something the fight of needing to be seen to feel like you matter but the horrifying ordeal of being known #will you forever languish for more knowing you'll never be sated or do you starve yourself so you may learn to live with hunger

[gayrobos]

i would fucking love to read your author's-commentary on the stunticon friends comics! maybe not like in the individual update posts but i know spoilers don't really stop me from enjoying anything and it'd be cool to hear about the stuff that can't quite be shown yet :D

WELL OKAY IF YOU INSIST hehe. it's mostly thoughts about people's relationships. and a lot of it is thoughts about people's relationships with motormaster. a nice relaxing 1.5k of authors notes which doesn't contain spoilers for future plot per se.

I kind of think of this comic as being about... what is decepticon culture, and how does it impact people who've been in it and also their adopted human teen. I've joked that the reason the stunticons are here on earth is because they joined the "kick around people who are weaker than you" faction and they were shocked, SHOCKED when someone stronger than them started kicking them around. so they went to a place where nobody's stronger than them ::)

mikki, meanwhile, is in a super weird place about this because they're. not actually strong at all. EXCEPT when they're with the stunticons. so they have this mindset that they're top dog and they can do anything they want but that's not going to be true if they actually leave and they do know this. they know that if they want to maintain the power they have they need to stay with these people who seemed so normal to them and who they are realizing are seriously not normal. who are frightening. who have never been what they seemed to mikki. it makes a teen ask some questions! or stubbornly refuse to ask themself any questions!

the stunticons of course also refuse to do any amount of self-examination. they came out here to do nothing more and nothing less than have a good time at other people's expense. but they're each deeply neurotic in their own special ways, largely but not exclusively because of their time under motormaster's command.

wildrider has always been Like that. as in, needs a lot of stimulation or she will rip up the furniture and chew through someone's face. putting her under the command of a huge control freak like motormaster was kind of a dumb idea, because they were constantly butting heads. except motormaster is four times wildrider's size and can squish her like a toyota corolla. thankfully wildrider has never ever learned a lesson in her life and just kept on antagonizing motormaster forever until she got sick of being beat up for ignoring orders and wandering off to shred things and. you know. impaled her. basically wildrider's injuries were purely physical because she wasn't that afraid of the consequences of defying motormaster or more broadly decepticon command. nobody else got off that easy. (EDIT: I completely forgot to mention how ashamed wildrider is of every time she made a compromise for the sake of her safety. which wasn't all the time, but she sees it as cowardice, not self-preservation. she HAS been altered by motormaster; it showed her a side of herself she hates and now she's got to be even more recklessly aggressive to prove she's not a coward.)

dead end has spent a long time making herself into a tool to be wielded. if you never expect anything good to happen you can't be disappointed! and this doesn't extend just to motormaster, you know? the entire decepticon army runs on "shut up, do what you're told, perform viciousness." wildrider is in some ways the perfect decepticon. dead end sucks at it, but she CAN shut up and do what she's told. she's very good at killing people but she doesn't much like it. I think motormaster has probably told her a lot of times that she's only good for one thing and she's not that good at it. she really really longs to connect with people but she's also terrified of it (for good reason, since she's gotten burned a lot) and in the present she's still pretty withdrawn even from the other stunticons. mikki felt like a safer option because they're just a little alien and if we feed them and tame them they won't be able to leave! and then: uh-oh. dead end caught feelings. she should know better by now.

breakdown, we haven't seen that much of her being neurotic because she's been in a really safe place for four years. the humans can't touch her. she doesn't have to leave her ship. she doesn't even have to talk to the other stunticons if she doesn't want to, mostly. historically she has been a LOT weirder. and we'll see some of that soon ::) to motormaster she was suuuuch an easy target for isolation. you can tell her to always stay in the comms room and she'll just do it! you can tell the rest of your crew to play pranks on her and gaslight her and they will because it's funny and you're decepticons! you can tell her in private that it was their idea! to breakdown, motormaster is THE number one trustworthy person. which isn't to say that breakdown doesn't fear her, it's just that motormaster can't "betray" you. what would that mean. it's meaningless. this is part of why I'm so insane about wildbreak. breakdown is like, yeah, wildrider is violent and kind of unpredictable and she thinks it's funny to torment me, AND she keeps trying to get me to break the rules. the only way to deal with this is to play along enough to get her to keep it a secret. and also she's hot and I desperately want to hurt someone because I feel so angry and helpless all the time. like! the only person breakdown trusts is also the implicit threat whenever she's with wildrider??? the only connection she'll allow herself to have is with someone she truly dislikes and who has never treated her well! neither of them can ever admit they care about each other as more than fight club buddies because their affection is all twisted up in hatred and their clashing personalities and the way they've been intentionally set against each other!!! AUGH

post-motormaster they just hit each other and have sex like regular people. but watch out!

okay and finally we come to drag strip. who as I'm sure you've noticed needs desperately to be liked by everyone and for nobody to be mad at her specifically and also each other. this is a terrible coping mechanism for dealing with motormaster, but it's the one she developed! and it kind of fucked her over because at the crucial moment she didn't join in on killing motormaster. her loyalties were very much divided between the one person who was most important to make happy and the people she intellectually knew were on her side. and now she's always going to be the one who didn't want motormaster dead. and she's always going to be thinking about how everyone else is thinking that. but everything's fine as long as they still laugh at her jokes.

it's been SO fun to plot out the stunticons falling the fuck apart because the foundation of their trust in each other has always been rotten. house of robot usher over here. there's a lot of decepticons out here who feel genuine camaraderie despite (because of!) the way that their military culture encourages them to turn on anyone who isn't performing decepticonness well enough, but, um, that's not the stunticons. living and fighting together for thousands of years just gave them a LOT of beef to pretend they don't have with each other. despite themselves they do all genuinely care for mikki, but their model for caring about someone is "war buddy" which kinda comes down to "do fun shit with them and save their life." and none of them have the capacity to admit (even to themselves) that they have real feelings for someone!! that would be seriously uncool and not macho et c. so you get situations like mikki passive-aggressively going WOW NOBODY HERE CARES ABOUT ME OR EVEN THINKS I'M A PERSON! and getting crickets in response.

whew.

okay, what about motormaster? what's her deal?

funnily enough I've not done that much development on her since she's barely gotten any screentime. so some of what I'm saying here is solidifying for the first time. (I don't really write a lot of notes, just scripts.) like I said, she's a control freak. and an egotist. she needs to claim credit for the victories of everyone under her command, and she's a pretty fucking bad leader which is why she only has four subordinates. but she's unbelievably effective on the battlefield, and that ability transfers well to menasor. a win for the decepticons. truly, what is there to say about her? in this story she's defined by what she does to other people. I won't get into the metaphors that we'll see in stunticomix endgame (teehee), but from a narrative point of view she's literally nothing without them. she's more the spectre of decepticon culture than she is a person, yk?

so the stakes of this story are: can the stunticons overcome millennia of indoctrination, abuse, and generally sucking in order to have a genuine relationship with like 1 person who doesn't have that baggage? can they allow themselves to care about ANYTHING? originally the script I wrote (with arcee's help <3 hi arcee) calls for the answer to be yes, they can pledge themselves to a cause they decided for themselves and yes they can build a community. but you know what? reading all this shit it's really hard to believe that they can do any of that. VOTE IN THE REPLIES will y'all be mad at me if this turns out to be a tragedy. lmao.

#stunticon friends #red I like ur characterizations so much. especially your dead end. I really cherish him. #every day I'm thinking about dead end in your valentine fanfiction #this has nothing to do with the post uhhh I just think your fic is neat #and it stands in contrast to my approach which has to serve The Themes Of The Work (and my regrettable tendency toward understatement) #OKAY PEACE THIS HAS TAKEN ME A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF TIME TO TYPE UP AND I'M SICK OF AGONIZING OVER IT

[halcyon-writings]

(i watched tlovm, that’s my only excuse lmaooo also some wv references abound, plus it’s a bit of a doozy.)

nav.

-

if there was on thing you truly detested in this moment, was remembering that you still had sweet rolls stored away at the keep. you would have definitely preferred lounging around in your robe while eating them, not being here fighting for your life (again).

"percy, dear, you're truly one of my beloved friends and i value your companionship more than anything, but why the hell did anyone in your family not tell you about this underground shithole?" your tone is saccharine and you smile gently.

although your smile drops as you're quick to duck and roll out of the way from an incoming spell sent by delilah briarwood. the eeriness from the dark magic she utilized made a chill crawl on your skin. you could've sworn you heard screaming too.

your own spells could barely counter, but you were more focused on protecting your friends from the black magic than actually getting a hit in.

from the corner of your eye, you see scanlan running around, fuck, of course, he was silenced.

the glow of pike’s magic at least gave you the assurance that he was at least okay.

you try your best to make your way further up the stairs, bursts of red erupt from your hands, but they barely make a dent in the other's defenses. however, from what you can see, her expression unnerves you. gone is the smirk, replaced by a knowing one as she eyes your magic. she continues fighting with one hand, the other viewing a compass she had taken from a side pocket of her dress.

"welcome, herald."

you look at her confused.

"sorry lady briarwood, you must have mistook me for someone else," and you don't let her respond, gathering your magic and sending it her way in a wide wave (wincing as you feel yourself getting weak, nonstop magic use was, in fact, not the best thing to do before fighting on some temple that would summon something that could end the world).

she's disappeared from your gaze, and your eyes dart around searching for where she could have teleported herself to.

"you truly do not know of your role here?" her voice is but a whisper in your ear, and you just barely turn as her magic feels like a punch to the chest, sending you crashing to the floor some feet away. air burns your lungs as you wheeze. you just barely stand on wobbly feet, you see her dark magic headed your way, and while you brace yourself with your arms in front of you, you know you don't have enough time to cast anything.

you catch someone screaming your name. and you curse, closing your eyes.

but the pain does not come.

instead you see the magic simply stop before you. previously dark in color, you see it slowly turn into the magic you wield, the weariness that you had felt slowly fade away.

your eyes squint at the sudden brightens that comes from what you thought was nowhere, only to find keyleth standing, one hand on her staff and the other raised high- grog holding a struggling sylas and you have a feeling on what they’re going for.

only when you see the ashes of what remained of sylas briarwood, do you think that maybe you guys can win this.

-

okay... so maybe you were lying to yourself a little. with the now widowed lady briarwood locking herself away in some chamber, and nothing working so far as lock picking goes (even grog looked a little disheartened when his axe bounced off the door, sympathetic pats from you and pike helped slightly).

“alright,” you clap your hands, gathering the group’s attention, “how do we want to do this? because lockpicking, no offense vax, is not exactly working in our favor.”

“well if you all shut up and let me work-” he begins to retort, only for a sudden vacuum of air to throw the doors that had been previously impermeable shut, open. it sucks in debris of small rocks and bricks that were a result of the battle, but percy, who’s eyes you noticed were an eerie black, pushes forward.

various voices call out for him, only for the calls of worry to fall on deaf ears. you all needed to stop delilah from summoning this ‘whispered one’ anyway, but percy’s erratic behavior only served to up the ante on the pressure.

you share an uncertain look with keyleth, reaching out as you give her hand a gentle squeeze. “if you can literally become the sun,” you begin lightheartedly, “you can do anything.”

she smiled weakly, “yeah, yeah you’re right.”

there is no time for further conversation, as the glow of the altar only continues to progress and an unnatural lightning crackles around the lady.

you keep to the sides, as everyone remains in the center path, gaze strictly on what delilah focuses on, a... spinning orb? it begins to take shape of a distorted figure.

it’s familiar.

your palms sweat.

“so you have come to your senses,” delilah calls, “no matter, i will welcome the whispered one with or without your help.”

you remain silent, eyes only focused on the apparition. however you did it the first time, you pray you can absorb that magic again.

you don’t even realize that vex’ahlia shot an arrow that strikes the other woman in the back, without even looking at her direction, you continue forward.

delilah’s cries for the whispered one to reveal itself to you all go unanswered. her tone becomes desperate.

“this can’t be all there is!” she screams. you hear the shot of the pepper box.

then, you hear something calling your name.

in your trance like state, you simply, reach forward, and magic flows through you. so do visions.

destruction, emptiness, death. the whispered one is their progenitor. you see your friends, despite valiant efforts, defeated or dead. you’re nowhere to be found.

as you look around, you realize why you’re not there. because, as delilah had said, you were the herald. dutifully fulfilling your role in preventing anything from getting in it’s way. the obstacles? Vox Machina.

you could only fall to your knees in silent terror as you realize what you would do.

“-__!”

the magic continues to flow through you, until all that remains is the spinning orb. you feel something wet trickle down your mouth and towards your chin. but you cannot stop.

“____!!”

you look up, and your friends look at you concerned.

the spinning slows, runes grow surround it. you pray they hold up. you weren’t going to kill them, not your friends, your family.

delilah’s gaze is pure venom. but you don’t find it in yourself to care. the runes are done, the sphere is sealed.

you would not be the signal of the whispered one’s return, not today.

you step around the altar anyway, the unsettled feeling lingering in the back of your mind. stumbling on the last step as you fall to your hands and knees. you hear droplets onto the cobblestone, ah, it was your nose bleeding.

you’re given a hand by percy’s sister, cassandra, you nod gratefully as you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

when you notice, you’re quick to move towards the twins and keyleth, kneeling beside them (oh your poor knees, you were truly putting them through the ringer today, huh).

your hand brushing against keyleth’s forehead as her breathes stagger. you curse yourself for getting distracted, you search your own bag for something, anything that could help your friend while pike heals her.

pike’s apparition disperses, and dread only gnaws at you all further.

you try and soothe her with your magic, only for nothing to happen, wisps of it barely touching her. even scanlan can barely conjure up the giant hand, as it seems to flicker in and out. carefully you all move away from the spinning death orb, runes still glowing brightly around it.

dark veins grow on keyleth’s skin as she’s once more laid gently on the ground.

so you try again.

to your relief it works, the veins recede for a moment, but as you pull your hands away, they quickly return as they went.

“i think i can hold off the corruption for now,” you warn, “you need to act quick.”

and with scanlan’s creative, for a lack of a better word, rhymes, what begins to heal her is a quick concoction of dirt and spit. you almost find yourself laughing again.

the respite, as short as it was, is quickly put to an end when once more, black smoke gathers around percy, his mask donned, and pepper box raised.

it’s keyleth, now conscious, who reminds everyone that percy isn’t himself.

“he’s not in control,” she murmurs weakly, repeating it for you all to hear.

“i know, i know, but right now you’re not in any condition to fight, we just have to trust them to get our percy back.”

she nods, her head droops slightly, you tilt her head back up.

“stay awake for me, kiki,” you whisper, her eyes flutter open. the two of you can only watch as a literal demon crawls from the smoke at percy’s back, taunting the group. your hands glow, ready to defend keyleth and yourself.

you make eye contact with scanlan, as the giant hand dissipates before percy can shoot at it again, delilah drops unceremoniously on the floor.

which is where you lead, using your magic to move delilah so that scanlan could aid the twins and grog.

the bard casts an illusion to hide you and keyleth while you do.

you don’t know anything about the demon that has taken the reins of your friends body, had you the energy, you’d gladly kick its ass (and possibly percy’s for worrying you all). you have no choice but to hope that he reaches his senses in time. lest he be lost to the demon forever.

-

all it took for percy was shooting himself in the foot, metaphorically of course. in a literal sense, it was his hand. the smoke dispersing in the air.

and you let the shield protecting yourself and keyleth drop, but a hand is still tentatively raised.

both briarwoods having been dealt with, whitestone was now free.

“so uh, spinning ball of death there? is that something we’re gonna talk about or what?” scanlan quickly points out, as you all prepare to go back above ground.

you let out a wheeze of laughter despite yourself, before it becomes a cough. percy reaches to grab a handkerchief or something for you, but you wave it off.

“what’s there to say?” you shrug, your voice raspy, “it’s sealed off for now, no one’s getting near it or touching it.”

“right...” scanlan looks only a little unconvinced but only just. you inhale, closing your eyes while sensing the runes still holding strong.

you open them again as scanlan tosses the pepperbox in the vat of acid, percy’s indignant squawk echoing throughout.

“do you know how long that took to make?? and the resources it took?” you could have sworn you saw a pout on his lips.

his arguments are proven naught, as the demon that had attached itself to him through that weapon quickly tries to escape the acid, only to burn away with it in the acid as well.

“well, i’ll be damned, thank you, scanlan.”

you and vax share a look, him using his hand to cover his mouth and you hiding a laugh with another cough.

while you all continued to trek to the above ground, you still couldn’t help but give the ziggurat more glances, delilah’s words echoing in your mind.

you sealed off the orb, yes. but you still felt uneasy. before you all left whitestone, you’d be sure to scour through the materials delilah had left behind. perhaps reading through them would give you the answers you needed, or at least a jumpstart.

#I was gonna use the cr tag but idk bc #this is based around the animated series and not the show as I am still watching it #and if you see the line breaks it’s bc these were all gonna originally be separate ficlets but I’m posting them all together anyway ahahaha #tlovm x reader #vox machina x reader #the legend of vox machina x reader #tlovm imagines #vox machina imagines #mine #herald!verse

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

ORJWUFIWUJECIRQVIFW IFW IXQ HOW DOES GAVIN MEET NINES

BOI AM I GLAD YOU ASKED

okay, strap in cause this gonna be one hell of a story

It's been months since Connor last saw his brother, and the last time he saw him he had killed a fellow Inquisitor in order for him and Hank to escape. Nines had finally renounced the Empire, but did not join them as they ran, and it took all of Hank's strength to hold him back as Nines turned and ran away from them.

And the first news Connor hears, is of a rogue Imperial agent being held prisoner in a Force-sensitive containment cell. There's a chance it isn't Nines, but what other choice do they have? And even if it isn't his brother, at the very least they'd be releasing another Force-sensitive from the Empire's grasp.

So Connor brings his plan to Hank, and the old Lieutenant knows that when Connor has his mind set on something, there's no stopping him. So why the hell not?

But it's a four-man plan, so they need to call in some favors.

Luckily, they know a rebel smuggler and bounty hunter duo who love to fuck with the Empire. So in comes Gavin Reed and Tina Chen ;).

Gavin owes Connor a favor anyway and what better way of getting even than breaking out his apparent clone brother out of the Empire's clutches? The conversation goes something like this:

Gavin: Okay let me see if i got this straight Connor: Okay Gavin: we're gonna break into an Imperial base Connor: Yes Gavin: To rescue your brother Connor: Yes Gavin: whose your clone Connor: we're both clones Gavin: Who tried to kill you Connor: Yes Gavin: And he used to be an Inquisitor Connor: Yes. Although to be fair he didn't really try to kill us, he just had to pretend to. Gavin: Not making me feel better. Connor: Sorry Gavin: We're out-manned Connor: Yes Gavin: out-gunned Connor: Heavily Gavin: And what are the chances we'll make it out without one of us getting caught or blasted out of the sky? Connor: Very low Gavin: …. Gavin: ah kriff it, i got nothing better to do on Saturday

So here we find Gavin! He's working the comms and has agreed to be the getaway pilot, ain't no way in hell he's letting anybody else fly his ship, and all is going well and dandy until the comms shut off in the middle of the mission and there's four minutes of silence.

And in those four minutes of silence, the alarms go off, Stormtroopers start to flood the courtyard, several explosions erupt from the facility, and when the comms come back to life Hank is cussing up a storm. Gavin sees Hank and Tina rushing to the rendezvous point and climb into the ship as fast as possible, already moving towards the blaster cockpits to fend off the troops coming their way. And just as Gavin is about to ask where Connor and his brother are, the sounds of lightsabers vibrating cut through the air.

When Gavin looks, he finds someone almost identical to Connor with piercing silver-blue eyes, wielding Hank's orange lightsaber with deadly precision and making his way to the ship. He's making quick work of taking down battle droids, probes, and Stormtroopers. Each strike is specific and calculated and flows together seamlessly as he incapacitates everything in his path.

Connor's bringing up the rear, defending them both with just as much efficiency as they make their way to the ship, but Gavin can't help but notice that his brother's movements flow more naturally. He can tell that he's been training for years, the lessons he's learned having been well ingrained in both mind and body by now.

And in that moment Gavin's brain short-circuits as another explosion goes off and Nines barely flinches, his eyes set only on the ship's entrance.

And Gavin comes to realize several things... 1. This guy is badass 2. that explosion was way too well timed, wtf, was that on purpose?? 3.

#dbh #star wars dbh au #nines rk900 #nines dbh #reed900 #hehehehehehehehehehehehe #star wars #LIKE MY DUDE #THIS MEETING IS EVERYTHING TO ME #AND IT JUST GETS BETTER FROM THERE

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 85: Throw Your Arms Around the World

A chilly wind blows through the muggy, smog-choked sky over Los Angeles, painted gray by thick silver clouds rolling in. Fall is coming.

Shizuka leans against a tree in Calvary Cemetery, a few yards away from a headstone that reads: ‘KILO STAPLES. Beloved Friend. A good man.’ A few rows down, stands the stone reading ‘MOYA PEZZENTE. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.’

Six days have passed since the fight on Mulholland Drive. T’onga awaits her trial in a small penitentiary. Shizuka has not gone to visit her, due to the contents of the letter smuggled into her blazer when she was being ‘held hostage’. While under medical care, she read the letter countless times. Now, against the tree in Calvary Cemetery, she reads it again.

This is the way it must be. The police could not know they were related. For all they knew, T’onga was no more than knife-wielding maniac, and Shizuka the innocent hostage she had threatened. This is what T’onga herself wanted. Shziuka knows this, but still hates it. For the hundredth time, she reads her mother’s small writing.

A̶e̶-̶j̶e̶o̶n̶g̶

M̶y̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶r̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶A̶e̶-̶j̶e̶o̶n̶    

D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶A̶e̶

Shizuka

First off, sorry for springing this on you. I already know. ae-jeong is just the name i gave you. doesn’t mean it's the one you want. If you don’t want it, discard it. live how you want.

While I'm at it, sore REALLY SORRY about what i’m about to do. holding you hostage, I mean. it has to look real for the cops, so can’t tell you (should have apologized for that first. sorry)

As for why, i already told you i don't want you to live the same way i did. thats why All-kill had to die. That's why i have to do what I'm gonna do. without this show, the two of us will be nothing but a pair of creeps looting the ruins. But with this, you’re just an innocent bystander. This way, you can still have a future. I wont take that away from you.

But again, I already know what this will seem like. Another abandonment. for real this time. no excuses.

This’ll sound like a bad joke, but I have faith in the justice system. They can’t prove I killed anyone, but can pin me with threatening with a deadly weapon. That’s a life sentence. But with a decent lawyer and some money I have saved up, I can bump that down to at least 14 years.

I'll serve that time quietly. Eventually they’ll let me out. early, if I'm very well behaved. Then if you’ll have me, I will come back to you.

I want to see Upstate. the Finger Lakes. 

This is NOT goodbye.

Your loving mother,

Kim T’onga

PS. i almost forgot. Kim is spelled 김, but if you prefer, you can go with Yeoh: 영. Your choice.

At the final line, Shizuka softly smiles. She folds the paper until it's small enough to once again be stowed away in her blazer, alongside the silver disc. The disc of LONELY BOY and SATURN BARZ, and whatever else came before. Sensing someone approach, she looks to see Jerome approaching her.

“You OK, girl?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” is her answer as she stands. “What about you?”

“Me? Ay, don’t worry ‘bout me…” The rapper looks sombrely towards the graves. “It’s good. He woulda liked it this way. Buried next to Moya… He never woulda let on, but I think they was best friends…”

With a frown, Shizuka exclaims, “Eh?”

Jerome responds in kind. “Eh?”

“...What do you mean?”

“...What you mean ‘what do I mean?’”

The girl cocks her head, fixing the rapper with her gaze. “You were Kilo’s best friend. Duh.”

“Me…?” Jerome exclaims. “Me, huh…? Nah… I don’t think so. But fuck it… I was close enough. That’s good enough for me.” He smiles at her, and she smiles back at him. “You got your ticket?”

Producing a plane ticket from her blazer pocket, Shizuka answers, “All booked. It’s time I went home. Vacations are lots of fun, but… they have to end sometime.”

Nodding, the rapper offers, “Sure you don’t want a ride or nothin’? I can hook you up. Shit, I’d take you myself.”

“Jerome, you’ve already done so much for me. I feel so lucky to have met you. You don’t need to do anything more, the Speedwagon Foundation is sending someone to pick me up.”

“Pleasure was all mine! Oh… Uh, speaking of the Speedwagon Foundation… Would you mind keepin’ a secret for me? Thing is, I… I been keepin’ a record of’ all this. Like, in journals and stuff…”

Shizuka is surprised. “Oh, wow. Really?”

“Yeah… But, like, not for anything bad! I ain’t tryin’ get no one in trouble, I just… Just, can you imagine the type o’ music I can with this kind of material?! It’ll be off the chain! A secret supernatural war in the heart of LA! Shiet, it’ll be my best ever! Like, fuck Platinum, I bet I could reach Diamond! 10 million units! It… It’d be a bummer to have it seized, you know…”

Shizuka laughs, wearing a mischievous grin. “Hahaha~! I’ll consider it… but you gotta make me a promise: the MOMENT the album’s finished, I want a copy. I wanna be the first girl in America to hear it.”

C-King’s gold teeth flash. “Was gonna do that anyway. Anything for my number one fan.”

A shiny black car pulls up on the nearby path as the pair embrace. “Don’t forget about me when you get back home,” whispers Jerome.

Shizuka answers, “I’ll never forget you. I’ll never forget any of this.”

Two men in suits emerge from the car and approach them. They present cards bearing the stamp of the Speedwagon Foundation, at which Shizuka nods and follows them to their car. Leaning out of the door frame, she beams a gleaming smile at Jerome and waves eagerly. He waves right back, with as much vigor. They continue waving even as the car pulls away, Shizuka leaning out of the backseat window until she finally loses sight of him. 

Slipping back inside the vehicle, she places her hand over heart, feeling the outline of T’onga’s letter in her inner pocket with a small smile. Grinning deeper, she then touches the spot where the Stand disc is not.

In the cemetery, Jerome Adetokunbo, known to the world as C-King, abruptly notices the feeling of something round and flat in his front hoodie pouch. Reaching inside, he grins to discover the silver Stand disc in his hand. “When’d she do it?” he wonders. “When we was huggin’...? Damn…” 

Glancing around, he stows the disc back away and strolls toward the cemetery exit. Back to LA. His city. He hums under his breath, and there’s a spring in his step. Autumn wind brings blessed relief to the sun-baked town.

The Speedwagon agents’ car bypasses the constant traffic on the main highway, instead rolling smoothly down the streets of East LA. On its way, they pass by a dilapidated old building, graffiti covering the sign over the double doors that reads “Juarez Boxing and Fitness.”

Leaving East LA, they pass into Lynwood, whereupon they’re stopped by a collision on the freeway, and the delays it causes. Typical Los Angeles. From Lynwood, if you were to look south down Long Beach Blvd. and squint, you can see as far as East Compton.

In the end, it takes them 57 minutes to reach LAX, thanks to further delays at the toll road, up there on the tall suspended freeway writhing over the city streets like giant snakes. From up there, Venice Beach can be seen in the northwest, and Santa Monica beyond that. Head east, you soon find yourself in Beverly Hills. Continue east, and the Hollywood sign shows its face.

In these hills, a general blissful ignorance lives among the people, attempting to fill their days with as much excitement and purpose as possible. Every so often, they look downward to see the sweepings of the street, and every so often, they leave behind a token of charity. A single dollar for an old man. If only for the sake of soothing a guilty conscience. Yet a dollar is a dollar.

It takes another thirty minutes before Shizuka is finally on a plane. The captain mumbles some incoherent message, and the aircraft rumbles up the runway. Soon, it soars into the air and banks left. Shizuka gazes out of the window and sees the metropolis laid out before her. Her gaze lingers on the great, dirty city, until she smiles and settles into her seat.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #shizuka joestar #kilo staples #t'onga kim #moya pezzente #c-king #trish una #ch85

[demonmoonsupreme]

Sometimes I just have to remind myself that conventional femininity is okay. It’s okay to like an object that’s pink, to having a personal preference in keeping your hair long, maybe wear something that is sparkly or has a skirt. Being a “girly-girl” should not be an insult. Liking any of these things doesn’t make you less strong, less brilliant, or less human. I have to remind myself this every time I see a person — often young girls and women — in media basically framed as being almost villainous when they’re not an androgynous feminist. Remember how you treated Arya and Sansa Stark? Remember how much Sansa was hated because she liked dresses and pretty things and didn’t want to learn how to wield a sword, and Arya was cool and applauded because she had stripped herself of conventional femininity and wielded Needle as though it was an extension of her arm. Regardless of what the writers thought, the audience consensus that I saw basically summed up as “femininity is holding all the girls and femmes back, and if they could just put on some pants and increase their aggression they’ll be way more badass!” Which…feels so backwards in this day and age. Aren’t we trying to get it across that gender expression can say as much or little about you as you decide? Then why do we keep getting fed shit that is like “well, it’s been tough for them and nothing else has worked out so if they want to settle for being feminine than that’s alright i guess”. Fuck that. Fuck some list I read when I wanted to move towards being a bit more androgynous in my clothing choices that I should “add more masculine fabrics to my wardrobe”. What even the hell is ‘masculine’ fabric. It’s not a thing, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m so pissed off that my androgyny enquiry ended up reaffirming performative binary descriptors. Sorry for the rant, but the sexism is just killing me. You’ll never convince me to vilify someone who enjoys harmless traditionally feminine things! I will vilify whoever is trying to belittle their enjoyment!!

#personal

[mewtonian-physics]

I’ve been thinking a lot lately.

Solidus has many many many character flaws, but I feel like he wouldn’t like Jetstream Sam. That’s not a character flaw, at the very least.

“Stupid idiot, try having ideals” Solidus might say, “Try being an exon.”

Of course it doesn’t seem like Solidus had many ideals when he was working for the CIA either. It’s not just the child soldier thing, the George of the time just seemed like he was a tool of the Patriots. Maybe he’d be sympathetic, though I doubt it would be shown.

The only reason I think about this is because Sam kinda echoes Solidus, right? Is that a thing? They both cause a sort of rebirth for Raiden, they both taunt him a lot, they both wear enhancement suits and wield swords. I think Sam is a more direct echo of the George design, at least.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

^ that's pleased laughter i love the idea of solidus telling sam to be an exon it's too funnyyyyyyyyyyy

i mean i guess there are some similarities but i wouldn't read too far into it. a lot of those details are purely superficial (and the way sam is designed seems more to be to fit in with the rest of the antagonists) and honestly i think solidus took raiden a lot more seriously than sam did. he throws a couple jibes out, a couple insults, but largely he seems to have a weird sort of respect for raiden. (see the 'worthy opponent' bit for a notable example)

meanwhile, sam... look i don't know about everyone else but if i respected someone i wouldn't make creepy sexually suggestive comments towards them ('pretty boy' isn't all that suggestive but it sounds extremely condescending and don't even get me started on the other one). well i wouldn't do that even if i didn't respect someone but i doubly wouldn't do that if i did.

i think in their own way they are intended to be echoes, but not of each other. solidus is like 'hey what if solid snake but worse.' (to say nothing of the big boss parallels.) and sam... actually, fuck it, no, i don't care what other people think, i'm not going to say he's a fucked up echo of raiden because they have so little in common it's not even funny.

oops. got me rambling

also you're right not liking jetstream sam is the opposite of a character flaw

#ask

[c-is-for-circinate]

The story creates the story tells itself. That's it, that's what this is, it's the thing I always end up saying when Critical Role hits me right in the solar plexus, because stories are how we make sense of events after they've already happened. The story is not a thing in the moment it is created, it is a thing you can only know the shape of once it's over with, and then you look at it and you say, yes, of COURSE, it only ever could have been this from the first, couldn't it?

Seven miserable loners and outcasts and reckless illegitimate rebels meet in a tavern with no desire whatsoever for heroism. Their morals are quickfire and slapdash, casual and arbitrary, we'll help out these people, those people aren't our problem, we dislike those fucks over there. There is a war brewing and they want nothing to do with it. Fuck fame, fuck fortune, we'll keep to ourselves and play fast and loose with crime and take care of our own and maybe some lucky randoms we meet along the way. We'll fight and scrap and tussle amongst ourselves because none of us even entirely understand our own morals, let alone how to reconcile them with any of these other half-assed motherfuckers we apparently have to care about now.

They fuck up. One of their own dies.

They drown in rage and fury for just long enough, until they can stop gasping and growling for vengeance to take a breath. Then they run.

They run, because they do not care to stand and fight: not against evil or dragons or tyrant kings, not against their own grief. They flee the country. Nobody is chasing them, but they flee anyway, to avoid shackles, to avoid control, to avoid being set to anyone else's purpose, to avoid their own loss and their own sins. They run to the sea. (They find danger, and shackles, and control, and somebody else's purpose there again. The world is full of shackles and those who would wield them.)

They grieve. They avoid their grief. They sanctify their fallen comrade. They do not aim to be anything, this ragtag group of miserable loners and outcasts. The only thing they know themselves to be is each other's. They do not know themselves at all, but this grief, this loss--they know it, at least, know it together, an iron band binding them all heart to heart. It is the first truth they have to hold on to, the thing that lets them see each other as the only thing that matters, the only thing that's really real.

They face down a cult and win, because the other option is shackles or death. They face a demigod and flee, again, again, again. Always they flee.

They flee towards home and home is burned. They have seen loss and they have seen death and it finds them no matter how they run away, so maybe it's time to change direction. Maybe it's time to run towards. It's still running, still half-mindless directionality, it's still familiar. They are not heroes, they are not somebodies, they have never wanted to be somebody. This group has never wanted to be anybody, not as a group, not when they're whole. They're nobodies, trying to take care of themselves, take care of their own, to grow past their grief that they pretend they're gone from now, mostly, most days, when they can. (Pretend it's not the grief that made them each other's in the first place, like none of the fighting and scrapping and scrabbling along beside one another ever had in the first place.)

They bulldoze and trip and stumble and run towards instead of away, for once, just this once, the very first time they've run towards a thing since that last time, the only time, when they temporarily lost three of their own and then broke themselves trying to chase them (trying to chase vengeance). Towards is so much more dangerous than away. Run towards something hard enough, you might actually find it. You might have to become somebody when you get there, instead of just not-being somebody else.

They're somebody now. This rag-tag, broken, mismatched knot of nobodies, not even mercenaries because they're too skittish to even really look for paid work, they're somebodies now, or so Someone Important says. It fits like an ill-tailored coat that they've been forced into without ever making a choice. Without ever realizing, entirely, how much they never made a choice. The world said congrats, you're heroes now, and these killers and thieves went, well, fuck.

And then they tried to be heroes anyway. Not because it fit, not because they knew what to do, but because the mess of them, the seven of them, barely knew who they were to begin with. If the world was shouting HEROES! YOU'RE HEROES! BE HEROES! at them this very loudly--then don't they have to wear the coat that's being given to them? Don't they have to be, have to find some way to become, the heroes they've tripped and stumbled into appearing?

They don't know themselves. All they've done so far is run from themselves--from parents and children and their own crimes, from chains and challenges, limits and labels. They only barely know who they're not. They couldn't know who they are. How do they know they aren't heroes? The one thing they know, the only thing they have, the only thing they've ever run towards, is each other. The one thing they know for absolute sure and certain that defines and binds them is that steel band of grief, that first loss, the thing that broke and forged them to begin with.

So they look for answers in their grief, in what they've lost, because if it's the first true thing about them as a group, them as a whole, then it must be able to tell them who they have to be now. They sanctify their fallen, twist meaning and moral out of conversational confrontational casualness, make a mission statement out of leave every place better than you found it. They forget who he was, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. (They try to convince themselves that they don't have to be petty and venal and mortal and flawed.) They cling to what he meant.

And they fail. God, looking back on it all, with the shape of the story and the shape it's become, is it any wonder they failed? Petty and venal and moral and flawed, these rough-edged rabble-rousers, not even mercenaries because they don't even know how to take orders besides their own. Trying to be heroes. Trying to stop a war, because that's their job, right? It has to be. That's the shape of the coat they're trying to wear, that's the shape of leave every place better than you found it, that's the thing they crashed straight into while they were running, running, running the way they've always run, run, run. So they look for answers everywhere, because they have to have the answers to everything, and they scry and they spy and they play sides. They meet with queens. They turn to each other on the streets on the way out of the palace and ask in horror, "What did we just do?"

They run and they run and they trip and they fall and they unleash more evil than there was to start with. They lose one of their own, again. They sit in shattered shards, and what just happened? How could we have seen this coming? What did we just do?

They don't know themselves. They've been running from themselves, trying to run towards misty shapes they can't define in a too-big coat and too-small shoes, without any real practice in running towards to begin with. They don't know themselves, but they need to move forwards. They need to be whole again, the six, the seven (the eight, the nein). How can they do that if they don't know themselves?

And--finally, finally, they learn.

They learn. They throw a sword in a volcano and forge a sword anew. They rediscover their own mind, their own heart, covered in blood with each other's blood on their hands. They walk into their abusers' homes and then walk back out again alive and un-alone and unchained. They recover bodies. They recover families. They find themselves.

(And the selves they find are mortal and flawed, because they have always been mortal and flawed, because they are built to be mortal and flawed, because they are still the same misbegotten messes they have ever been. But they are stronger for having sought themselves out, for what they have found. They are the stronger for those threads of heroism they tried to, managed to keep.)

They stop a war, incidentally. In the end it's not even all that much due to them. They sit, nobodies on a ship in the middle of the ocean, and watch in silence. It chafes a little, not to be in the center of things, to be able to be the heroes it felt like the world told them they had to be. (It feels a little like relief.)

They find themselves. They find themselves, and they find another lost and broken man, miserable outcast loner, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. They only start to realize how they know themselves now when they see how much he doesn't.

(The peace treaty happens, happened, is/was/will be happening, because they tripped and trembled and tried their way into it, but in the end a thousand chess pieces moved to make it so, and it is signed on a boat where we do not even set foot. The culmination, the crowning glory, the true victory of that whole middle story, is a perfectly-dressed man in chains in the hold of a boat, admitting to his own sins. It is secret and it is individual, and it is the concrete proof above all proofs that our nobody unknowns are finally their own very-known selves. Because they were Essek, once--but know they know their own mirrors well enough to look at him and recognize that.)

They know so much, now, about who they are and who they are to become. They have looked at their pasts and, yes, flinched away, but they've seen, and they know, now, as much as they can handle. In the end, the one thing they don't know the true shape of, the one thing left to seek that must be sought, is of course (of course, of course) that very first thing they thought they knew to begin with. The one thing left to face is their grief. The one thing left to discover is what shaped it from the very start.

So they run, like they have always run. In amongst the snow it is the very distillation of running, towards and away, away and towards, chasing and fleeing and fleeing and chasing, are we in front or are they? It's every mistake they ever made all over again. It's every new lesson they've ever learned.

They don't ask any more, what's the right thing to do. They don't need to ask. They know, already, swift and sure and confident as they once stumbled and dodged. This is a thing that must be stopped. It is ours to stop it. Yes, it is a heavy, clumsy coat to wear, but it fits us out here in the snows where we're not trying to prove our heroism to anybody any more, for good or for evil. Yes, it weighs on our backs and tangles our legs, but it fits as well as any role we've ever tried to wear. It fits us more than it could ever fit anybody else. It's our role. It's our coat. It was forged of our choices, our pieces, our fights. It was forged of our grief.

Nobody else is here with us, to watch, to know. Just like when we were seven shiftless, aimless, worthless nobodies wandering through a circus tent on the way to nowhere (everywhere) else. There's us and the demon born from our grief, the demon who sprang up and died and is the only reason we any of us ever met. Just us, just the nine of us, three and three and three. The three who were dragged off in chains and gave us something to run towards, that very first time. The three who chased, and watched their companion fall, and faced their grief head on, and ran. And Lucien, and Caduceus, and Essek, beginning and middle and end: The man whose demise allowed us to come together, reborn from the loss that bound us. The man who found us and told us that grief is inevitable and passing, that we must continue with it, that we still had such a long way to go. The man who we found like a reflection in an aging mirror, reflecting our own progress back at us, showing us how far we've come and what we've learned how to be.

Of course it had to end this way. (There were so very many other ways it could have ended, once. Of course there were none at all.) Of course it would be nine and nine in the end. Of course it would be this final perfect marriage of heroism and anonymity, for this group that's finally figured out their selves, past and future and right-the-fuck-now, saviors and heroes and petty nobody fucks. Of course it would be this.

And of course, of course, of course it had to go like this. Of course, after everything, the first six of them would try to reverse that grief that forged and tied them. Of course they couldn't. Of course they couldn't, of course, of course--(and was it fate, that 1-in-20 chance, that 5% chance, that 1 on a die? was it fate like the dice are always fate in every game, rolling out poetry with every throw, because all the rolls that aren't quite poetic enough get forgotten?) Of course it was a 1, not some other number, not some sheepish failure of a 4. Of course the universe itself would speak to say no.

No, says the universe, that is not how this story goes--because the road is full of shattered shards, and our heroes only learned to be heroes by discovering how bloodily bad at it they were, by nearly causing the apocalypse before wrestling it back again. Of course the universe itself says that after all this time, after changing so far and discovering so much, this the inciting thing from the very beginning that bound this group in steel must not be changed. Of course, with all their pleas, the six people who knew him cannot bring him back.

Of course that's how the story would go. And of course there's Essek, the man who met this party so long after their throes of mourning that it had sunk into their bones and grown quiet before they ever knew him, who cannot accept this outcome. Of course it's Essek, who never met and has barely heard of this man, this grief--Essek who has not yet grown into the quiet acceptance of his own grief, who does not yet know his own mirror, who has only just barely begun to understand running to instead of from and still doesn't know the shape of what he might eventually choose to chase--who seethes in rage. Who cries about not fair.

Of course it's Caduceus who takes the inspiration of that anger, that grief, and changes it all. Of course it's Caduceus, who the group only even found out of their grief. (They tracked him down to beg to know if he could raise the dead in the first place. Do you remember? One, two, three, Caleb and Beau and Nott, finding him in his graveyard to beg him to help.) Of course it's Caduceus, created to serve and to heal and to make so, so very sure that everyone understood that death could be necessary and final. Of course it's Caduceus, who stood over Mollymauk's grave by the roadside and put a hand in the dirt and cast decompose, because what is dead should be allowed to stay that way until it grows into something else. Of course it is. Because Caduceus has learned his own shape by now, too--and it is still full of devotion, of dedication to the dead remaining dead, but it is steadfast and selfish sometimes too, forged in friendship, full enough of love to try, just this once.

Of course Caduceus gave the diamond but didn't try to perform the ritual, at first, at first. Of course he's spent so very long so very gently urging his friends to reconcile themselves to their loss, to letting their loved one sleep. Of course, in the end, in the very end, he weighed all his faith that once held so firm and final and without exceptions, with this grief before him, and found just this once, maybe, within it.

Of course when he tried, the man who lives to put things in the ground (to put Molly in the ground), even after the fates and the gods and the universe had spoken--when, just this once, against the will of the natural order and the universe and the power of destiny, he asked, just once, for the path of things to reverse--of course. Of course he was the voice that needed to speak for the story to listen.

Of course Molly would end the campaign. Of course this had to be the finale of it all. Of course this ritual--not this fight, not this mission, not even this apocalypse, but this ritual, this resurrection--must be the end of things. Of course it's the end of the story. You can't go any farther than this.

There can never be nine of us. It won't be ironic any more. But irony, after all, is just a way of running from sincerity, sometimes running away from sincerity so hard and fast you crash back into it from the other side. Like running from being a person, from being that person, from letting things matter, from mattering. Like running so far and fast from being found that eventually you have no choice but to find yourself. Irony's a shield against having to know the truth.

There's nine of them. It's not ironic. It's perfect, but it's not ironic. It's just the truth. They know who they are, now. Not who they were running away from being. Not who they tried to be for the sake of anyone else. Who they always are. Always were.

This story could have been a hundred thousand different things, when it started. Of course it was always fated to end with nine.

#whoops #definitely wrote this at 4 AM #apparently it still holds up in the light of day #CR spoilers #critical role #episode 140 #ok maybe I had a few feels #prose poet at 3 am