#matter of fact i wish he WAS a worm. instead.

[willowser]

Soggy touya just wants to lie on you like a cat. I just wanna hold his head

soggy touya 🥺 a skrunkly little thing 🥺 like a wadded up napkin 🥺 he would love for you to hold his head, friend 😌😌 so content 😌 so much peace 😌

#✿ ask willow #i just want to put him in my pocket #matter of fact i wish he WAS a worm. instead.

[zorosimpclub]

online friends? – Zoro SFW

characters: zoro roronoa x fem!reader

fluff | SFW

word count: 2.7k

She grumbled under her breath, fingers gliding across the console as she delved into the game with her online friends. It was an all-guy gang, which is why she chose to keep her mic on mute. Sure, she interacted with them, but it was through the safety net of the chat lobby. Using the mic felt like opening a can of worms—better to let them assume she was just another dude. After all, did it really matter? Online, she went by the name 'Solar' to keep a comfortable distance from revealing her real identity.

Zoro's voice blasted through the mic, cutting through the virtual battlefield. "Oi! Solar, what the hell was that?!"

She laughed to herself, Zoro was so easy to annoy. She just kept following his avatar around instead of actually playing the game, it was so fun to mess with him.

Reluctantly, she found herself acknowledging a truth she wasn't eager to admit – there was an undeniable allure and charm to Zoro's voice. It was deep, soothing and downright hypnotising – it sent a shiver down her spine. His words carried a certain charisma that managed to captivate even in the midst of a virtual battle. And if his display picture was any indication, his face was just as attractive as his voice.

With a silent sigh, she pondered the weirdness of being drawn to someone purely based on their virtual presence. How is that normal? She thought.

"Oh, that's great," he growled, but couldn't help the annoyed laugher as he tried to dodge her attempts at disrupting him. "Play the damn game asshole!”

Sanji piped up from his headset, “Shut up mosshead, you’re distracting the rest of us.”

"You shut up, shitty cook! And Solar man, play the damn game I said!" Zoro quickly got bored of being chased around by her avatar and instead started chasing her character.

She huffed and made her avatar run away from Zoro. It was times like these she wished she could just switch her mic on and partake in the banter with her gaming crew, but alas, they didn't know that she was a woman...yet.

Usopp's voice echoed through the mic, a mischievous tone evident in his words. "Oooo Zoro and Solar, sitting in a tree. Get a room guys, bleugh."

He couldn’t deny the fact that their countless midnight texts had gotten him to form somewhat of a crush on ‘Solar’. Solar just… got him. But he quickly shoved any thoughts of it advancing past online buddies because the thought of being in love with a person who he had never seen let alone heard seemed absurd to him.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the rest of the crew. She rolled her eyes at Usopp's teasing, her fingers still deftly navigating the game controls to keep her avatar one step ahead of Zoro's relentless pursuit.

Zoro, not one to back down, retorted with a gruff, "Shut it, Usopp! Stop making shit awkward, Solar is probably a 60 year old man."

Sanji spoke up quickly, "Yeah and he'd still be out of your league dumbass."

She chuckled under her breath, contemplating whether it was time to break her silence and join in on the banter.

"God, you guys are annoying." he groaned as he paused the game, turning to face his screen as if he would be able to see them through it. They were assholes, but she couldn't help but laugh at their comments, especially the one Sanji directed at Zoro.

He was so caught up in his frustration that he didn't notice her pausing the game. Maybe it was time to finally let them know who she was...

In a moment of bold spontaneity, she reached for the mic attached to her headset, her fingers hesitating for a split second before gripping it firmly. With a swift motion, she unmuted herself, the subtle click signalling the end of her silence.

"I can assure you that I'm not a 60 year old man." She spoke, feigning confidence. This was the first time the guys realised that she was in fact, a woman.

Zoro froze at her voice, she sounded so...soft-spoken. His heart jumped in his chest as he quickly put two and two together.

He didn't know what to say at first, his whole vocabulary had gone out the window as he stared at his screen.

"W-what did you say?" He finally let out, sounding like an idiot.

Luffy piped up, cutting Zoro’s sentence short, “Wait, is this why you didn’t want to talk on the mic?”

“Yes.”

“Huh…it doesn’t matter who you are to us, you kick ass on the daily, you didn’t have to worry about us reacting in a negative way…c’mon Solar, I thought you knew us by now.”

“My love, I bet you’re as beautiful as you sound – I am extremely blessed to be talking to you right now.”

“Oi shut up Sanji! Stop being creepy. This is probably why she didn’t want to tell you.” Usopp snapped but laughed into the mic.

A soft laughter escaped her lips, and with each gentle chuckle, the tension that had nestled in her nerves seemed to wash away quickly. She couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed about the whole situation, her cheeks growing flushed at the teasing from her friends. Thankfully, they had taken the news well and didn’t treat her any differently, well, besides Sanji. The other men laughed at him, his excessive flirting, making her let out another soft chuckle.

Zoro felt as though he could breathe again as her laughter filled his ears. The way that she laughed caused his chest to ache, a smile spreading across his face as he focused on her voice.

"Why the silence, Zoro?" she teased quietly.

Part of her still felt a little nervous, was he going to be awkward? Is this going to change their midnight texting ritual now that he knew she was a woman? Surely it shouldn't matter? But why was he being quiet? Her heart sunk slightly at the thought of losing his friendship.

Zoro's mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, he didn't know how to respond. She had just caught him off guard, his brain didn't really register what was happening at the moment.

He tried to find his voice but ended up stuttering instead. In all honesty, he felt like everything that he could've said at that moment would've been cheesy or just made him look like an idiot.

Before he could respond Luffy spoke up, "Alright crew, I'm logging off. I have work tomorrow." Which was followed by a chorus of 'same' from the rest of the group.

She frowned at the screen when they all left the lobby, was Zoro going to leave too?

"I...guess I'll log off too," he finally let out, his eyes drifting to the exit button. But a spark flared within his heart, making him pause his action.

Instead, he muted himself and waited. She raised her brow and bit her bottom lip, feeling nervous. Why didn’t he leave?

"Hey? You still here, Zoro?”

For a solid ten seconds, Zoro didn't respond, causing her to grow anxious in the silence. Surely he was just busy with his exit button? Then why hadn't he left yet?

"Yo." He finally let out, just as the silence turned awkward. Her head shot back at her screen, surprised to find him still there.

"So..." She started, not knowing what to say to him, not wanting to stop talking to him either.

And neither did he. Zoro's fingers hovered over the mouse, the cursor hovering over the close button. But he couldn't bring himself to press it.

He wanted to continue their conversation, to hear more of her voice.

"So, you still wanna talk?" He finally asked, hoping she would say yes.

"...yes." She squeaked awkwardly. Why on earth was she feeling so nervous? This is ridiculous she thought.

"Uh..." Zoro couldn't help but chuckle, she was obviously flustered. How he enjoyed hearing the sweet tone of her voice. She was so adorable.

"You sound nervous." He let out, making her cheeks grow hot.

"I do not!" She protested, "I'll have you know, I am perfectly okay.”

"Yeah? We both know you're lying." he teased, and she could almost hear the smirk on his voice.

"You sound nervous, don't deny it. Hey, it's alright to be flustered around this hunk of a man." he teased, making her blush darker.

"Ha! Hunk of a man? You're probably not the most attractive, but that's okay, we all still love you very much Zoro." She retorted, obviously she knew was most likely attractive.

He had to be, his profile picture was of a green haired man's side profile (which she had assumed was him).

He laughed loudly at her comeback, and her cheeky tone only caused his smile to widen. She took no bullshit from him, and he admired that about her.

“What makes you think that I’m not attractive?” He challenged. The man knew he was a walking thirst trap but he liked his ego stroked every once in a while.

"Just a hunch." She laughed into the headset and looked up at her bedroom ceiling.

"Oh yeah?" His tone rose, trying to challenge her.

"Why don't we bet on it? I show you what I look like, and if I'm not attractive then you leave the call. But if you do find me attractive, then you have to give in to one request of mine.”

"And what is your request exactly?" She asked quietly, the thought of seeing him making her feel giddy.

"You'll have to wait and find out. Besides, that's the fun part of a bet, isn't it?" He was being cheeky, knowing that her curiosity would have her agree.

"Ugh, fine!”

"Okay then, you ready to see me or what?" He teased, feeling a rush from the banter they were having.

"Hurry up, I can't wait to be proven right." She laughed, knowing very well she was wrong. She wanted to see him.

He chuckled and clicked the camera button on his computer, allowing his webcam to run as the screen switched to him. Her heart hammered in her chest when she focused her eyes on the screen in front of her. It took a few seconds before the image stabilised, revealing him, and his gorgeous face. He had short green hair that fell in all the right places and piercing eyes which went hand in hand with a lopsided smirk.

For a lack of better words, he was hot. She felt her cheeks heat up further in response, thanking the stars that he couldn't see her reaction.

“So, I take it you lost the bet?" He let out the question in a sarcastic tone, confident in his own attractiveness.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side slightly as he waited for a response from her, smirk still on his face. Her compliment would be nice, but just her being speechless would have to suffice.

She coughed to bring her thoughts to a halt, and clear her throat. "Fine, you win. What was the request?”

"I get to choose anything I want you to do with zero objection from you." he said smugly, the corner of his lips curling up into a sly grin.

"Uhuh. What is it?" She somehow already felt like she knew what was coming.

"I want you to be my date for a night." He teased, letting out a chuckle as he spoke.

Okay, she didn’t know that this was what was coming. He knew she'd roll her eyes at him for even suggesting. How was what he said even logical? They had just found out a more personal part of their lives, it would've been silly to be talking about dating.

"You don't even know how I look like." She deadpanned but her hands were shaking from the adrenaline.

Zoro chuckled, the sound coming through the headset sounding rather amused. "So, does that mean you won't even consider my request?" He playfully feigned hurt, placing his hand on his chest, flexing his arm muscles in the process (she couldn’t help but realise how built he was).

Besides, you and I both know there was more to this than just a friendship… the way we texted past midnight everyday? C’mon sweetheart.”

He was right, even before the face and voice reveal, there was definitely something brewing between them. She would tell him about her fears and dreams, him doing the same. Up until now it was just a faceless friendship, but even she couldn't deny how quickly it had progressed in the past hour or so.

"C’mon, let's get a little more intimate with this now that you know what I look like." he said smoothly, leaning forward a little and giving her a smirk.

"W-what?"

He threw his head back and laughed, he was so mesmerising – she needed to hear more of him, see more of him.

"Not like that, I meant, let me see how you look like." he said, grinning from ear to ear hoping she'd agree.

Zoro smirked at her stutter, it was obvious that she was trying not to blush. He had her right where he wanted her.

"Oh sweetheart, you know you want to. Don't hide from me now.” he continued teasingly, feeling the butterflies in his stomach begin to flutter at the playful bantering.

She held her breath and hovered her cursor over the show webcam button for a bit before biting the bullet to turn it on. She smiled and gave an awkward wave and bit down on her lip, not knowing how to interact with him. "Hey Zoro.”

Zoro paused upon her appearance on the screen, his smirk suddenly falling from his face. There she was- the woman that he had come to have feelings for even without the knowledge of each other’s appearance.

Her beauty was otherworldly, and her smile made her look absolutely irresistible.

"Fuck, you’re beautiful."

He let out the compliment without thinking, and then quickly paused. Why did he say that? It was just a compliment, but it sounded so...intimate.

Her eyes shot up at her camera and she blushed intensely, stuttering a soft thank you. He chuckled upon seeing her blush. How could someone be so cute? Her features are gorgeous but her personality is what made her even more attractive, she was cheeky but also shy. It was something that he couldn't resist.

"God, you're adorable when you blush." he teased, his tone teasing and playful, almost seductive.

"S-shut up." She looked away feeling embarrassed as a small smile graced her lips.

"I could keep teasing you like this all night, you know? It's a shame we're online and not in person, seeing you get all flustered like this makes me want to make you do things that make you blush more." he said in a teasing tone.

She gasped and hid her face in her hands, never did she expect her evening to go like this when she revealed her voice.

"Oh get your mind out the gutter woman, I meant I'll give you the tightest hug, which'll make you blush." He grinned, knowing that he definitely meant it in the way she imagined.

“So what do you say to that date? I remember you telling me you’re 30 mins away from me.”

She nodded, not knowingly trusting her voice to answer. She knew it would come out all stuttery and shaky.

"Then it's settled. We'll go out on Saturday evening, at the city centre station at 6PM sharp." He smirked, feeling satisfied with himself and how everything had turned out, her shyness aside.

With a new found confidence, she nodded again, this time with a smile. “It’s a date.”

–

part 2 >

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #zoro imagine #roronoa zoro #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #zoro fluff #zoro fanfic #zoro x y/n #zoro x yn #zoro x you

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 7: My House of Stone...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long i got such bad writers block Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

When Arthur didn’t show up after a few days, you tried to not let it get to you. He was a busy man, no doubt even more busy because of the job involving your husband. You ignored the fact that he proved that he would fight everything to come and see you, consequences be damned. It was almost out of character that he hadn’t come to see you, or had reached out to you in some way.

When a few more days passed with no sign of the outlaw, you found yourself going back over your last encounter, when he had taken you out on Bear. You don’t recall any hesitancy or doubt in his eyes when he was with you, or maybe you were too blind with your own desire to see it. That thought made you reel, panicking that you made him uncomfortable and scared him off. 

But you didn’t let that thought fester for too long. You spent your days doing menial tasks with no real passion, trying to just pass the time. It worked, mostly, but you were getting antsy. How you wished you had an easy way to leave the prison that had become the house. 

Even more days passed, each day becoming more and more anxiety ridden. Instead of worrying that you’d scared him off now, you were worried that he was dead, or in shackles, about to be hung up in the town square. Your nights were becoming restless, images of his dead body haunting you when you closed your eyes. You’d wake with bloodshot eyes, even more tired than you were when you went to bed. 

You eventually stopped counting the days, not wanting to know how long he’d been gone for. You tried to spend more and more time outside of the house, bringing blankets and books from Hans’ office to your garden, waiting to escape the confinement of the walls around you. It helped, for a bit, yet you still found your mind wandering, constantly worrying about Arthur. 

But no matter how hard you tried, you found that you couldn’t hate the man. Upset, sure, angry, definitely, but not hateful. No, your heart wouldn’t allow it. You were still in love with him, and the lack of contact from him was hurting you, both physically and mentally. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to find it in yourself to take care of your body. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He had wormed his way into your very being, and left a hole that couldn’t be fixed. You just hoped that he’d return soon and make you feel whole again. 

It was during this time that you decided to draft a letter to your family, hoping that it would alleviate the loneliness that was once removed by Arthur. You sat in Hans’ office, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the blank piece of paper in front of you, the task proving to be more difficult than you imagined. It had been two years since you’d last spoken to them, and you had no idea what to say. How much was too much? How honest was too honest?

You decided to keep it simple, and you began to write. It took a few tries, but you eventually produced a letter that you were satisfied with. 

My dear family, 

I have missed you all, incredibly so. Words don’t even begin to do it justice. I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I do so hope to hear back from you, and perhaps have the pleasure of seeing each other in the flesh soon. 

Your daughter,

You finished it with your name, but just your first name. Tucking it into an envelope, you addressed it with the address Arthur had provided you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Arthur’s handwriting, rereading the note he left you.

Making sure to leave the office as you found it, you made your way downstairs, setting the letter on the kitchen table, ready to grab for whenever you decided to go into town. You spent a few days at home after writing the letter, hoping that one night you’d hear the familiar hoofbeats of Bear, but were left disappointed each night. 

Eventually, though, you needed to leave, if just for a short bit of time. It had been roughly three weeks since you’d last left the house, and if you had to look at the same things again you were going to snap, leaving the house as a pile of ash. So, with a small purse with some cash, you took the letter and yourself and left. 

If it weren't for your current mindset, the walk to the main road would’ve been relaxing, enjoying the noises of animals and the cool breeze against your skin. But everything is annoying you now. The wind was causing your hair to blow in your face, and if you had to hear that birdsong one more time, you were going to lose it. Or maybe you’d already lost it. 

The sun blinded you as you left the shade of the thick forest, stepping out onto the main road. You always hated doing this, but you were desperate. Slowly, you began to walk towards Rhodes, keeping a close ear for any riders. 

It took a few minutes, but you eventually heard someone approaching from behind, and you perked up, putting on your friendliest face as you stopped and turned. It was a carriage, and you began to wave them down, but they ignored you, not even bothering to glance in your direction. Rude.

Still, you kept on, not letting one bad interaction deter you. A few more carriages and wagons passed, with similar responses. Everyone looked grim, you noticed, stone-faced and somber expressions. Now you were starting to feel dejected, and you debated just heading back to the house; you weren’t that far anyway. 

Before you could come to a decision, a single rider passed you, glancing at you even though you didn’t wave him down. Something like recognition flashed across his face, even though you’d never seen this man in your life. He had longer, black-brown hair that was tied into a small ponytail, with a mustache and goatee, and a bowler hat protecting his tanned skin. He had a blue denim jacket on, with a red handkerchief around his neck, and you noted that he was surprisingly well dressed for being an alone traveler on the road. 

“Mrs. Kerrigan?” He asked, almost in disbelief, like you were a creature from folklore, pulling his gray and white horse to a halt beside you. 

You braced yourself, ready to bolt as you stared at the man. “Yes?” You asked, suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize who you were, but they’d never acted like they knew you personally. You dove into the deep recess of your brain trying to remember who he was, but drawing a blank; he was a stranger to you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which was a tad bit off putting from a complete stranger. Still, you couldn't detect any malicious intent in his words.

Sighing, you answered truthfully. “I’m tryin’ to get to Rhodes. You… you don’t happen to be goin’ there, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, truly sounding regretful, but then his face turned thoughtful. 

“Ah. No worries then. Have a good day.” 

You tried to continue moving, but his smooth voice made you halt again. “But it’s close enough. I can only bring you to the outskirts, though.”

“You’d do that?” You smiled when he nodded. “I can pay, too. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Escuella. But you can call me Javier.” He extended a hand to you, helping you on to the back of his horse. You sat sidesaddle, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, your hands resting on his sides.

Javier. You remember Arthur telling you about someone with the same name, and although you highly doubted that this was the same Javier, you wished that he had a drawing of him. “Thank you, Javier.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kerrigan.” Javier gestured his horse forward, setting an easygoing pace; not too fast, not too slow. A small pang hit your heart as you remembered the last time you were on a horse, your body pressed up to Arthur’s, his rough voice in your ears, the playful glint in his eye. God, you missed him. 

“I’ll pay you when we get to town,” you repeated after a few minutes of riding, and you felt Javier chuckle. 

“I appreciate it, but I think Arthur would kill me.” Your blood ran cold, and your heart began to race just at the mention of him. So this was Javier, the one Arthur traveled with in the mountains to rescue John. It makes sense then, why he seemed to recognize you.

“Well, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” you commented. 

“He’s talked about me, then?”

“All good things,” you reassured, and he just shook his head, not believing you. You desperately wanted to ask him about Arthur, if he was alive or not, but you weren’t sure if any answer he gave you would hurt less. “Does… does he talk about me?”

Javier snorted. “Yes and no. He’ll talk about you, sometimes so much that we want to kill him, but then refuses to answer any of our questions. Some of us even doubted your existence,” he laughed, “but I’m glad to see that we’re wrong. You’ve made him real happy. I haven’t seen him this… optimistic in a long time.”

You were glad he was facing forward, so he couldn’t see the way those words broke you. Biting back tears, you kept your voice steady. “How is Arthur?”

“He’s fine?” He responded, very clearly confused as to why you didn’t know. “He’s been, well, ‘helping’ your husband.”

Oh. “So the names he got led to somethin’?” 

“Sure did. We were able to track down suppliers, and disrupt his business there. He’s yet to reach out for help, but Dutch doesn’t think it’ll be long now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You weren’t lying. “But he’s well?” You couldn’t help but ask about him again. 

“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days, but we’re pulling through.”

Only a couple of days. You refrained from asking what he’d gotten up to earlier, not wanting to appear desperate, even if you were. “I’m glad. And don’t make me regret saying this, but if anyone ever needs a place to lie low for a bit, point ‘em towards my house. At least when my husband isn’t there.” Even though you’d barely met any of the members, you couldn’t help but feel protective over the gang because of how deeply Arthur cared about them. If there was anything you could do to help them, you would.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Thank you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Arthur was right about you; you’re too kind for this world.”

You murmured a small thanks, and the two of you fell into an easy silence for the rest of the ride. When the familiar outskirts of Rhodes appeared, you felt Javier begin to grow nervous, his head moving back and forth, like he was on the lookout for something. “We can stop here,” you said once you reached a long abandoned house, the yellow paint chipping and peeling. 

Red dust kicked up when your feet hit the ground, and you quickly took out a few bills, handing them to Javier. “Again, I can’t take this,” he held up a hand, a small smile on his face.

“I ain’t payin’ you for the ride, though. I payin’ you to deliver a message to Arthur,” you countered, but he didn’t relent. Sighing, you tucked them into the saddlebags before facing him with your hands on your hips. “Tell him to come see me. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Do you have a ride back home?”

“I can arrange something’. Now go; you look uncomfortable just being here.”

He chuckled, not disagreeing with you. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“You too, Javier. Stay safe.”

He nodded, smiling kindly at you before turning, taking off back down the road you’d just been on. Turning toward the town, you began to make your way to the center of town, right to the post office in the railroad station.

It was eerily quiet, more like a ghost town than anything. There wasn’t a single soul lingering on the porches or the street, and the shutters of most of the buildings were shut, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day on a weekday. There weren’t even any animals out; it was just you and the dust. 

After a few tense minutes of walking, you eventually climbed the stairs of the railroad station, the creak of the old wood almost making you jump. It was just as empty on the inside as it was outside, the other person in the building, the person behind the counter, who smiled tensely as you entered. 

“Good afternoon, missus,” he exclaimed, the chip in his voice far too forced. “Say, can’t say I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”

“You’ve probably met my husband, Mr. Kerrigan,” you responded, making your way to the counter, pulling the letter from your bag. 

“Ah yes. Well, how can I help you, Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You slid the letter across to him. “I’d like to send this, please.”

“Not a problem at all. That’ll be five cents.”

Sliding him a nickel from your bag, you looked around as he stamped the letter, putting it in the appropriate mailbox. “Is there anythin’ else I can help you with?”

“Why is it so… dead?” You glanced back at the man, who had visibly paled at your question. 

“Interesting choice of words, ma’am. Let’s just say we had an… incident yesterday. Nothing befitting a proper lady like yourself.” He explained, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Ominous. Realizing you weren’t going to get far with him, you wished him a good day before leaving. You made your way to the general store; Mr. Banks would let you know. 

The bell chimed as you entered, and you called out for the older gentleman, and you heard the sound of crashing from the back room, clearly scaring the poor man. A disheveled Mr. Banks peeked around the corner, visibly relaxing when he saw it was just you. You opened your mouth to try and apologize, but he cut you off. “You didn't bring that ‘deputy’ with ya, did you?” He asked, growing tense again.

“Arthur? No, he’s not with me.”

“Good. I’ll kill him on sight if he even dares to step foot in Rhodes again. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Physically, no. “Mr. Banks, what in the world-”

“Him and his buddies shot up the town yesterday. Killed the good Leigh Gray, Lord bless his soul,” he shuddered, and you halted in your tracks, your somewhat amused smile at his ramblings falling. 

“What?”

He pointed to a newspaper on the counter, and you cautiously stepped toward it. Bloodthirsty Gang Kills Dozens was the headline, a few paragraphs of text following below it. Your head spun at the new information, blocking out the words of Mr. Banks. You couldn’t gauge what you were feeling; you weren’t disgusted, or revolted, even though you knew you should be. You weren’t surprised; you knew that Arthur had done things, unspeakable things, and would continue to do so. You weren’t angry at what he did, but you were angry at him for putting himself in harm’s way like that. 

“I’ll take the paper,” you cut Mr. Banks off, sliding him a few bills, and he slid the paper to you. You barely mumbled out a ‘good day’ before you left, nose deep in the paper as you headed back to the railroad station, sitting on the bench waiting for the carriage services, and you read as you waited. 

You read all about the way the gang played both families, something you had no idea was happening. You weren’t hurt that he didn’t tell you; you knew that some things had to remain secrets. But you didn’t care much about the detail, eyes scanning for any telling of death or injury to the Van Der Linde gang. You knew that Javier probably didn’t lie to you, but you still needed to be sure. 

Your heart dropped when you saw that there was indeed one confirmed killing of a member of the Van Der Linde gang, but you didn’t recognize the description they provided. The others, it seemed, were still at large, and unhurt. Knowing how deeply Arthur cared about each member of the gang, you knew that this death was probably weighing heavily on him. If only he would come and see you, just so you could help him.

The sound of a carriage approaching had you standing, tucking the paper under your arm. Getting in, you directed the driver to your house, and you quickie got lulled into the rocking rhythm of the vehicle. You ignored the paper under your arm, even though it felt like a million pounds.

The ride felt like forever, but eventually you pulled into the familiar forested area of Ringneck Creek. The driver helped you out, and after you paid him you headed inside, feeling like you were just going through the motions. Despite everything you’d learned, there was one thing that really bothered you. The shootout had only been yesterday; what had stopped him from seeing you during the previous three weeks?

Even though it wasn’t late, you found yourself getting ready for bed anyway, keeping the paper on the table downstairs and grabbing a book from Hans' office before curling beneath the sheets. Your eyes skimmed the words, not processing them, your brain too distracted by today’s events.

You weren’t quite sure how you “read” for, but you must’ve fallen asleep at some point. A loud noise, like a door being slammed, had you bolting upright, pulled out of your uneasy slumber, the book luckily not hitting the ground. When you didn’t hear anything for a few moments, you thought you had just imagined it, and you went to try and go back to bed. 

That was until you heard the sound of heavy footfalls. Shit. Tearing off the covers, you padded lightly across the wooden floor, wishing that Hans wasn’t so opposed to keeping guns in the house. You had nothing to defend yourself with, so kept to the shadows as you left the room. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you flinched when you saw the shadow of a man making its way toward the stairs. You began to back away, back into the safety of your room, until you recognized the familiar silhouette of the man. Don’t tell me…

Cautiously, you made your way downstairs, barely making a noise. You had to stifle a gasp once you reached the bottom, your suspicions confirmed when you saw Arthur standing in your dining room, back to you, glancing over the newspaper you’d set on the table. His hair was longer, his clothing unkempt, but it was still the same man you had fallen for.

Too many emotions ran through you, from anger to longing to desire to sadness. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face, and so you just stood at the bottom of the stairs, shocked. 

Eventually, Arthur turned, the only sign of him being startled was his eyes widening. Those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted your thoughts, that you longed to see again. You let out a small gasp then, audible only to you. It was really hard to remain still, every fiber of your being craving to be in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Neither of you knew what to say, just staring at each other. Even in the low light, you could see that Arthur looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his shoulders sagging. Being on the run would do that to a man. “So Javier wasn’t kiddin’. You’re alive.” You didn’t care that your voice was scathing. 

Javier must’ve said something to him, because Arthur didn’t seem surprised that you mentioned the other man. If you ever met him again, you’d have to thank him for sticking to his word about delivering a message. “I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ll leave.” Oh, how you missed his rugged voice. 

Arthur turned to head back out the front door. “Stay. Please.” You called out, making your voice softer, stopping him in his tracks. Don’t leave me again. 

He took a deep breath before turning back around, somethin like guilt on his features. “It’s been three weeks, Arthur.” You sighed out.

“I know, darlin’.” You nearly broke then, his name for you crumbling your resolve. Yet you held, fingers gripping the railing with a death grip. “There was an… incident-”

“The shootout in town,” you cut him off. “Don’t sugarcoat things. I know what you get up to. I know the things you’ve done.”

Arthur didn’t bother to try to disagree, and you were thankful for that. “After the shootout in Rhodes, I couldn’t risk comin’ over to see ya’.”

“I understand, but that was only a few days ago. Arthur, it's been three weeks.” You didn’t bother to hide the pain in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Then where’ve you been?” He didn’t respond, and you laughed bitterly. “I thought you were dead, Arthur. Or you were about to be strung up in the gallows. Or you… I was worried sick, and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead was because Javier told me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want an explanation.” You let go of the railing. “Why?” Arthur hung his head, and you began to step towards him. 

“You deserve somethin’ better, darlin’.”

“And you thought the best thing for me was to leave me alone and heartbroken. And who is this ‘someone better’ I deserve? Hans? No, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t much better! You said it yourself, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve killed people, so many I’ve lost track. Hell, I was the one who killed Sheriff Gray. My whole life I’ve tricked and duped and betrayed people; I ain’t a good man’. You’re too sweet, too kind. You deserve somethin’ better than that, than me.”

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve hurt people, Arthur? You didn’t think when you said you were an outlaw that I wouldn’t, I don’t know, realize you’ve done some unlawful things? I know what kind of man you are, and who you claim to be, yet when I think of you I think of a man that is also good, generous, sweet.” You continued to move towards him, even as he shook his head. 

“A man that would come check up on a sad woman in the woods just ‘cause she asked, that would find her family’s address so she could write to them.” You were close enough to him that you could reach out and touch him.

“A man that’s made my miserable existence feel worthwhile, that has become the best goddamn part of my life.” His hands were shaking, you found when you took one of them in both of yours. Those familiar calloused fingers were oh so comforting, and you brought them close to your heart.

You took a deep breath. “A man that I’ve completely fallen in love with.”

His hands stopped shaking, or maybe yours were. You couldn’t tell. 

Arthur was speechless, but you could tell that he didn’t oppose your confession, because he pulled you closer. His free hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You shouldn’t…”

“Too late now, Arthur.” You breathed out. “I… I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He repeated again with more edge, but you could see how conflicted he was. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from it.”

“How can you be so certain?” 

“Because every damn good thing in my life gets ruined. Every person I lo- care ‘bout, I make their lives worse, and they regret ever openin’ their hearts to me. Did ya know I almost married a girl, then I ruined that. I- I had a kid,” his voice grew thick with emotion, “and he’s no longer with us. All because of me, and the life I lead. All because wherever I go, someone’ll be huntin’ down the people I care about, no matter how innocent they are. I couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me.”

Oh. You were speechless now, and your heart ached for the man in front of you. “Arthur… I can’t guarantee that somethin’ won’t happen to me, but do you really wanna live your life in fear, pushing away those who care about you?”

“I can’t lose you, darlin’. I can’t.” 

“But you almost did, pushin’ me away like that. What then?”

“I…” he took a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck gently. “I don’t know.”

“So don’t push me away. Yes, it’s terrifying, caring about someone like this. You don’t think I worry ‘bout you every time you’re not here? That I don’t worry that we’ll be found out, and this whole thing will come burning down around us? But isn’t it worth it? ”

He sighed, before resting his head against yours, his hat sliding back a bit. “It is.”

“Then mean it. To yourself. To me.” His lips were so close now, and you wanted nothing more than to close the space between them. You let go of his hand, choosing to rest your hands on his chest instead. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingers, just as fast as yours was. “I love you, Arthur, and there isn’t a damn thing you can say that’ll change that.”

Arthur exhaled shakily, and even in the dim light you could see a small smile on his lips. “And I’m grateful for your stubbornness.” You chuckled lightly at his words. “I’ve been a fool-”

“None of that. You ain’t a fool, Arthur.”

“Maybe not. But I’m a fool for you.” You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, knees growing weak at the now grin on his face. That dazzling, beautiful grin. But his expression sobered, and you temporarily feared the worst. “You should know that I do feel the same, darlin’. I really do. It’s just, I can’t…”

“You can’t say it back,” you refrained from sounding too crestfallen. You could be content with the fact that he agreed he felt the same. For now. He shook his head, looking ashamed, and you forced his gaze back up to yours when he tried to look away. “Then show me. Show me that you love me.”

“I could spend every last minute of my life showin’ you, and it still wouldn’t be enough time,” he chuckled, his thumb brushing just below your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, and something darkened in them. “But I can certainly try.”

He leaned in, finally closing the distance, and you felt like you could cry with relief. His lips felt even better than you remembered, more desperate than you’d ever felt them. You dropped his hand, arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss you, his hat falling to the ground as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, the hand still holding your face brushing your cheek. “Darlin’, you’re cryin’,” he murmured, his brow creasing with concern. 

“Good tears,” you laughed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I just missed you, so much.”

Another flash of guilt appeared on his face. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He regarded you for a few moments, and you nearly pulled him back down yourself, desperate to feel his lips again. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long, because he was kissing you again, weeks of pent up longing, fear, and love being poured into it. It made you dizzy, and your fingers tangled further into his hair, eliciting a groan from the man. 

Arthur’s free hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he kissed you. They gripped even harder when you ran your tongue against his lips, not expecting you to take control of the kiss. He willingly let his lips part, letting you explore him with ease. 

You hadn’t even realized Arthur had moved until you felt your back hit a wall, the back of your head cradled by his hand. It made you groan, breaking away from the kiss, and Arthur wasted no time trialing his lips down your neck. Your head rolled back, letting out pleased sighs and light moans as he littered kisses across your neck, his facial hair ticking the sensitive skin.

“Arthur,” you groaned, hands still in his hair, and you felt him hum in response. 

“My beautiful girl,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything, and you were grateful for the stability the wall provided. The hand on your waist moved down, securing under your thigh and lifting it so that your leg wrapped around him. You inadvertently began to rock your hips, eliciting another delicious groan from Arthur.

“God, Arthur, I need you.” You didn’t care if you were pleading. You’d been plenty patient; you were allowed to be greedy. 

“I’m takin’ my time with ya. We’ve got all night.”

Another groan tore from your throat. All night. “You promise?” You asked, echoing his previous words. If he was promising all night, then you could be patient for a little while longer.

You felt him grin against your skin, nipping lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Promise.”

Author's Note: surprise javier appearance bam!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

y’all. We need to have a talk about the union leaders’ keyblades

okay, so the first thing you have to know is that khx and khux’s keyblades are different. khux introduced new keyblades that weren’t included in khx originally, but! khux also made some changes to the keyblades that were originally in khx. Namely, it removed some of the in-between forms of each keyblade

(credit to this image via @appre-chi-ation)

As seen above, khx’s Starlight originally had these 5 forms in khx. The base form, plus its 4 upgrade forms.

But khux’s Starlight only has these forms, essentially having its upgrade line cut in half, and the addition of a new final form (sorta lol, it just glows)

This is the same for all the khx-khux keyblades. Starlight, Treasure Trove, Lady Luck, Three Wishes, Olympia, Divine Rose, and Moogle O’Glory all have their upgrade lines essentially compressed in khux.

Now, why does this matter? Ephemera, Skuld and Strelitzia wield this Starlight form in particular:

This is Starlight upgrade 3 / 4th form overall. It only exists in khx.

And Lauriam wields this:

Divine Rose upgrade 3 / 4th form overall. It also only exists in khx.

Since we know that the chi saga (and kh in general but chi specifically) is really great at tying gameplay mechanics and lore together, I think I actually understand the potential lore significance of this now.

These four were wielders before the war and were chosen to be union leaders. Putting Strelitzia aside for obvious reasons, Ephemera, Skuld and Lauriam escape to the new world wielding a form of their respective keyblades that actually doesn’t exist there. Now we don’t actually know why these forms don’t exist in this world from a narrative standpoint, but it might have to do with everyone’s memories being overwritten except theirs, or maybe it’s a glitch in the data that wasn’t taken into consideration (or maybe it was placed there on purpose? 👀 but this is just speculation).

Whatever the reason is, the fact that they wield non-existent keyblade forms from a forgotten reality could potentially explain why their keyblades never get upgraded past that, despite them being union leaders. You’d think that they would upgrade to the strongest form, right? Maybe going to the new world/reality stunted their keyblades’ evolution, and they’re just stuck with what they came with because they weren’t able to finish maxing out their keyblades before the war. (This is why you always do your materials quests, kids!)

Now, the reason they don’t just choose to wield a different, stronger keyblade instead is a whole other thing. Amongst the “new” keyblades brought into khux (Stroke of Midnight, Sleeping Lion, Counterpoint, Fenrir, Darkgnaw, Missing Ache, Fairy Stars, and Diamond Dust [Bad Guy Breaker is a special case]), they certainly have a lot to choose from.

My guess is either A. they simply can’t, as in, they’re physically unable to switch their particular keyblades in for a different one because of the circumstances of data Daybreak Town or because of something Ava did, or B. they chose not to, in order to just have a memento of the pre-war world, before their life changed drastically. I’m leaning towards the latter, since Blaine gives Ephemera Master’s Defender while they’re in data Daybreak Town and it wouldn’t make sense if there was even a possibility that Ephemera wouldn’t be able to use it there. This opens up a whole conversation about keyblade lore and how keyblades themselves change overtime and in different circumstances, along with how data worlds might affect keyblades. But that’s a whole other can of worms.

Anyways, here’s the most interesting part about all this…

Ven.

He wields Missing Ache upgrade 2 / 3rd form overall.

Already right from the get-go, you can see that this is different from the “formula” the other leaders are following (except Blaine, who’s the exception here, as he is to many things). Unlike the other leaders, Ven wields a keyblade that wasn’t in khx, but is included in khux as a “new” keyblade. He’s wielding a keyblade that was only put into use in the new world where everyone had their memories wiped in some capacity, including him. His keyblade is an anomaly. It may have very well been a big hint about him being an anomaly amongst the other union leaders!

tl;dr the union leaders were nerfed, the hints about Ven being a fake leader were there all along, and we need more keyblade lore. Thanks for coming to my ted talk ✌️

(an additional P.S.: Eph and Skuld were introduced in khx, so it’s possible that the main reason they were given their particular Starlight form was so they could be relative to Player’s hypothetical strength level at the time they’re introduced. But I still like to believe that there’s this additional significance to it)

#khux #khx #my posts #maybe someone else has already connected these dots but still. holy shit?? #khux really is like onions…it has layers…… #also for the record: I think strelitzia should’ve been wielding the same divine rose #as lauriam #dandy kids #long post

[mihai-florescu]

Putting a message i sent earlier under a read more, it has some thoughts ive expressed before tho. ES, of course

My thoughts as an EichiP... i view ! and !! as different stories in the way they're approached tbh, what i fell in love with enstars for was the character driven storytelling of one event seen through different perspectives, where you see the antagonist in one perspective become a protagonist in another story and can empathize with the entire cast like this. I fell in love with eichi's story of second chances, getting what you want and regretting your actions in the process, redemption, desperation, overcoming fate and asserting one's self into the story, saving a school in a dying industry that saved your life by giving you a dream; i consider it an arc fulfilling to the reader at the end of ! era. But we still had to continue... and it's not like we didnt get inklings of eichi's dreams of idol utopia, the idol soldier idea goes back to main story 1, but !! loses the charm of the original series through expanding the worldbuilding so much and shifting to a plot driven story that opens 10 cans of worms instead of offering resolutions. There's not really room to breathe if the stakes just keep getting higher and higher...

As for the colonisation plotline, it's been here since the beginning of ES2. The SS arc makes it obvious, but i remember even before, the talks about ES taking over from local businesses, trying to be seen as the standard, it was always the direction ensemble square as an institution would take. But the "antagonist in one story, protagonist in another" approach doesnt work anymore with such subjects. The guys responsible for this are your coworkers you share dorms with. I read the stories but cant empathize anymore, so i've been feeling disconnected from eichi for a while. I see enstars with eichi at its core but i didnt care for his center event, i read it, didnt like the ending, and overall felt off. Eichi becoming the villain of ! to attone for the war kind of loses significance if a year later he is a cartoon villain idol colonialist you can't even sympathize with anymore because of the magnitude of events. However i do think !! has done good things for some characters pushing them further or developing them in a way ! didnt. But for others...

I also have my issues with sci fi elements becoming the norm, even taken metaphorically or as hyperboles, when one of the central themes i love about enstars is humanity. Then again, i am a war era fan that relied on manipulating human desires and perceptions, and the fact that there were no monsters or gods, just humans framed as such, playing on people's fears and beliefs, it's a bit jarring to me to have them introduce AIs forming from escaped comatose brains (im minimizing the switch climax rn, i didnt even hate it as a whole, just this resolution im unhappy with)

It also feels like we've lost some of the meta aspects of the writing i liked, a certain awareness of being characters in a story and there being an audience. But im still struggling to word my thoughts on this matter. I felt it present in main story 2, even if it annoyed me at parts in its obviousness ("good thing we're not protagonists, no one would want to read about us" youre right aira you are not interesting to me. And yet i'll read your story to try and empathize nevertheless. I have other thoughts on aira too, perhaps for another time). I wish we explored a bit more what it means to no longer be the central protagonist, from trickstar's perspective...and brought back the successors topic. But i havent read every ts story yet so i'd be foolish to complain before really making sure i've checked everything. To me ! ended satisfyingly with room left for elaborations and imagination, but i dont feel like !!'s ending is really ending anything at all. Not necessarily bad since it's not like the game is shutting down, but overwhelming worldbuilding wise while underwhelming character wise...

Let's see... im not sure how to end this. Just a bit of a stream of consciousness as a ! fan who still loves enstars despite my critiques. Mainly, well, no one's gonna take away the stories that already exist that i do love and impacted my life greatly. And i do think !! had some really good things too it brought, or at least stories i hold dear too. Change is scary and i don't think it's always for the best, but it's also fun to see where it goes next...

#enstars

[intimidating-fettuccine]

If it's okay I'd like to request some angst (with a happy ending) with teenage slender and ghost s/o perhaps with the line "I love you, but you're not mine" if that's way to specific then maybe just some regular angst, thank you and have a wonderful time zone Intimiccini

-Gummy Worm Anon

I hope you enjoy~! And I hope you also have a wonderful time zone! :)

You loved him. you loved him so, so much, and he loved you too, more than he ever thought it possible to love someone, but sometimes... Sometimes you just felt so out of place. Slender had a place to belong, a large (mostly) loving family, a path already set out for him in life, a place of high standing in the Underworld since the day he was born, but you... All you had was death. You weren't born into the Underworld like him, no, you'd just died and ended up here. You couldn't compete with the other people in his life constantly trying to get his attention. At least, that's what you told yourself.

Slender had started noticing changes in you. The more you spent time with his family, the more you spent time around the other upper-class teens and adults he was made to be around, the more you began to withdraw from him. It started off small, with you going home a little earlier, but it began to escalate to you outright refusing to go to his house at all, and then you not even wanting to spend time with him, always saying you had other things to do. Of course, this was incredibly upsetting to Slender, and he could tell it was upsetting you as well, so eventually, he cornered you and asked what was going on. If you even still loved him and wanted to be with him. That's when you'd said it. "I love you, but you're not mine." You'd said it so tearfully, in so much pain. You'd gone on to say that he doesn't belong to you, he belongs to his family, and those other higher-up demons, that he was never meant to be with someone like you in the first place, someone so low down on the hierarchy of the Underworld, a nobody, someone that has no place or purpose. "You do have a place. It's right next to me." Slender responds to you after a few moments of silence. 

You can hear the pain in his voice as well, and when you look up at him, he's shaking before you in pain and sadness. Slender scolds you like a child, telling you that you should have just come to him with this in the first place instead of making the two of you suffer for the last few months. He tells you that he doesn't even like being such a high-ranking eldritch being, and that he wishes he could just be like you, someone that has freedom and can make their own choices. He tells you that he believes he does belong to you, that he is yours. Since meeting you his life has changed in such a positive direction, and he can't bear the thought of having to live without you. By that point, you're both hugging and crying, and Slender offers to take you to your favorite ice cream place, and you agree. You both sit side by side, sniffling as you eat your sweet treats, his arm wrapped around you. He tells you to never do that again, to just come to him and let him soothe your worries, and you quietly agree. Slender swears to himself that he'll never let you feel like that again, that he'll never let you feel like you don't belong with him, that you're not good enough. You're the only person that Slender has ever felt like he belongs with, after all, and he's not going to let anxiety get to you and let you run away from him. He loves you too much for that, and he knows you love him too much for that too. Status has never mattered to him, and he'll make sure you remember that fact. Besides... If he marries you, like he'd like to in the future, you'd both be of equal status anyway. Not that either of you have had that talk yet, but someday... Someday you will.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #slenderman headcanon #slenderman headcanons #slenderman x reader

[xjulixred45x]

WISH: the power of Wishes (RE-IMAGINATION)

okay, I know that many people have already done this, but I want to make my own version of this and above all do my bit for Magnífico Stands (the only salvageable character in the entire movie) and instead of just using the original concepts of the work (which is great) i wanted to mix both the concepts that i liked from the final work and the discarded concepts. we'll see.

First of all, Magnifico would not be the villain, nor would Queen Amaya. Is it simply too much to ask for a king/queen who truly cares about their people in a sincere way and does not want to harm them? although there would be a fixed villain. But I'll leave it for later. Asha and her family remain the same, except that Asha never really considered the stories her father told her about the stars as something real and thought it was another way of referring to the Magnificent King's wishes. which encouraged more fanaticism for him. I think Asha would be more studious, not exactly a book eater, but someone who has many hyper fixations and wants to know absolutely everything about those topics that she is passionate about. which causes some distance between her and boys her age. I mean, his clumsiness is a little more justified (maybe he's even neuro divergent? but I'll leave it ambiguous). Thanks to this and her somewhat more theatrical personality (which we see at the beginning of the movie), Asha participates in various activities to help the inhabitants of Rosas. In this way we would be introduced to the utopian way of life of the kingdom and perhaps even to Asha's few friends. I think that of his group of friends the only relevant ones would be Daliah and MAYBE Simon. Daliah would have a disability that makes her use a crutch (as in one of the old concepts) and she is like a book worm, she and Asha probably met because they had many hyperfixations in common. Simon dreams of being a knight of the kingdom, so he and Asha bond by having similar goals and helping each other achieve them. (Asha and Daliah even help Simón train and encourage him 😭Simon helps Asha get jobs). In general they are a fairly united group. then the main plot of the movie begins, Asha wanting to be Magnífico's apprentice, BUT not because of her Grandpa! But she genuinely wants to use magic to make her family's life easier by being just her and her mother (they're not going to put a 90-year-old man to work) and take better care of them. message about family in your face. The entire At All Costs sequence occurs but with a different context, not only does Magnífico open up to Asha but she also opens up and tells the above, that since her father died she feels that she has to do something to improve the life of her family, take care of them as best you can. generating not only empathy on our part but also on Magnifico. thus becoming his official apprentice. (no, here there is no problem with returning the wishes or anything else, because probably having removed the filling it could be explained in more detail why several dangerous wishes should not be fulfilled.

As an extra fact: I like to think that desires can also disappear on their own when they are fulfilled without the need for Magnifico, simply to give it a little more weight)

Asha and her acquaintances are obviously very happy, and proceed to have certain interactions with Queen Amaya, perhaps just giving more lore about her and Magnifico (God knows we needed it) and even about the founding of Rosas itself and the Magic sistem.

I like to thing wish Sistem of Magic is a mix between The Owl House and Harry Potter.

This would be where the villain would be mentioned for the first time (mention, not appearance), who would be the one who destroyed the Old Village of Magnífico. For now I'll just call him Morgan (like, Morgan Le fay). and then there is the matter of the star. It seems to me that both Magnifico and Asha would be interested in this type of magic to prove ancient myths about stars, so they spend several weeks working on ways to "bring" a star to Magnifico's laboratory. First they study in depth Astronomy, alchemy, traditional magic and then they go to the attempts. **funny sequence of all the failed attempts to lower the star from the sky** I think there would come a time where Asha would even stay the night in the castle to be able to investigate Magnífico's books because her attempts failed and they are both super sleepless. There may even be a cute moment where Asha falls asleep in the castle so Amaya and Magnifico give her a blanket and pillow to make her comfortable (these two are so cute, I can't----) and Magnifico, searching for more books, ends up coming across the forbidden book. the book he took from his old town... that belonged to Morgan. Now, I imagined a whole Dr Jekyll and Ms Hyde-like sequence with this(this was so long i'm sorry) Magnífico tempted to use the book, but as soon as he remembers everything that that same book provoked, what that book TOOK FROM him, it goes away, but he starts to reflect, if it is really good to keep that reminder, that constant nightmare, if he does well. and then (perhaps due to lack of sleep or a materialization of the book) Morgan appears. mocking him, laughing at him, like do you really think you will ever be free from what HE did? from all the damage he caused? He will NEVER be free of it. and Magnifico obviously denies this! Morgan should be dead now, this is just a bad dream. but "Morgan" lets him know that as long as he lives he will always be "there." Magnifico only sees it as all the damage he caused, he lets him know, that when he can completely get rid of his book, there will be no trace of it. That he'll be forgotten. Morgan makes it clear that he will never leave him, THAT HE WILL STAY no matter what he says while he struggles with Magnifico for the book.

AND WHEN MAGNIFICO HAS THE BOOK IN HIS HANDS HE SEE IN HIS REFLECTION THAT HE HAS GREEN EYES WHILE MORGAN SAYS THAT HE WILL BLOOM LONG AFTER HE IS GONE IF HE DECIDES TO FOLLOW HIS PATH (use dangerous magic, the star)... Magnificent knows Morgan well, he needs him to survive, he is a PARASITE, he may not be able to control him, but he will definitely rejoice when he knows that Morgan took his last breath. TRAUMA TIME, "Morgan" showing Magnífico a hallucination of how he destroys 1- the kingdom of roses 2- its inhabitants and 3- AMAYA. f for Magnifico. Magnificent, he's had enough of this, he just curses Morgan one last time, sending him to hell and throwing his book into the fire, which rises above his castle with a green flame... MEANWHILE Asha, still half asleep, settles in as she thinks about her failure with the star again, as she looks out the window at the northern stars, and JUST out of habit, she wishes she wished she could have one of those, so she could help people. and ZASSS! Before she realizes it, a great light appears in the room that almost blinds her and when she regains her composure she is a small creature! What a magic dust! A funny moment that my sister came up with for the inclusion of Star Boy is that Asha gave the star a simple nickname "little guy" and the star decided to change shape back into His kind of human boy😅 In any case, Magnífico hears the confusion and, with his adrenaline high, runs to see Asha and discovers a fucking star boy in his palace. He's shocked, obviously, but now he's much more cautious than before (lack of sleep + ptsd). I think it would take a moment with Amaya to calm down a little, remind him that he is not Morgan and that he would never use magic to hurt its habitants, and to get some sleep (another Amaya moment x Magnifico YEY!) Anyway, Asha, Amaya and Magnifico trying to teach Star boy the basics of human culture while figuring out how exactly it works without being too invasive.

But Star Boy dosen't make it easy, being kind of a knew-it-all(a little arrogant?), messing up some of the tries of Magnífico and Asha of get test material. Things like that.

I don't Even think he knows how frágile humans are at the Start, so it would take a little...incident to make him realize that. But definitely flying dust would be something fun 😝 I think Asha would have several moments with Star Boy showing her the kingdom of Rosas, just trying to use his magic for good and teach him human things.

But at the same time is hard with Someone who's never been with humans before, so when he tries to do something that Asha thinks is "good for the people" Star Boy misunderstand and end up doing something wrong, like grouwing too much the tries to the point the people can't reach them to get fruit, turn the water in ice for fun, etc. Her friends join in! but at the same time I think that some (especially Dalilah) would feel half done by having a new new person in the group (who is literally from another world).

Daliah Even Starts ti believe that Star Boy could be kind of dangerous, specially if she ever sees him mad, he literally is making a disaster without intention, what would happen if he DOES have intention?

But Asha tries to ressur her that Star Boy is not malicous, but just naive, and unexpefienced, and he's trying to learn! Trying to be better.

It would be Even better if Someone endup hurt or Asha almost gets hurt so Star Boy Star to realize, well, MORTALITY, and tries to make up what he did wrong And control better His own Magic. With the proper support ofc. which causes Daliah to distance herself a little while Asha and Star boy have their well-deserved romance (at all cost reprise? at all cost reprise) and Simon continues training hard to be a knight.

Daliah feels insecure around Star Boy, even if he is more careful and empathetic now, she definitely got the impression that his magic is dangerous, but does she feel guilty for distrusting Asha like that, for feeling jealous? so he is going to reflect alone.. That's when he runs into Morgan, probably while on the outskirts of Rosas. and in a certain way when they meet they have some worrying interactions. Morgan gets Daliah to tell him that she feels insecure about her friendship with someone and the whole thing, that she feels like someone is dangerous but they don't believe her, etc. Morgan, with a master's degree in Manipulation, tells her something personal to gain her trust, how he used to be seen as similar to where he came from, how he took refuge and distanced himself from everyone because he didn't fit in, how he had to find his own way of standing out, like her. It sounds like a very Evil Like me moment to me. I mean, Morgan manipulating Dalilah in an emotional moment by being passive aggressive and at the same time being "empathetic." You may even not only try to convince him to see his friends differently, but also his desires. Doesn't that seem archaic to you? Don't you think that having someone who fulfills your desires is something horribly selfish? Like? Are people going to learn if there is no pain involved? (a philosophy...valid, but taken to the extreme) Thanks to this, Daliah begins to hang out with her friends less, but with Star Boy around, they don't realize it at first. Star Boy and Asha do some experiments with their magic for Rosas' benefit, with good results, Magnifico is even being friendlier with him and not as tense. everything seems to be going well... but then Magnifico notices that some wishes have... disappeared. and in the distance, you can see a light on the outskirts of Rosas... a green light... oh no, no no no no- it has to be a mistake- a coincidence- The scene is made where help is sought from the town to find the traitor who stole the wishes, the people are worried, and they are attentive. Asha and Star Boy are confused: why would someone steal the wishes if only Magnifico can fulfill them? There is no way to know who it was? How could he get into the palace? Daliah seems especially distressed, it almost seems like she wants to approach Queen Amaya to tell her something. but at the last moment he decides not to and runs away. Asha and Star Boy get worried and go after her, following her through Rosas until they reach the outskirts of the kingdom. and that's when they see it. Morgan. He has his mirror scepter, Daliah is in front of him, tired from running.

Morgan has several orbs around him, stained and withered, it takes Asha a second to realize they are WISHES. THE LOST WISHES, HE WAS INFECTING THEM..

Now, two possible ways this could end. one attached to the film, another more of my own interpretation. The one attached to the movie is that, Morgan uses his powers augmented by wishes and manages to temporarily absorb Star Boy, and with his powers he manages to keep the entire kingdom of Rosas under his thumb. even Mangifico (maybe controlling it and only true love's kiss can break it?). but Asha, using what Magnifico taught her, manages to make a collective spell to summon the star and thus weaken Morgan, allowing the wishes to leave him and Star Boy using his powers/Magnifico to lock him in the mirror of his scepter. My own interpretation would be that Morgan would rather use people's fears, using their Wishes as a base, infecting them and in a certain way controlling them (and taking away vitality from the people of Rosas). that is the source of the power of evil, fear and ignorance. Then the people of Rosas, seeing that they are all weakened and that the wishes make Morgan stronger, decide to give the remaining wishes to Magnifico and Asha, so that they can recover and be able to face Morgan. Just saying that not only do they not need the physical desire for it to be fulfilled, but they will work to make it happen all together, now the COLLECTIVE desire is to defeat the villain. and thus they manage to give a Power Up to both Asha and Magnifico to fight with Morgan and thus free Star Boy, who similarly ends up locking Morgan in the mirror forever. In the end there is almost no wish left intact, Rosas is a mess, but now they have a new aura of optimism, of desire to try, to work to improve, the people decide to help with their own hands instead of just using magic. There could be a time skip for when Rosas is completely rebuilt, there could be more equity in magical and non-magical users, people no longer depend so much on their desires and work as a team with the few sorcerers there are to make everything better. Asha is Magnifico's official successor, so she is crowned princess of Rosas. while Amaya and Mangifico teach new, younger magic users. Simon is a guard, Dahlia found a way to feel complete in her own way (maybe working with Asha's mom) Star Boy and Asha together, as well as Amaya and Magnifico. In general the message would be that there are dreams that are selfish and that can lead to destruction, that should not be pursued. While there are dreams that are sincere but you have to work for them, everything you can, even if you need help to fulfill them, it is up to YOU to make it happen. and like that, this story is over. END

Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!

This was by long shot the LARGEST work i Ever done, but i hope You guys like it.

#headcanons #wish #wish 2023 #disney wish #wish disney #wish asha #wish amaya #wish magnifico #wish dahlia #wish star #wish simon #wish spoilers #wish au

[apex-academy]

Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#17)

“.......”

“...”

“........”

It is... definitely too late to hide anyone from anyone here. This is happening. Now. Apparently.

I gingerly grip Mahavir’s shoulder. Feels like I’m taking sides I shouldn’t, but it’s not like Tsunyasha would let me do this. And she’s at less risk of falling over or fainting.

...Probably.

“E... Excuse me.”

He attempts to shuffle forward, but there’s still a whole room between him and the Nurse’s Office.

“Are you addressing me, whelp?”

“......”

I take a deep breath.

“He just needs to get to the Nurse’s Office. Did you have business there?”

“I need no business to go where I please.”

“Okay, then were you just going there?”

“Perhaps I shall. Would that suffice to drive you fools away?”

“.......”

I see his lips move, but whatever he says is beyond hearing.

“Mahavir?”

“.........”

Though he still has to move his head slowly, he looks up at her more properly. The hand that isn’t propping him against the wall clenches.

“...Will you?”

“...”

What, go to the Nurse’s Office?

“Will you... excuse me?”

“Will you ever...”

He doesn’t manage to finish, but he’s said enough.

Can he ever be excused for what he did? Not just in general, but by the very person he hurt? The only one who can really absolve him, whatever the rest of us may try to say.

“......”

She takes a slow step forward and stops there.

“Hmph. You think I would pardon a foolish whelp of anything?”

“I am she who passes holy judgment, sinner. None of you will be excused by my hand, except perhaps from this world.”

It’s all such standard Tsunyasha-speak. Does it even matter that Mahavir’s the one asking? Does she not want to think about what happened—what happened right here, in fact—or is it so aggressively blocked out that she doesn’t even know it happened?

But for a second, I know I saw...

...distress. And though she and Mahavir didn’t get along before this, she’s never had quite that reaction.

So...

Is this how she really feels?

“Well? Do you wish to grovel, worm? It may not change your fate, but it would be amusing.”

“.......”

I sure hope it’s intentional when he falls to his knees.

“Ah—”

I lose my grip on his shoulder, but maybe it’s for the best. This is between him and Tsunyasha, even if she acts completely unaffected. Should I be here at all?

Well. I shouldn’t be leaving my probably-not-concussed burn victim patient unattended, anyway, so not worth debating the ethics on that.

I avert my gaze, at least, but it’s still easy enough to picture their faces. Especially with Mahavir’s voice more gravelly by the minute.

“I have wronged you... terribly. If I truly cannot be forgiven, then... I... understand.”

“......”

He pauses, probably to un-grit his teeth.

“Likewise, if there is no way to atone... I understand.”

“But if there is anything... anything... that I could do to make things right... even the smallest bit...”

“Please...”

I dare a look at Tsunyasha.

“...”

“Hardly.”

“—!”

“Amusing though your pathetic display may be, you mortals can never hope to redeem yourselves from your fates.”

“I am not talking about some ambiguous ‘mortals’! I am talking about myself, and what I personally... am responsible for...!”

“...” 

I can’t tell if she’s thinking or waiting.

“About... what I did to you... right here. How I... hurt you...!”

“Silence.”

“...!”

“Men like you shall NOT tell me what did and did not happen.”

“As if you could lay a single hand on the Holy Assassin! Foolishness!”

She takes a silent step sideways, opposite the wall Mahavir slumps against.

“Perhaps you ought to stay on your knees for the rest of your short life. A posture befitting such an insignificant worm.”

She strides past us without another hitch.

...”Men,” huh? Was that just a synonym for “mortal,” or...

“.......” I’m overthinking this.

I finally turn to look at Mahavir instead. He isn’t in tears, but he did sound like it. Suppressed coughing, maybe.

“...........”

“...”

I give him a minute, but he can only calm down so much.

“...Mahavir.”

“.......”

“Are you able to get up? I still need to get you to the Nurse’s Office.”

“...........”

He can’t actually intend to stay there until Tsunyasha tells him otherwise, can he? That wasn’t a real olive branch she gave him, it was just...

I don’t know, exactly. It’s not like I’m in her head. I’m just suddenly afraid I might understand some part of her better than I thought. But I could be dead wrong. 

I sure hope so.

Mahavir stays silent long enough I crouch down to make sure he’s still with us. It takes a while, and a lot of pulling on my part, but I manage to coax him back to his feet. He still doesn’t say a word.

No one...

No one is happy with this. Not me, not him, and I know Tsunyasha can’t be, either. Not in any meaningful way, at least.

“...Mahavir.”

I speak as I slowly guide him forward. His footfalls are dull, ominous thuds.

“She’s not ready yet. That’s all.”

“...........”

“She may not be able to process what happened.”

“I don’t know how long it will take.” Don’t know if it will ever happen, but that’s not a helpful point right now.

“But... she might have a better answer for you someday. A real one.”

“No point trying to force it before then.”

I open the door, the faint lemon-cleaner-and-antiseptic smell wafting out.

“Let’s just make sure you can both make it to that point, okay?”

“..............”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t fight me as I lower him onto a cot.

Guess he needs time to process, too.

...Don’t we all.

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex6 #fanganronpa

[symbioticsimplicity]

In Another Life

Shuake quick fic based on this post by @arcsin27 thanks for passing on the brain worms!

As the door swung closed behind Maruki, an oppresive silence filled the little cafe Akira had long since begun thinking of as his home. 

It wasn't the first heavy silence he and Akechi had shared, but he was all but sure it would be their last.

The thought filled his head with noise, thousands of thwarted plans and half uttered pleas coalesing into static behind his eyes. Trapped, just like every other feeling he kept locked behind his teeth. He'd kept hundreds of things to himself by now, he was pretty sure he was an expert.

And yet, when those glaring red eyes turned back to him, that tightly held control freyed.

"Don't tell me you're actually considering taking that asinine deal." Akechi scoffed, as though the mere idea were beneath discussing, as if he weren't going to--

"If we don't you're going to--"

The sharp stare his rival sent him cut the words off at their knees.

"If you fold to such a trivial threat, perhaps you were never worthy of being my rival in the first place." He near spat, "To think, the famed leader of the Phantom Thieves would be so easy to manipulate."

Akira clenched his teeth, all those unspoken words piling up in his throat until he felt choked with them. He wanted to argue, to rage, to do something other than just stand there and let Akechi win. But everything he could say wouldn't tilt the scales, no if anything it would only convince Akechi he was truly in the right.

"I--" His voice broke, and he couldn't figure out what to say anyway so he left the sentence there, glancing away as if the future was looming just behind Akechi's head.

"You are." Akechi snarled, as though the thought alone was enough to insense him, "Kurusu, I'm aware you hardly listen to anyone, but if ever there were a time, listen to me now."

Akira couldn't bring himself to look at him, but that didn't seem to be stopping Akechi.

"If you take this deal, you will be going directly against my wishes."

"You want to die?!" Akira snapped in an uncharacteristic show of anger.

"I think I ought to!" Akechi growled back, "You're the only one who doesn't seem to agree!"

Akira reeled back as though struck, but quickly recovered, "Of course I don't."

"Right, of course, how silly of me to forget. You're the hero, you don't think anyone should die, no matter how monstrous." Akechi rolled his eyes, "You're half as deluded as Maruki."

"Is it...is it really so wrong?" Akira whispered, unable to utter the words with his usual confidence, "To want a second chance?"

He forced himself to look back to Akechi, finding him scrutenizing him with that stare of his. The one that made Akira feel like a bug pinned to a wall. 

"I know you've thought about it," He continued when Akechi made no move to speak, "What would have happened if we'd met sooner. What we could have been like if not for--"

Akira's hand sought his hair but ended up pressed against his forehead instead as the thought tried to sweep him away. It wasn't a new fantasy by any means, in fact it was probably the very one Maruki had plucked out of him that saw Akechi standing here right now. 

It changed every time, whether they were playing chess or in the debate club together, from rival schools or fast friends, it hardly mattered. Akira just wanted to be by his side, to compete with him because they wanted to, not because God or Fate or whatever was forcing their hands. He wanted the same quiet evenings they'd already shared, and the kinds of outings he had with the rest of the Thieves. And in the small hours of the night, he could admit he may even want something more...

"It doesn't matter." Akechi's cool voice shattered the sugar spun daydream, "That's not for us. It isn't who we are, Akira."

The use of his first name hit like a physical blow, leaving Akira reeling as he looked back up into Akechi's eyes.

He looked tired, far more so than Akira himself felt. Resignation was etched into every shadow falling across his face, in the looseness of his muscles and the blank stare he met Akira's own startled one with. 

"But it could be." Akira breathed, desperation curling around the syllables like a living thing all it's own.

Akechi's eyes closed and for a moment Akira could have sworn he heard him pray for patience. 

"No, it couldn't. No matter how good the lie, it would still only ever be that." His contempt twisted the words until Akira could feel the barbs of them digging into him, "Would you really rather swallow some shallow immitation than to-- than live with my memory?"

Akira heard what he didn't say, of course he did. It was something he'd noticed about him early on, when he'd first realized how much of Akechi's outer self was a mask. He spent so much time editing himself, trimming away the pieces others would doubtlessly find objectionable, forcing himself to condense into the narrow box he was expected to fill, until he had a well contructed front he could use to fool the entire world. Everyone except Akira himself. 

If he took Maruki's lie it would be like he was putting Akechi back in his cage himself.

He wished they were at the gym so he could throw a punch or something. 

Instead he swallowed down the ugly neediness bubbling in the back of his throat. 

"You're right." The words tasted like the bitter herbal tea Takemi had given him to help him recover from one of her harsher clinical trials, "It wouldn't be the same."

Akechi took a deep breath but looked no closer to being relieved, "Then you've come to your senses?"

Akira nodded, "I know what needs to be done. I'll do it but-"

Akechi's eyes narrowed, his frown deepening instantly, "But?"

"I'm not strong enough not to be a little selfish." Akira said to his shoes, "If this is going to be it- would you stay with me tonight? Please?"

He knew Akechi would hear what he didn't say, the same as Akira had for him earlier. 

Don't make me let you go without ever having had you to begin with. 

For a moment he only stared. Akira could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, could almost hear them as he read each micro-change in his expression. It was an art that had taken him a long while to learn, but it had been worth every moment. 

Finally he sighed, some of the manic energy that clung to him disappating as his posture sagged infinitesimally. 

"I suppose I do still owe you a duel."

Akira's knees nearly gave out but he managed to keep that little bit of dignity intact and nodded instead.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I have every intention of winning this time." Akechi smirked, "Unless of course, you enjoy the taste of pavement, in which case, you're welcome~"

Akira heard it for what it was, an offering of a distraction. One Akechi could more than likely use just as badly. Selfish as he was being, Akira could at least recognize how hard it had to be to argue for his own destruction. 

So he took a deep breath, and let Joker rise to the surface to meet his rival.

"If you can, I'll personally write you a Thank You note." 

The fire that had been absent Akechi's eyes since he walked in rekindled, redoubled even. Without the vineer of civility he'd affected for so long, his expressions were much more extreme. Akira would be hard pressed to describe this one as anything short of 'bloodlust'.

"I'll take it with me to hell." Akechi growled.

Akira winced, but only just barely. He himself was guilty of making light of his own 'death', he could hardly fault Akechi for doing the same.

"Inokashira Park?"

"Thought you'd never ask." 

They fought until the sun went down. 

It hadn't been hard to find an isolated spot, not with the weather so cold. There was hardly anyone around, and even fewer who seemed to care about a pair of teenage boys roughhousing. 

Despite this fight taking place outside of the metaverse, neither boy had taken it any less seriously than their first. If anything, Akira felt like Akechi was fighting harder than their first time. It reminded him of the first time they'd played billiards without Akechi using his non-dominant hand. He was always good, but unleashed he was a force of nature, all snarling teeth and vicious blows until Akira could hardly keep up with him. 

It was beautiful in the same way bloodspatter could look like a painting. Not something most people would ever see, or appreciate if they did, but Akira couldn't help but to be in awe of him.

When he found himself pinned to the pavement, just as Akechi had promised, he couldn't even find it in himself to be disappointed.

The other was above him, panting and a little brused, grinning like a coyote with a fresh kill between it's jaws.

"Ha!" He crowed, "I knew those healing spells were the only thing keeping you-"

"You could have killed him." Akira interrupted.

Akechi's smile didn't fade, but confusion crept into it, "Whom?"

"Shido. You could have killed him. You're stronger than he is, even in his ruler form." So why didn't you?

Akechi flinched back, though the action caused him to sit heavily on top of Akira's stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of him a second time.

"I wanted revenge, Kurusu, not mearly to kill him. It wouldn't do to let him escape into the comfort of death before he knew why exactly he was being targeted in the first place."

Akira nodded, "So it's because you're a drama queen."

Akechi looked so affronted Akira raised his hands to block the blow he was sure was coming. A good thing too, as Akechi's knuckles connected with his wrists seconds after he'd raised them.

"Shut the fuck up, that's not it at all!"

"It sounds like it from where I'm standing."

"You are not standing!" He hissed back, grabbing Akira's offending wrists and pinning them down beside his head, "You are lying on your ass, soundly defeated and you ought to have more respect for your current predicament!"

Akira could have wiggled his leg out from beneath Akechi, barred it across his stomach and kicked him off of him, but that would have required higher thought, which he was sorely lacking. His focus had been stolen by the pressure on his wrists, across his hips, against the tip of his nose where Akechi's own was currently pressed as he growled at him. It was the closest they'd ever been, Akira was sure, and from here he could even see the light clumping of the mascara he hadn't previously been aware of his rival using. 

His breath came hot against Akira's cheek, his pulse thundering where his palms met Akira's wrists. He was just so alive it made Akira's heart ache all the more to remember that soon, too damn soon, he'd be gone.

"Goro..." He whispered, his voice pitching oddly as he struggled against tears, "I don't think I can do this."

He could see recognition fire in Akechi's eyes, could see the effect the use of his first name had in the way his nostrils flared, his teeth gritting. He could also pinpoint the moment he decided to toss it all to the side.

"You said you would." 

"I know."

"You aren't allowed to lie, you're supposed to be the hero."

"I know."

"Then promise me, instead." Akechi didn't move back, but to Akira's surprise moved closer, "If I give this to you, you'll do what needs done without hesitation."

He swallowed almost compulsively, his eyes rivoted to Akechi's as if pulled by magnets. Despite the rage that seemed to have made a permanent home there, his gaze was still steady enough to be calming. The center of a maelstrom, a river in a desert. 

"I..." Akira was not weak, nor was he selfish, despite how desperately he wanted to be this time, "I promise."

The words were little more than a breath, but he could feel them bind to something deep in his heart. It was not unlike when he made a deal with someone, and the realization had tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Akechi must have felt it too because for a moment he softened, as if Akira's promise truly brought him peace. It was stupid, worse it was evil that something like this could make Goro Akechi smile genuinely for the first time in months.

Akira didn't have long to bemoan it however, as seconds later that smile was pressing against his own lips. 

The most shocking thing was that it wasn't shocking at all. It felt like a foregone conclusion they simply hadn't had the time to discuss before, but one that was inevitable nonetheless. From Akechi's hands cupping Akira's face, to Akira's finding Akechi's waist, it was almost as though they'd finally found their way back into their own narrative, the one they'd been forced to abandon all those quiet nights ago. The natural conclusion of a perpetual motion machine designed to stop on doomsday. 

Akira didn't notice he'd begun to cry until he could no longer breathe through his nose and had to pull away.

"Goddamn it." He swore, tucking his face against Akechi's shoulder, "Goddamn it!"

"I would point out that that seems to be part of the problem, but it seems redundant." Akechi sounded no better than Akira, his own voice straining to stay scathing and failing miserably.

"I hate this." Akira allowed himself the honest admission, "Why'd it have to be like this?"

"Born cursed." Akechi muttered, his own face buried in Akira's neck, "I've always been unlucky."

"One more thing we've got in common." Akira squeezed his eyes closed, "At least...at least I'm not going to have to wonder."

"Would you have spent your nights sleepless otherwise?" 

It was supposed to be a joke, but neither had it in them to make it one at the moment.

"Yeah." Akira's hold tightened, "Already have."

"Over little old me?" Akechi chuckled, but the sound was humorless, "I would have thought the great Joker would have far more important things to occupy his thoughts."

"You overestimate how much I actually plan." And underestimate how much I care about you.

"It's... it's comforting to know at least one person will miss me." 

Maybe was because he knew Akira couldn't see him, or maybe it was the impending eleventh hour getting to him, but the admission was so heartbreakingly honest Akira could hardly stand to hear it. While he knew Akechi didn't have family, and he saw how quickly he disappeared from the public's thoughts, it had yet to register that he may be the only one to actually mourn him. 

"I'm going to miss you for the rest of my life." Akira held him as close as he could, feeling Akechi's heartbeat thudding against his own ribs from the other side despite the layers between them, "Who else is going to keep me on my toes?"

A wet laugh broke from him, messy and honest and a little deranged, "Selfishly I hope you never find an answer to that."

"Me too." Akira agreed, "I'd rather just wait to see you again in the next life."

"Disgusting." Akechi's tone sat in opposition of the way he finally relaxed against Akira, "Do you really believe in that nonsense?"

"I've ridden around in a bus that was also a talking cat, rencarnation doesn't sound that implausable."

"Touche." 

"I hope it's true." Akira answered anyway, "I'd-- I'd like to live beside you. For real this time."

Akechi didn't anwer, but his hands clenched tighter where they were bunched into the fabric of Akira's jacket. 

Akira didn't mind the silence this time. It was heavy, but it wasn't oppressive this time. He'd found an emergency exit for the things he'd long left unsaid, and though he was no closer to feeling at peace with any of this, he did feel less regretful. 

With Akechi's shoulders now relaxed, Akira could see the sky above them. It had gotten dark, with a few of the most tenacious stars fighting to be seen through the city's light polution. It looked the same as it ever did here, murky and washed out, not like the sky back home. Yusuke would have said something about the way beauty could still be seen even in the least condusive circumstances, but Akira wasn't put together enough to attempt the thought. 

"Akira?" 

"Yeah, Goro?"

"Earlier, you asked me if I wanted to die." The words were so subdued, if he hadn't been holding him, Akira would never have thought they'd come from Akechi, "I told you that I thought I deserve to."

Akira didn't say anything, but Akechi wasn't looking for him to.

"I've done a great many horrible things in my life, most without remorse, as they were all in service of my ultimate goal. I still don't regret most of them, even those perpetrated against your friends. I'm a monster, and I know that. I've made peace with it. I always thought I would die at the end of all this, pragmatist that I am, I never made a single plan for what I would do after Shido was dealt with." 

"Where are you going with this...?"

"I'm not a man with a future, I never have been, so when you asked if I wanted to die... the answer was obvious to me. Of course I should die. But...that isn't what you asked." Akechi breathed out a long, heavy breath that made Akira's neck tingle, made his eyes flutter a little, "I don't... I don't want to die."

He sounded so small, so young, so unlike himself that it made Akira's chest ache, made him yearn to comfort him. There wasn't a thing he could say to make it better, for either of them, so he turned as he usually did, to action when words failed him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then to his temple, then his forehead as he could reach them. He was trembling, or Akechi was, but he couldn't tell the difference at this point.

 He wanted to tell him that dying wouldn't fix the things that he'd done, or that he'd only done them because of Shido, or a million other platitudes he'd see right through. But even if he could make his mind connect with his mouth again, he knew Akechi well enough to know any of those would only sound like pity to him. The best he could do was to hold him while they processed the latest addition to their heaping plate of misery. 

"This second life of yours'..." Akechi eventually spoke again, "What would it look like?"

"A lot like this." Akira managed to force through his choked off throat, "But, you know, happier."

Akechi hummed, his hands now mindlessly rubbing against Akira's sides in a way that made him suspect the only thing he regularly showed affection to were probably dogs.

"You'd still want to fist fight me in a park somewhere?"

"Definitely." Akira nodded, "You need it."

"I need it? If someone were not there to kick down your ego every so often, you'd never fit through a door again."

"Same goes for you, Mr. Ace High School Detective." Akira nearly snorted, "If I had a ten yen coin for every time I heard a group of girls screaming about you, I could have just paid off Kaneshiro outright." 

Akechi rolled his eyes so hard his whole body moved with him, "I think they mistook me for an idol."

"You're pretty enough to be."

"Have you always been this shameless a flirt, or is this some new feature I've been unlucky enough to uncover?" Akechi sounded exhasperated, though Akira could feel his face flush from where it was still pressed against him.

"Yes."

They continued on like that, trading barbs and bodyheat until it was too cold to stay out any longer. Akira nearly managed to put tomorrow from his mind when Akechi allowed him to take his hand as they walked back to the train station. 

The world had a sense of vertigo to it that had little to do with the liminal space of a late night train ride. There were too many factors for Akira to pick just one, but it resulted in a subdued ride that faded into a subdued walk, broken only by Morgana's screeched complaints about how long they'd been gone. If he saw their hands, still entwined at their sides, he kept blessedly quiet about it.

Well, until Akechi followed Akira into Le Blanc.

"What is he still doing here?" Morgana groused, "Go home, tomorrow is going to be busy."

"I was invited to stay." Akechi said archly, dropping his jacket over the back of one of the barstools. 

Morgana threw a betrayed look at Akira who was busying himself making them each a bowl of curry, as they'd missed dinner.

"Uh, earth to Joker?" Morgana hopped up onto the counter in front of him, "That's a terrible idea! In case you forgot, he's literally shot you in the face before!"

"Don't care." Akira easily answered, hip checking the fridge closed.

Morgana couldn't have looked more shocked if he tried, contrasted sharply by Akechi's sharp smile.

"Oh, I like this side of you." He needled, "Rebellion suits you."

"Thanks."

"Hold on, back up, wait wait wait!" Morgana shook his head, "What's gotten into you, did he brainwash you?!"

Akira set down the food, taking a deep breath to calm himself before turning back to the black and white cat. 

"No. He didn't. I know the risks, Morgana, thank you." He replied evenly, "But you heard Maruki earlier. This...this is probably the last time I'm going to get to see him."

"You should be doing cartwheels about that!" Morgana shouted, big blue eyes wide with disbelief, "I know you're sentimental but jeez!"

"He was my wish, Morgana." The words came out a bit sharper than he meant for them to and he forced his usual calm to come to him, "Out of all the things Maruki could have used to try to keep me from fighting him, he picked Akechi. Think about that for a second."

It took almost a full minute, in which time Akira got both himself and Akechi dished up. He was opening a can of tuna for Morgana when a slow, pained 'Ooh' reached his ears. 

"Okay. I get it now. I can't say I understand or...approve, but I get it."

Akira hummed to himself as he sat down beside Akechi.

"Wait, where is he sleeping?"

Akira looked down over his glasses at Morgana, taking a purposeful, slow bite of his food.

"Right... I'm going to Futaba's." 

With that, the little cat popped up and all but ran to the door, jiggling the handle down to let himself out. 

"I had no idea Morgana could be so considerate." Akechi chuckled, "I think you may have scarred him for life with those insinuations of your intentions with me."

"Who's insinuating?" Akira took another bite of his food. 

Akechi froze mid bite, but recovered himself quickly enough that someone else likely wouldn't have noticed it at all. As it was, Akira was paying enough attention to even catch the light blush that painted itself across his cheeks.

"Bold of you to assume I'd be so easy, Kurusu." Akechi quirked a brow, his expression otherwise flat.

"Bold of you to assume I couldn't win you over anyway." Akira retorted, bouncing the verbal tennis ball back into Akechi's court. 

"You have that much faith in yourself, huh? You of all people should know how stubborn I can be."

"You want to make this a bet?" Akira fought to keep his expression as neutral as ever. 

Akechi's smile flashed across his face, like a knift glinting in the sun. 

"Generally a safe manipulation tact, but you're going to have to do better than that." He sat back, folding his arms.

Damn.

"Before we get into this arguement, I'm going to need you to be sure you can handle the reprocussions of losing it." Akira countered, mimicking Akechi's posture but with the addition of folding his legs at the knee.

Akechi's brows made for his forehead in a brief moment of shock, but he quickly brought them back under his control. 

"I think I can handle anything you throw my way. Surely if nothing else, I've proven that by now." 

Akira nodded, a smile gradually blooming across his face as he sat forward.

"Alright then." 

#shuake #persona 5 #goro akechi #akira kurusu #fall out boy caused this and I think we're all entitled to financial compensation #i could have kept going #i might be convinced to but i figure this ended up long enough by now

[folklorianhaze]

Monster

Pairing: Manon x Elide

Rating: M

Tags: One Shot, Book 4: Queen of Shadows, Character Study, Tumblr Prompt, Rare Pairings, some canon typical mentions of violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Implied/Referenced Sex

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: "She had been born with a heart as dark as the thickets of Oakwald on a moonless night. Born into the world wailing and bloodied, tearing her way out of her mother, a true Blackbeak warrior to the core. She could not love, could not care for others as humans could. So why bother upholding a worthless illusion of it?"

--

Written for an anonymous tumblr prompt sent to me! They wanted me to write a Manon/Elide piece based on the line "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," and I came up with this as a result. Thanks so much, anon, and I hope you enjoy your fic! <3

Read it on AO3 here!

Manon Blackbeak, Wing Leader of the Ironteeth aerial legion for the King of Adarlan and heir to the Blackbeak witch clan, felt an exhaustion like nothing she’d known before settling deep into her bones as she slid into her chambers. Ordinarily, the quiet that greeted her beyond the door would have been welcome, comforting, but today the silence rang decidedly hollow.

She was alone. It had never felt like such a weight before.

Iron nails retracting, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, as if to banish the trembling in her cold fingers. Even here, without eyes to observe and pick apart her every movement, she refused to allow herself the privilege of crumbling. She’d never been one for weeping and wallowing in self-pity, and that would not change here. Not even for Asterin’s sake.

As she strode into the room and swept the bloodred cape from her shoulders — the cape she had won when her grandmother had made her kill that self-righteous Crochan in front of the entire Ironteeth host — her body felt particularly heavy. Part of her debated turning around and spending some more time in the aerie with Abraxos instead, but pride would not allow her to be chased from her own bedchambers. If anyone else were to see, to catch on to the fact that she hardly felt like much of a leader at the moment . . . 

Unacceptable. To present a unified front right now was her duty above all else. And she certainly wouldn’t pick now as a time to fall apart entirely.

Even if Asterin . . . the burning, condemning look in her eyes today . . . 

Manon snarled. It was certainly all well and good for her cousin to judge. She had no idea the pressure Manon was under — that all of them were under — nor did she realize how sticking out their necks any farther could endanger them all. She had seen that little act with the Crochan execution for what it was: a threat from her grandmother, a test to ensure that Manon would remain carefully in line. She knew exactly what she stood to lose if she stepped outside of such a deliberately-laid demarcation, and if Asterin wanted to reproach her for it, if that was how this had to be . . .

A sigh pushed its way out of her. She’d replaced Asterin today as her Second. The ranks of the Thirteen never changed. But the words had been out of her mouth scarcely before she’d even known what she was saying, and now, no matter the way her stomach twisted within her, no matter any misgivings she might have, she could in no way walk back her decision and risk looking weak.

And all the while, the odious Duke Perrington remained on her heels, requesting Blackbeak witches for whatever . . . experiments he and his ilk were carrying out beneath the mountains of Morath. And more and more, she was beginning to feel backed into a corner. The sword hanging over all their heads felt more inevitable than ever. What sort of Wing Leader would she be, to send her Blackbeaks into the arms of that human worm for his petty schemes?

And yet, who would she be if she sacrificed the Thirteen to the whims of her grandmother?

“Oh — W-Wing Leader,” came a low, husky voice from behind her. “I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t interrupted anything.”

Manon turned, silver eyebrows arching as she came face-to-face with exactly whom she’d expected. Elide Lochan’s dark eyes were wide as she lingered in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, studying Manon with a look that seemed to see not just through her, but directly into her. As instinctual as it was for her to flinch away from such a vulnerability, some strange part of her thrilled at the sight of it, at the utter lack of fear in the human woman’s gaze. Not many had been able to stare down the Blackbeak heir like that, so completely undaunted.

Then again, she supposed Elide hadn’t exactly witnessed her at the height of her glory lately.

With a dry, humorless little puff of a laugh, Manon said, “The only thing you have interrupted, Elide Lochan, is an evening spent wallowing.” She ushered the human in with a graceless wave of her hand. “Come in. And close the door.”

Elide obliged, allowing the door to fall shut behind her as she made her way into the room. Her gait was slow, stilted, and though she tried, she couldn’t quite disguise a tiny wince as she put her weight on her bad foot; Manon could only surmise that the bone-deep pain that often plagued the old, poorly-healed injury was particularly harrowing this evening. For some reason, she found herself wondering if asking Ghislaine for any information on poultices or pain-relieving herbs might be an option worth looking into.

“Sit,” Manon said, though it ended up coming out as more of a command than a direct show of hospitality. She’d never been one for idle niceties or platitudes, and in any case, Elide hardly seemed to mind. She gestured to the edge of the bed, somehow not finding it in herself to subject the girl to sitting on the pallet of hay on the cold ground.

With a grateful, relieved sigh, Elide sank down onto the corner of the mattress, closing her eyes as she leaned back and allowed her bad leg to stretch out. Manon’s stomach twisted at the sight of it — the ruin of her pale ankle, the strange angle at which the girl’s foot now sat. She could skin Vernon Lochan alive with only her iron nails for what he’d put his niece through, and take a good long time doing it. Not for the first time since she’d met the oily weasel of a man, she found herself thinking of how deserving he would be of a matching injury to the one he’d left Elide with.

That anyone should suffer like that was abhorrent, even to someone as ruthless as Manon . . . but the fact that a woman with witch blood flowing through her veins had been shackled like a dog, tied to the earth by some sniveling mortal . . . 

Before she realized it, her iron nails punched out, slicing thin lines into her palms. Elide, observant as ever, seemed to make note of it as Manon shook her hands free of their tightly-clenched fists, dark eyes keenly following every movement.

“You seem troubled,” Elide stated, and from anyone else Manon might have bristled at the insolence, the presumption, but the human’s words were frank and undeterred. “Did something happen today with you and the Thirteen?”

Manon looked up from where she’d been examining the small cuts left behind by her own razor-sharp nails. She didn’t dare let the surprise show on her face. “What do you know of it?” she asked, perhaps a shade too sharply. 

She told herself she didn’t care if Asterin had been mouthing off to everyone in Morath about it. Didn’t care if the entire Thirteen had been disobedient and disrespectful of her rank. Manon gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. No, that was just fine. Perfectly fine by her if they wanted to risk all their necks. She’d just punish them in kind and it was . . . absolutely fine.

Elide gave a small shrug, reaching to pull her curtain of thick, dark hair over one shoulder as she thoughtfully cocked her head. “Oh — no, I haven’t heard anything specific. It was only . . . I saw your Second walking past the mess hall as I finished up my kitchen duty and she seemed out of sorts as well. I . . . I did not intend to assume . . .”

Manon gave another hollow little chuckle, shaking her head with disbelief. “For a human, you are far too observant for your own good,” she muttered. Perhaps as much of an admission as she would give Elide, for now. “And in any case, Asterin is no longer my Second. What does it matter?” she bit out.

“Your Thirteen are a unit,” was all Elide said in response, as if that explained everything. “It — the way you all are with each other — I have never seen anything quite like it before.” A faint red flush tinted the human’s cheeks. “It only . . . I only brought it up because it seems a shame to let that all crumble apart now.”

Bold. This little mortal was bold indeed, for presuming to instruct Manon on how she was to deal with her own warriors. The Blackbeak heir lifted an eyebrow, folding her arms squarely across her chest. When she met Elide’s gaze, she expected the girl to blink, to blush and stammer and look away out of embarrassment or fear. Humans typically reacted that way, always so full of bluster until it came time to put action behind their meaningless, frilly words. Therefore she couldn’t help the mildest shock — and perhaps amusement — that rang through her as Elide met her gaze, and steadily held it. And those eyes of hers, so strangely wise and perceptive, flashing with what almost looked close to challenge.

“Hmph,” Manon concluded. The faintest smirk played at the corner of her mouth. “And I suppose a human such as yourself knows so much about leading a coven of witches.”

Elide didn’t shrink from the sharpness of her words the way Manon had anticipated. She merely swallowed — perhaps a touch unevenly, but that was the extent of any nervousness that could be found — and said, “Perhaps not. But if there’s one thing I believe I do know quite a bit about, it is survival.”

Manon snorted. “You think us incapable of surviving some errant duke’s idle threats, Elide Lochan?” She didn’t dare give voice to the secret worry she’d been nursing in the pit of her stomach lately — that those threats might very well turn to reality, especially if her grandmother had anything to say about it.

Indeed, Elide seemed to sense the very direction of her thoughts. Something in her gaze softened a bit as she responded, “No — of course not. Anyone would be foolish to think you or the rest of your Thirteen incapable. But . . . but I have to imagine that division amongst you . . . perhaps it creates too great a risk.”

Manon nodded curtly. “Which is precisely why I enforced rank earlier. Why Asterin —” she cut herself off, closing her eyes for a moment. Collected herself with a deep breath. After a moment, she shook her head and began again, more smoothly than before, “She has grown reckless, and poses a danger to us all. It is best to cut out any dissent before it festers.”

Elide seemed to consider this for a moment. Manon wasn’t entirely certain why she was curious to hear the human woman’s response — why there was a strange part of her that hoped she would see Manon’s perspective and understand it. She had never cared to explain herself before, and certainly not to some mortal who would be nothing but dust and food for worms in a hundred years. So why — why now did she feel so oddly laid bare, so on edge at the thought of what this girl might say?

“Could there — could there truly be so much harm in hearing them out?” said Elide at last, sliding her contemplative gaze back to Manon’s. “Perhaps that might prove a more efficient way to quiet any discontent. A just and fair leader might —”

“Just? Fair?” Manon snarled. With a bark of disdainful laughter, she shook her head. Raked her fingers through the moon-white hair threatening to spill loose from its braid. “Those are naive ambitions of mortals. When you have lived as long as one of us, you realize the world rewards such things as fairness and justice with little more than suffering in the end. Kindness is not enough to save anyone.”

And kindness, she knew, would not shield Asterin, or the rest of her Thirteen, or even Elide, from those who would do them harm. Manon Blackbeak knew very well who — what — she was, and pretending otherwise would only be a waste of everyone’s time. She had been born with a heart as dark as the thickets of Oakwald on a moonless night. Born into the world wailing and bloodied, tearing her way out of her mother, a true Blackbeak warrior to the core. She could not love, could not care for others as humans could. So why bother upholding a worthless illusion of it?

They have made you into monsters. Made, Manon. And we feel sorry for you.

“The world is not one of your nursemaid’s pretty stories,” Manon said again, what little heart she’d been born with wreathing itself in ice.

“Are you truly so averse to the idea of trying a new approach?” Elide asked, her voice more filled with honest surprise than any kind of judgment. No, she didn’t appear frightened in the slightest — and Manon wasn’t entirely certain if that unnerved her or not. “You really believe yourself to be that much of a monster?”

Manon stiffened, the words hitting her like a blow to her unguarded stomach. Monster. Once, that word had been all she’d aspired towards. She’d gloried in bloodshed, roared at the skies alongside her grandmother and reveled in the terror and awe her very name inspired. She and her Thirteen had glutted themselves on mortal suffering, gotten drunk on the heat and chaos of battle. Once, to be called a monster would have had Manon glowing with pride; to be her grandmother’s creature was all she’d wanted in the world. All she’d ever been taught to want.

Her voice went low and cold as she declared, the words wooden and rehearsed as if she’d said them a thousand times before, “I am all I was born to be. Discipline, obedience, brutality. That is the mark we Blackbeak witches must leave upon the world. We do not suffer weaklings.”

For some reason she couldn’t quite name, the words rang hollow within her.

Elide shook her head, glancing up at the low stone ceiling. Something in Manon’s chest twisted strangely at the sight of it, the look on the girl’s face — as if it had been faintly tinged with something close to disappointment. She wasn’t sure why the idea rattled her so. Why she wanted to grab the human woman by the shoulders and make that expression go away, why she felt as if she’d missed some unseen expectation.

“What?” Manon demanded, a knife-sharp edge creeping into her voice in spite of her efforts to remain cool and unaffected.

Elide just said, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

The silence hung in the air between them, heavy and thick and suddenly much too hard to breathe. Manon took in a whistling breath, and her lungs seemed strangely constricted, her throat tight. Elide’s eyes met hers, so open and free of restraint, so . . . so trusting that they nearly burned Manon to look at. So full of wretched, foolish belief in her that it felt damning.

She had been told she was beautiful before. Human men had complimented her, lavished her with praise before she used them for pleasure and bled them out for the thrill of it afterwards. None of it had ever made her feel anything. None of their empty platitudes had ever been enough to stir something within the dark pit where her heart should be.

But this — Elide’s words, spoken with such sincerity, focusing not on her physical beauty, but upon her character, her intrinsic self . . . she couldn’t quite explain why it threatened the very foundation upon which she stood. Threatened to bring her to her very knees, like the quaking of some great mountain beneath her feet. Or the swell of an approaching summer storm.

It was all Manon could do to pretend to muster up some pride, to regain her composure and give a soft little laugh. She shook her head as if to dismiss the very notion, the very idea that Elide saw her in such a positive light at all.

“Perhaps you are indeed blind, then,” Manon murmured at last, unsure why the thought filled her with the closest thing to sadness she’d felt in a while. “If you truly think so highly of me. Humans do have the unfortunate tendency to trust far too easily.”

Manon strode across the room to where a small, utilitarian mirror had been bolted onto the wall, allowing herself to see her own pale reflection as she made work of unbraiding her hair. Apart from the Thirteen, only Elide Lochan, as they’d been sharing this room to shield her from her uncle Vernon’s threats, had seen her with her hair down like this. Before now, the vulnerability of it had never truly bothered her before. 

“There is good in you, Manon,” Elide said, her resolve unwavering. “I know there is. And it is not how we are born that determines who we are.”

When her hair hung free down past her shoulders, Manon glanced back at Elide, meeting the woman’s gaze through the mirror. And what she saw there . . . in the dim light, the warmth of Elide’s eyes, the smooth sheen of her hair, the delicate curves of her fine-boned body . . . it hit her low in her gut.

She turned back to face Elide. Strode slowly over to the bed, her steps prowling, purposeful. Some part of her remained dimly aware that this was yet another mask, an attempt to chase away how close to striking some painful truth they’d come, but she pushed it away as she sank down onto the bed right at Elide’s side. As she leaned in, and a taunting, smug little smile curved at the edges of her full, red mouth. She savored the flush on Elide’s cheeks as she moved closer, the way her witch’s hearing could pick up on the fluttering pulse in the woman’s neck, the quickening of her breath.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Manon said.

And at last, there it was — she got the satisfaction of something finally shattering through Elide’s carefully-maintained composure. Manon watched intently as Elide took a shallow, shuddering little breath,her tongue darting quickly out to lick her lips.

“You’re taunting me,” said Elide, making a valiant effort at refusing to back down from her.

A low chuckle rose from the back of Manon’s throat. “You have absolutely no idea what it would be like for you if I truly wished to taunt you, Elide Lochan.”

The redness on Elide’s face deepened, bringing out the freckles along the bridge of her nose. She leaned in closer, until her nose and Manon’s were nearly touching, until their rasping breaths were nearly one. “Go ahead and tease me, then,” Elide breathed, her words a shaky whisper. “Keep trying to push me away. But you won’t make me believe it, Manon. You won’t change that you’re good inside, and you know it.”

“It’s been a long day,” Manon all but growled, her fingers burying themselves in the fabric of Elide’s rumpled tunic, “and I want a distraction. You can provide it, human,” she said, allowing the implication to sink in as her eyes traveled to Elide’s lips, then back to her eyes again, “or get out.”

And to her surprise, Elide Lochan proved all too eager to rise to the occasion.

Without any further prompting, Elide leaned in and closed the remaining distance between them. The softness of her lips brushed against Manon’s, and a white-hot, urgent need curled tightly within the Blackbeak heir’s stomach. Yes, it had been an age since she’d taken a human woman to her bed, and Elide . . . gods, she just wanted Elide to stop looking at her like that. Wanted nothing but pure pleasure and release to take the edge of their conversation, to make Elide realize that there was nothing more to be had from her.

To make her see that caring . . . it was too much for her to bear right now. The thought of risking Asterin and the Thirteen was hard enough right now without having to make room for anyone else. So right now, it was best to just keep her at an emotional distance.

Elide’s kisses were light, testing the waters. Tentative in a way that came dangerously close to endearing. Featherlight kisses trailed from Manon’s lips to the sharp curve of her jaw, the slope of her neck. Manon’s eyes fluttered and she tipped her head back, gritting her teeth to hold back the moan she felt building in her throat.

Enough of this tenderness. She didn’t need sweetness, didn’t want to be bedded like some blushing virgin — she growled, getting ready to tell Elide just that, and then —

— and then it was Elide pulling back, Elide with the beginnings of a smug, confident smirk on her face. Rising from the bed and moving back from her, an amused glint in her eyes. As if . . . as if she’d been the one to cleverly pull the strings this whole time, to work Manon up into a frenzy and —

“Enough toying around, Elide, and get on with it,” Manon said roughly, her voice betraying her need.

“Perhaps another time,” said Elide Lochan with a chuckle, that beautiful husky voice as smooth and unaffected as Manon had ever heard it.

And before Manon could even protest, before she could bellow and demand that Elide come back here this instant and finish what she started, the human woman had all but breezed out of the room, moving surprisingly quickly even with her bad leg. As if . . . as if this had been a plan she’d formed in that devious little mind.

Perhaps if she weren’t quite so frustrated, she might have found it within herself to be impressed by it. Though Elide was mortal, Manon did have to admit . . . that witches’ blood in the girl’s veins ran true.

Manon sat in bed, staring blankly ahead at the door.

Sat there for what felt like an eternity, cold and empty and aching.

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog fanfiction #manon/elide #manon/elide fanfic #malide #malide fanfiction #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #sjm fanfic

[azol-otl]

While I know that Jason interacts with Harvey Dent in Task Force Z and that he had arcs with Black Mask and Penguin in rhato, I wish that dc would explore what he thinks of these men more thoroughly and with respect or at least references to his pre-flashpoint history with them.

Because one of Jason’s big points for why killing would be the better option is the amount of bodies afterwards is not? Why are the lives of innocents worth less than their murderers or their hypothetical redemption?

Jason saved Black Mask’s life as Robin. He is the reason Sionis was alive to do everything he did. It would be so interesting to see that fact eat Jason up inside. That because he saved this man’s life, Sionis was able to become someone that ruins lives whether they be his clientele (which Catherine would have been) or his workers (which Willis would have been).  Sionis is basically one of the biggest threats to kids like Jason was, but also one of the biggest threats to Park Row and from what we’ve seen he’s made himself a pillar of Gotham’s underworld, meaning that he can’t just be killed because the fallout would be catastrophic.

With Penguin, well the story was retconned and will never be touched again because it paints Bruce is a negative light, but back in the day he used to just be a jewel thief. None of this organized crime business he mostly stole stuff. And at one point he actually tried to go straight. And Bruce didn’t believe him despite Jason arguing that Penguin was genuinely turning a new leaf. Instead he gets thrown into jail and it’s kind of fucked up in the way comics are and after Jason’s death he along with several other rogues end up taking a level in depravity and competence. So we could honestly have this be Penguin’s “Then Let Me Be Evil” point. We could have him be both a reason why Bruce hangs so hard onto redemption (because he didn’t believe someone before and they came out worse) but also as a symbol to Jason about how the system doesn’t work and was never designed to work. Because Penguin came out worse and for a long time basically flaunts the fact that he’s a criminal with a thin veneer of legality that works because of his money.

And with Harvey, well. Harvey is Bruce’s friend. A very close friend that Bruce should remember every time they are clashing. Bruce remembers Harvey Dent the district attorney. He remembers a good person. Not only that but Harvey’s been pretty consistent in the fact that he very much needs help. He’s had a couple of arcs across different media where he is ‘cured’ (which is its own can of worms)  and how in the end it didn’t matter because he became Two-Face again. And this should infuriate Jason because Harvey murdered Willis. Harvey is one of the reasons Jason’s life sucked so much! Without Willis he and Catherine didn’t have enough money to survive! Even if Jason didn’t like Willis or if the abuse retcons stick, he knows that without Willis they couldn’t survive. And Harvey had him killed! Harvey should be Bruce’s longshot, the man Bruce never gives up on, and he should be a symbol of Bruce’s selfishness to Jason because how many people ended up the same as him because of Harvey.

(Side Note: I love how when Jason says “Only him” referring to the Joker, he brings up Harvey who caused a lot of grief, Penguin who got worse in the system, and Crane who doesn’t even see people as people. Like these guys are obviously not good and Jason’s like, “Not even these horrible people causing suffering, just the clown.”)

On the other side I want to see Jason interact with Killer Croc and Ivy as well. 

Croc’s one of those characters who’s actually been treated pretty nicely after flashpoint and while that is wild it could also be used. We know he has chilled out since his debut (though is he still a cannibal? I’m really not sure). He’s canonically Roy’s AA sponsor (which again, wild as shit. But even with how Roy’s been handled I love the idea that he was at such a low point he was trying to commit “Suicide by Croc” which honestly feels like something vigilantes do (continue to fight with little care to themselves and hope someone takes them out in a way they’d still be viewed as a hero for)). He has been drafted into the Suicide Squad (which again, another way to show that the system doesn’t work because good lord is Task Force X so many human right violations [but also something I can see the actual U.S. government doing]). So he’s killed a ton of people but he’s also pretty much “Out of my territory and you’re fine”, saved someone close to Jason, and generally not in Jason’s way. Like how would Croc file into Jason’s morality? Does it even matter? 

And with Ivy, well... She’s right. Corporations are absolutely destroying the planet, and if anything Gotham’s like one of the worst at it considering all the weird chemicals and shit. Like the way Ivy goes about it is both wrong and absurdly incompetent, but she has the right idea. No Man’s Land has been retconned but the event was kind of Ivy’s first steps into anti-villain as far as I’m aware of (until Harley Quinn exploded in popularity and just absorbed her into her sphere). How does Jason act with someone who does bad shit but if reigned back a little, would cause way more good than bad in the long run. Or does he only care about the ‘right now’?

Uhhh, this was really long and consists of mostly word vomit but tldr; Jason should interact with the rogues besides the clowns and everyone adjacent to them because they either tie into his morals or history and that’d be cool.

#Man this is a mess #I didn't expect to just word vomit everything I just wanted to see more Harvey-Jason content and remembered about Penguin and Black Mask #And then I thought about Croc and Ivy #He'd probably have an interesting relationship with Freeze too I think because of the whole 'Sacrificing everything I am for them' thing #What rogue/hero interactions that we don't see/don't see enough do you think would be cool #Except for the clowns. I'm sick of them #Jason Todd #Roman Sionis #Harvey Dent #Oswald Cobblepot #Pamela Isley #Waylon Jones #Don't 'uhm actually' me I will. not. care.

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (1 of 24?)

AO3 link Summary: After eight months spent separated from his daughter, trying every potential cure imaginable, Killian's heart is still poisoned and burdened with his every failure. An alleged cure leads him into an ambush and a grueling detour he did not plan on taking. Unlikely new allies offer a small glimmer of hope, but will it be worth all of the trouble in the end?

Chapter 1 notes: I've been working on this on and off (mostly off) for the past four years. Apparently pandemics turn me off of fiction for whatever reason? But I made a few breakthroughs earlier this year and finally believe I'll be able to finish this one! It's a little strange, but it is the wish realm after all ;) The first couple of scenes and cure idea are based on a dream I had, and later scenes were inspired by a segment of the TV show "What on Earth," where they featured a particular location and basically described it as a whumper's paradise XD I'll reveal the location in a note later on, once it becomes relevant. No sexual whump in this story, but plenty of emotional and physical pain for Killian, and healing methods appropriate to the time period, for the most part haha. Enjoy!

*****

No reasonable person would classify this as bread anymore, or anything even resembling it. Killian Jones would have brushed the whole quest off as a lost cause, except for the fact that the ceremonial cloth was exactly as described: woven, dyed, embroidered with specific patterns and symbols, and folded neatly. Or had been, until he had dug it up and peeled it open. In the early morning light, the contents of the cloth resting on his open palm looked like nothing more than a handful of powdery, gray dirt, or perhaps a rare variety of fine-grained sand he had once encountered on his travels. Grateful that very little breeze disturbed the dawn air, Killian gave the powder a dubious look as he carefully nudged it with the tip of his hook. This?! 

He felt rather foolish for having expected anything else, but in his defense, the witch doctor had called it ‘bread.’ Multiple times. 'Bread,' not 'decomposed spores of mold mixed with decades-old dust and grit.' How in blazes could this swill contain any magical properties whatsoever?

Perhaps he should expend the effort to search for another of this particular architect's buildings, one that was slightly newer. Allegedly, the designer in question performed the same ritual upon completion of every dwelling with which he had been involved. A blessing prayed over traditional flatbread, later buried against the south-facing foundation, would, according to this man's system of beliefs, bestow health and happiness on its occupants. And if consumed, its remnants could supposedly cure any ailment... including a poisoned heart.

That was all assuming that the local witch doctor could be trusted. And Killian had felt doubt about that even before digging up the handful of dusty crumbs he now sat examining. But he would try anything, no matter how unlikely, and eating dirt was hardly the worst thing he'd done in pursuit of a cure.

Hardtack in any variety was a challenge to swallow on its own; this powder would likely be doubly so. Good thing he'd come prepared... or had he? Killian laid the cloth on the ground by his knee, moving with extra caution, as if it held a gram of the world's most valuable spice instead of worm dung. Then he dug his flask from its pocket and gave it a shake. The damn thing tended to run on the empty side these days, for some reason. But no, from the sound and heft of it, it contained plenty of cheap liquor to do the deed.

As he popped the cork with an easy, practiced motion, Killian thought briefly of the mirror tucked away in an inside pocket. It would be significantly more fun if Alice could watch and laugh at the disgusted faces he would surely be making in the near future. And of course, he would put on a show for her, exaggerating his expressions in hopes of drawing out that sparkling grin which was becoming more and more endangered a sight within the confines of the beechwood-framed oval of reflective glass. But at this hour of the day, she would be tucked away, safe and sound in the bed he’d planned on enlarging soon, under blankets that probably needed patching, dressed in a nightgown too short for her blossoming figure…

He hoped she was there, at any rate. Listening to her body's needs and the common sense he'd attempted to instill in her, not reading half the night by the fire, which seemed to be her preference in situations lacking supervision. Not pacing, unable to quell her nightmares on her own, dealing with the same doubts keeping him awake most nights, forced to face a horrific reality that no one deserved, much less an innocent of her young age.

No. Alice was happily asleep right now, enjoying wonderful dream-adventures with the characters in her books that she loved so much, and it would be irresponsible of him to wake her for such a frivolous thing, no matter how desperately he longed to see her with every pulse of blood through his veins. Besides, though the dwelling beside him appeared unoccupied, he was technically trespassing. Probably stealing as well, so silence was the preferred soundtrack to this far-fetched hope.

Killian gathered a pinch of powdery grit and shoved it into his mouth, licking his fingers clean as bitter dust stuck to the roof of his mouth. A flavor faintly reminiscent of rancid goat's milk flooded his sinuses, and if there was magic there, he couldn't feel it.

As a young sailor, Killian had not always been fortunate enough to have anything other than filthy water with which to attempt to wash down the taste of moldering rations. He reflected upon this as he took a swig from his flask, then drizzled a measure of alcohol out upon the waiting breadcrumbs. A nasty paste would be easier to manage than fingerfuls of powder, and he feared the risk of losing the reported curative benefits if he missed any of the residue.

As he continued to choke down the supposed cure, Killian allowed himself to imagine their reunion and a sampling of the scenes that would take place.

They had 1 birthday and 262 unbirthdays to celebrate. Hugs to catch up on--those were harder to calculate, but must be well over 3000 by now. In between, he would share the properly embellished tale of how he’d achieved a cure for his heart, and gladly listen to plentiful imaginary exploits Alice had concocted to pass the time. And neither of them would ever again complain about their life trapped in the tower, because now they both knew how much worse it could get.

As a swig of burning liquid chased another mouthful of grainy mold dust, the distant rumble of hoofbeats drifted in from the direction of the road. Killian hunched closer to the building’s foundation, checking to be sure that no light source glinted off his hook, attracting attention. The road lay on the opposite side of the building from where he crouched, so in all likelihood, the approaching riders would travel past before noticing any hint of his presence.

But then a shiver of foreboding climbed his spine: the horses were slowing. Killian hastily shoved the remainder of the paste into his mouth and crumpled the cloth into a pocket, gagging and rising to his feet just as heavy boots dropped to the ground at the dwelling's front entrance. In a desperate attempt to clear the clay now sticking to the roof of his mouth, he drained the flask of its remaining contents, all while sidling along the wall toward the back garden and cover.

“Fan out,” commanded a stern male voice from amidst the new arrivals, and more boots trod the unkempt property. Several pairs in his direction. Whoever these men were, whatever they sought, they would see a running man as a guilty party to be chased, captured by force, perhaps even fired upon should they have pistols in their possession. So Killian took a steadying breath, suppressed an urge to hack up the sandy liquor burning the back of his throat, and dropped to his knees on the hard ground. 

Gods, he had to stop doing things like that; he did not have the body of a 30-year-old anymore. Fortunately, unlike the now-aching joints in his legs and back, his mind had retained its ability to work quickly. Just as three armored soldiers rounded the corner, Killian dug hand and hook into the dirt, pulling great handfuls aside to support the cover story he’d just invented.

The soldiers spotted him immediately and advanced with swords drawn, one holding a lantern to counteract the misty gray of early morning. 

“Let's see those hands,” another called menacingly. Killian obeyed, sitting back on his haunches and rolling his head from side to side as if experiencing a stiff neck. He allowed them to see his empty hand and his hook as he flashed a disarming grin.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Bit of a nippy one, isn’t it? Suppose we're coming to the end of the fishing season once again.”

The soldiers continued forward through his rambling, none of them showing any sign of relaxing. As the hook became more visible in the lantern light, the men exchanged glances. Killian noticed but decided to ignore it and continue to play the hapless fool.

“Not one sign of a single bloody nightcrawler, either. Do you reckon it's too cold for them already?”

The trio had now formed a triangle around him, a cautious distance away with swords at the ready. The one holding the lantern turned his face in the direction from which they'd come and shouted,

“Commander! We have him.”

Killian let his puzzlement show; if he were not mistaken, it sounded as if they were looking specifically for him. But how could that be? No one knew where he was, except perhaps the witch doctor, but even she couldn't have known the exact dwelling he would select for the experiment.

Killian kept up the charade of innocence. “Is there something I can help you lads with?”

Lantern smirked as he watched his commander appear around the corner. "Just sit there and don't cause a fuss…. Captain Hook."

Killian snorted a polite laugh, hoping it disguised his worry. “Nice one. Not the first time I've heard it.” He kept a wary eye on the swaggering officer, adding, “Although would you believe it, not everyone is joking when they say it? Which is absurd, of course. Who in their right minds... I'd have to be, what, 300 years old or thereabouts?” He raised an incredulous eyebrow, grinning up at the men surrounding him as if expecting them to laugh along with him and agree that those people were idiots.

The commander stopped a few paces in front of the group, holding a second lantern, although it was becoming less necessary as sunrise approached. He did not bother to draw his sword.

“Surrender your weapons,” came the imperious command. Slowly, Killian reached down and withdrew the small, tarnished dagger that was his only method of self-defense these days, apart from his hook. He kept the non-threatening, slightly silly smile as he laid the weapon at the soldiers’ feet.

“Sorry to disappoint, mates, but I can assure you I'm not the man you're looking for. I lost my hand in a farming accident, not one crocodile scale to be seen.” He huffed a laugh and tried to look pitiable. 

The commander’s stony gaze remained unchanged. “Is the hook detachable?”

Killian unscrewed the steel from its locking mechanism but kept hold of it momentarily as he looked up at the officer.

“I do hope you’re planning to return it,” he grimaced. “It's quite useful for digging up earthworms.”

With an impatient eye roll, the commander snapped his fingers and pointed to where the dagger rested at his feet. Reluctantly, Killian tossed the hook to join the other weapon. The officer nodded at an underling, who bent to take possession of both items.

“You can drop the charade. It will get you nowhere. Regardless of your identity as the Captain Hook of legend or merely a successor to the title, you are wanted for questioning concerning an illegal duel that took place some months back.”

Killian felt a shudder of fear rattle his insides; he'd hoped the matter would have blown over by now. 

“Preposterous,” he scoffed. “Do I look like the sort of fellow who would take part in something so unsavory?”

“The other party has been apprehended and is more than willing to identify you in person.” The man sneered. Then he addressed the second lantern-bearer. “Get him to his feet and search him for concealed weapons.”

Killian was gripped by the armpits and hauled up, shoulders and back protesting the harsh treatment. He knew that further lies wouldn't help at this point; neither would attempts to plead his case. So he kept quiet as rough hands patted him down and searched his pockets. They found his flask--"Bit early for this, isn't it?" taunted one, to which he replied tightly, "What's the old saying? It isn't early if you've never stopped?"--his treasured black rook, and the mirror.

The soldier who had found the mirror, who couldn't have been much more than sixteen, held it up with a leer.

“What's this for? An old man like you can't have a great deal to be vain about.”

Killian didn't want to attach too much importance to the item, for that would increase the temptation to destroy it out of spite. So he shrugged and explained,

“Just an old heirloom. Sentimental value only.”

The boy stashed it with the rest of Killian's confiscated belongings, and though he wasn't particularly careful, the glass seemed to remain intact. Killian could feel his heart pounding and cursed the fact that his one remaining link with Alice had to be so fragile.

“That appears to be all, sir.”

“Very good, soldier.” Their commander stood impassive, adding, “Now, as we discussed…”

Behind Killian came a brief clanking of armor. But before he even had the chance to guess at its meaning, the noise was drowned out by a resounding crack that rattled his teeth in their sockets, an explosion of colorful starbursts behind his eyes, a single heartbeat of crushing pain, and then a dizzying drop into black silence.

#ouat fanfiction #laden of the torn #wish hook #alice jones #knightrook #whump #angst #ambush #captured #head injury #eating mold #poisoned heart #canon compliant #for the most part #mirror magic might work a little bit differently in this wish realm than in the show #don't know don't care :P

[darkhangels]

19. one more time

enjoy the silence masterlist

morpheus x f!reader

words: 5815

warnings: swearing

Morpheus had somewhat felt you enter his realm every night, they may have been extremely late and often short visits, but he could still feel you. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, something he was entirely disapproving of and wanted nothing more than to scold you about. He tried not to take notice of your arrival and departures in and out of his realm but it was impossible, he was the dreaming after all and could sense every being there, especially you.

So when he didn’t feel you enter his realm the first night he simply decided to shrug it off as best as he could. But then he couldn’t sense you the night after, or the night after that. Eventually two weeks passed, with no visits to the dreaming and he was particularly irritated. Why were you avoiding sleep? You knew better than to deprive yourself of basic human necessities. Still he cast the thoughts out, it didn’t matter anymore. You were supposed to be just another mortal to him, nothing more.

Despite him knowing this it didn't change the fact that it bothered him quite a bit, more than a bit. But all he could do was tense his jaw and brood, only hoping you would come to your senses rather soon.

Morpheus found him thinking about you more and more as the time since your goodbye went on and on. After the first night he hadn’t even allowed your name to come into his thoughts. Instead he distracted himself with his duties.

At least he was being attentive to the realm, Matthew told Lucienne, and Lucienne gave him a weak smile. In truth she worried for her Lord, so did Matthew. And they missed you, they missed you dearly.

Eventually you did worm your way into his mind, of course you would. Every time he felt your presence in the dreaming it was a painful jab to the heart, a reminder of what he could never have.

It will pass, he told himself.

It will pass and you will be no more than a mere memory to him, and he could continue with his existence the way he had before he met you. Before you so carelessly wound your way into thoughts, his soul, his very being.

It will pass and in time he would not ever feel you come to the dreaming again. The thoughts set a harsh lump in the back of his throat. Yes, the pain he truthfully felt whenever you entered his realm when he was unable to see you was hard to bear, but it would be so much worse when he eventually would not feel you any longer. In a mere amount of decades, when a lifetime had passed and his sister would come for you, would he grieve? Would he still love, would he still care?

He wished not, he dearly wished not.

And so he told himself yet again, it will pass, it always does.

Doesn’t it?

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

It had been a week of nightmares and you were at your tether. Despite the terror that seized your heart you had the upper hand of knowing exactly what was causing the nightmares this time. So, the mare was back, that frightened you to your very core, knowing it was lurking in your apartment waiting for you to fall asleep so it could prey on your mind.

Still despite the fear you were not going to just sit back and take it like last time. You had to take a stand

After the first night you considered the options you had. Try and cast it out yourself, get an exorcist, try a witch.

All three didn’t seem entirely too enjoyable, but nor was being plagued with nightmares every time you so much as thought about sleep for the rest of your life.

Of course, a certain someone's voice was echoing in your ears.

Morpheus’ voice croaked seemingly out of nowhere. “If the nightmares ever start again, you come straight to me” He hoarsely whispered.

Your forehead creased in confusion as you looked back up at him. His face was etched deep in something. “I will,” You nodded.

His eyes flew down to yours, gleaming like stars only for a second before returning to the icey blue. “Swear it”

You were taken aback by his sincerity and you swallowed slightly as your lips parted taking in his face. “I swear it” You softly answered.

You had sworn it, under the intense gaze of your lover, laying in the King of Dreams’ bed, you had sworn it.

But that was then and this was now.

Even if you did want to, knowing all the damage and destruction it would’ve brought, you would have no way of getting to him, the necklace no longer worked after all and he had told you only powerful beings could just dream themselves into the heart of the dreaming. And you were not that.

No, no Morpheus. It was up to you now.

You set out to do your research. You were more mindful than last time of course, you most certainly did not go back to that bookshop. Instead you took to Google, looking for ways to get rid of mares.

When Morpheus had gotten rid of them the first time all he had really done was recited some Latin, something you could’ve easily done yourself if you had just known what it was he had said.

Wikipedia suggested drinking coffee before sleep, which was great because it meant you didn’t fall asleep but when you eventually did have to succumb to slumber, the nightmares were still there. Then it suggested sleeping with leather, that did nothing. Nor did inviting the mare to breakfast (that was a strange one, but honestly not a lot shocked you anymore), or leaving a bundle of hay in your bed and sleeping on your sofa instead (the hay stayed in your bed for a good couple of days after that, making sleep all the more worse)

You even started to recite a prayer to god.

None of it worked.

And an irritating wave of Deja-vu hit you.

How, nearly seven months later, when so much had changed in that time, were you nearly at the exact same place in which you started?

You had been so naïve then.

Knew nothing of the world you knew of today.

Which meant that if you from then could’ve done it, without the knowledge you had now then so could you.

Of course then you had Morpheus but that was no longer an option.

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

So you set out to find an exorcist. Finding one that seemed actually legit was difficult. You had scoured the internet for a while before deciding to go old school and pay a visit to the local church instead.

It was one of those moments that caused you to think about all the things in your life that had led you to this very moment right there as you walked through the dimly lit church, candles lit and hymns softly playing in the background.

You had asked a kind clergy worker if they knew anyone who could perform an exorcism or banishment on demons. Of course he had stared at you with wide eyes before rushing you into one of the backrooms, introducing you to a frail man, in his early seventies at the least.

He was called Father Harry and when you told him about the mare he seemed somewhat familiar with the demons and knew the Latin to get rid of them. His gaze bored into you and you found yourself fidgeting and gulping under his intense, narrowed eyes. He had those eyes, the ones where you just know he’d seen things you wouldn’t believe, well you supposed you would believe it now. After all you believed in demons, you had seen one with your own eyes after all. Its face haunting you everywhere you went. Particularly now, now that you knew it was back.

Which raised an entirely important question of why and how had it returned?

Morpheus had insisted the nightmares would not come back, and insisted that the mare was definitely gone. But he never stated how he knew that exactly, nor did he say if there were any other stray mares ready and awaiting to feast on you or the rest of humanity’s vulnerable mind. And he wouldn’t have lied to you, surely not.

You thanked the father repeatedly as you led him into your apartment the next day and into your bedroom, he walked around for a while, eyes surveying the environment. You only grew anxious by the second when he didn’t say a single thing for the longest time.

“Is something the matter?” You asked, trying to not let your voice expose your fear.

He stopped in his tracks and sighed, in one swift notion he took off his glasses and turned to you apprehensively. “I’m feeling nothing”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Pardon?”

He licked his lips coming closer. “I cannot sense a mare”

“But trust me this has to be the cause, I dealt with it a couple of months ago and my friend banished them and just like that the nightmares went away” You stuttered, lips parting in confusion.

The man stood in front of you, nodding. “I believe you, but I do not sense a single malicious spirit near you or this home”

Your forehead creased in confusion, eyes darting to the floor as disappointment crawled into your heart.

The man studied you again, before rubbing his eyes. “I will perform the banishment for you still, but I can’t say for sure it will get rid of your nightmares” Your face somewhat lit up in at least a semblance of hope as you thanked him again, a weak smile stretching on your lips.

He surveyed you with a critical eye. “But if you want my opinion? Whoever your friend was, who got rid of them last time, you should enlist their help”

Your smile faltered. “Not an option, I’m afraid” You swallowed harshly before looking up at him. “All I’ve got is me”

He peered at you contemplatively before nodding, a pitying smile pulling on his thin lips.

He performed the banishment ritual. But that night you still dreamt of a raven, a sacrifice and a death.

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

Next and last on the (very short) list was a witch. You had never believed in witches before but after meeting demons, dreams and an endless, witches were suddenly a very real and very believable notion to you. It wasn’t particularly hard to find a respectable practitioner online with extremely good reviews, named Tara. When you messaged her about the mares she said she had never been in close contact with one but would be happy to help you out.

A few days later she came to your apartment and upon first glance she was extremely interested in, you.

It started when you had led her to your bedroom and immediately her focus was drawn not on the environment, but instead your anxious figure waiting in the doorway. She studied you with beady eyes making you fidget uncomfortably. “Is everything okay?” You nervously chuckled.

Her eyes were still narrowed in concentration. “Yes, I’m sorry for staring it’s just, you have an extremely interesting aura”

“Aura?” You responded in disbelief. Here we go.

Tara shook herself out of her trance. “Sorry, It's just you feel so-”

“So?” You urged, growing slightly impatient.

“So different” She stepped closer. “This is going to sound crazy but sometimes I can just get a sense about where people are going in life, and you?” She laughed, in disbelief. “You are very important to something ”

You smirked in amusement. “Important?”

“Incredibly so”

You nodded slowly, mindlessly though extremely confused.

She shook her head again. “I’m sorry, I’ve weirded you out haven’t I?”

“No, actually yes but trust me, it’s welcome” You huffed. “I’ve been weirded out by a lot of stuff”

Tara furrowed her eyebrows before realisation seeped into her facial expression. "Of course, that’s why you feel different” A faint smile played on her lips. “You know more than you’re letting on”

Your forehead creased. “More than I’m letting on?”

“About what’s out there” She jerked her head to your window.

‘Out there’ being the world, the universe.

You bit your lip, unsure how much you should have said. “I know some things about the universe, yes”

She nodded, giving you a knowing smirk. “Makes sense”

She turned back around looking back at the rest of your room and you let out a breath of air, maybe this woman really was crazy? Or maybe you were Important. The notion was ridiculous, I mean yes of course you were important, wasn’t everyone? Important to select individuals, maybe that's what she meant, nothing more.

You watched curiously as the woman walked around your room. “What’s this?” She asked, creeping over to your bed, as she slowly started to pull out a long black coat.

You instantly rushed to her side. “Please, be careful with it”

She gave you a trusting glance as she handed it to you, you took Morpheus’ coat in your hands and stroked the fabric. “It belonged to someone important to you” She gently stated.

Your eyes snatched up to hers. “How did you know that?”

“I just get a sense” She shrugged, an amused smirk on her lips as she repeated her earlier words.

You searched her eyes and let your guard down only by a bit as you stared at the coat in your arms, thumb brushing against the soft fabric. “Despite it all I like to believe it helps me sleep better”

Tara gave you an understanding smile, before turning her glance to the rest of the room

“Well, I’m sorry I hate to admit it but I think your exorcist was right, I’m not sensing anything strange either” She turned to you. “Whatever it is you’re dealing with its not a mare or any kind of demon”

You let out a frustrated sigh as you placed the coat back on the bed. Before dragging your hands down your face. “How is that possible?”

She shrugged. “I’m sorry, maybe your nightmares aren’t being supernaturally influenced this time”

You turned to scowl at her. “You think this is my mind doing this, purposefully giving me these nightmares?”

Tara let out a huff of air. “I don’t know, whatever it is it's clearly affecting you”

You narrowed your eyes, silently challenging her before she sighed. “Look, I know we just met and I’m completely out of line, but you look like you haven’t slept in years”

You let out a sharp laugh. Normally you might’ve been offended, but she was right after all. You were all too aware of the massive eye bags that had slumped around your eyes, making you look half dead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, you just assumed when you had started sleeping normally again they would eventually disappear. You had said that several months ago now though, before the nightmares came back.

You turned to her. “Yeah, I know, truth is I haven’t been sleeping well for months even before the nightmares started”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” She studied you for a second. “Maybe it's a force bigger than demons”

“Like who?” You exasperated.

“Someone more relevant to your issues” She responded.

You slowly blinked, your amusement fading away. “Like someone who controls sleep?” You tensed as your figure became slightly more rigid. “Someone who controls dreams?”

Her gaze was on your bed, on his coat before she looked back up at you carefully, eyes boring into you. “If such being exists then yes I would suggest they were the cause of your troubles or would at least know the cause of your troubles”

Your face faltered as you winced your eyes shut. You knew who would exactly give you your answers. But you had no way of getting to him.

And even if you could, if he still loved you the way you loved him, then you were putting Lorna at risk, and whilst you may be not on the best terms with her, you still loved her and could not lose her, or Veronica or anyone else important in your life.

But then again who's to say he still loved you? It had been four months, meaning you two had been further apart than you had ever even known each other. Maybe his feelings had slowly dissipated the way you had hoped yours had. And whilst the thought hurt like hell, maybe just maybe it was true.

There was only one way to find out.

You could’ve just given up, resign yourself to the clutches of insanity. But no. You wanted more for yourself than that. Despite all the pain you had endured you still wanted to live somewhat of a life, and you couldn’t do that with the nightmares terrorizing and traumatising you every night.

But how were you even supposed to get to Morpheus when the necklace no longer worked and-

Oh.

The book.

You never got rid of the book, nor did Morpheus take it. It was still sitting on your bookshelf collecting dust. If you did the ritual again, ask for an audience, it would take you straight to the throne room.

But was it worth it? Was it worth the risk?

And not just Lorna.

But was it worth the risk of seeing him again, was it worth the risk of knowing if he still loved you? And all the pain it would inevitably cause you when you would leave him again.

You thought back to your nightmares, waking up every night, every morning in a panicked haze, feeling the overbearing grief of losing whatever that raven is.

Universe and Morpheus be fucked you had to try.

“Fuck” You whispered to yourself, knowing you had your answer.

Tara slowly turned to her, eyebrows furrowed. “You okay?”

You peeled your eyes open, cursing yourself. “Do you do protection spells?”

Her forehead creased as she nodded. “I do”

You tiredly turned your gaze to her before you let out a shaky breath. “I have some people I need to know will be safe”

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

“So just again for me, Lorna Richards, Veronica Parker and your mother?” Tara said as she stood in your doorway, scribbling down the names on a piece of paper.

“Yes, that’s it” You nodded.

She looked up at you and nodded, “I’ll do them this afternoon and text you when they have been casted.”

You licked your lips. “And how powerful are the spells?”

“They will be protected against any witchcraft, supernatural creature or powers”

You looked up at her cautiously. “What about the universe?”

She raised her eyebrows. “The universe?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “Yeah, well you know, the universe likes to take action sometimes”

Tara stared at you, her expression unreadable, before she sighed. “I can’t say for sure they will be protected from that, but what I can do is do some divination work and let you know if they are in danger, before you do whatever it is you’re going to do”

“You would?” You asked, eyes snapping up to hers.

She softly smiled at you before nodding. Without thinking about it you enveloped her in a hug, she was taken aback for a second before she wrapped her arms around you. You shut your eyes, grasping onto her and you soon realised that Lorna, Veronica and your mother may soon be protected, but you weren’t.

There was no promise that the universe wouldn’t take action against you instead this time. And if Lorna had been a warning. Then whatever it would do to you, would be the final judgement, the final punishment.

You winced your eyes shut, fear clutching at your breath.

But it had to have been worth it, right?

You had taken the gamble before, on a brisk October night staring at the large book pondering whether the ritual was worth it or not.

And well, if the universe truly didn’t want you doing this, it would have never given you the option to go to Morpheus, just for one last time.

It was it’s own fault, really.

You pulled away from her and awkwardly laughed. “Sorry, I really needed that”

“Not to worry” She gave you a kind smile “I’ll keep you updated”

You nodded as you waved goodbye as she disappeared out of your sight.

You shut your door and the bang echoed in your ears as nausea crept up your throat. She had given you so much to think about, and yet, your mind seemed to focus on one thing, Morpheus.

If there truly was no mare. Then the only other cause would have been him .

Was it him, causing the nightmares this time?

Was he punishing you?

He wouldn’t.

Surely not?

One thing for sure despite your still ever growing love for him, if it was him who was causing them. You would not be going down without a fight.

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

Whilst you waited with anxious breath for Tara to arrive home and do her bits you decided to instead wait around the apartment you would go for a walk.

After all, if you were going to do the ritual, you were going to need a feather.

Since it had started to get lighter in the evenings, it allowed the sun to beam longer in the sky meaning the twilight lasted longer. The air felt refreshing against your tense body as you stumbled past the trees that were growing evergreen and getting ready to bloom for summer as it was just around the corner.

How fast the seasons had come and gone.

Each season bled into one another, passing by silently as the year turned every corner.

Autumn and Winter felt like a lifetime ago, the memory entirely unreal. And you hated to admit that those months were starting to become hazy and you soon found it harder and harder to picture Morpheus’ face. Of course, you hadn’t forgotten yet. It just took you a while sometimes.

Had he remembered your face?

You cast the thoughts out as you walked along the path.

You couldn’t help the anxious nausea that crept up your body.

If you were to do the ritual, there was a good chance you may not ever return back to life. The universe may in fact kill you right there and then. Tears bit at your eyes, you didn’t want to die. Obviously, you didn’t want to die. But living in this constant state of paranoia wasn’t much living either.

You had faith in yourself and despite everything it had put you through, you did have faith in the universe.

Still, you had to take precautions. You would write a couple of letters. Just in case. To Lorna, To Veronica and to your mother.

Just to say goodbye.

God, it was so dramatic but it was the absolute worst case scenario.

You knew that there was a chance nothing would happen, which would mean Morpheus did not love you anymore.

But maybe that was for the best after all. Maybe that would be the closure that would help you finally move on, still a harsh lump in the back of your throat made your eyes sting at the thoughts.

The sound of your phone ringing caught you off guard.

“Hello?”

“It’s done, your friends and your mum are protected”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank you so much, Tara”

“It’s my honour” Tara beamed through the phone.

“So how long should the spell last?”

“It's very dependent on how much something wants to harm them, but I’d say, two weeks”

You nodded, at least that gave you time to think this over, not having to rush into anything. “Okay good, two weeks, again thank you so much”

“No problem but listen I did the divination” Tara started after hesitating for a while.

“And?” You urged, breath caught in your throat.

“Well, it seems as though your friends and your mother will be okay-”

You winced your eyes shut, an immense amount of pressure lifting from your body. “Oh thank the heavens above”

“Wait, there’s more,” She said quietly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your gaze to the sky as it was casted in red and orange hues. “Go on”

“I know you didn’t ask but, I pulled three tarot cards for you and I think you may want to hear what they had to say”

“Tarot?”

“You familiar?” She asked.

“No, not really” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to explain what the cards mean to me”

“Of course,” Tara responded. “But before that I just wanted to say that, my readings are up for interpretation and if you don’t resonate with them then that’s totally fine”

You noticed her apprehensive tone and instantly dread grew in the pit of your stomach. “Why, is it bad?” You licked your lips.

There was more hesitation.

“Tara?” You asked, amusement far gone.

“Well it’s certainly something” She chuckled humourlessly.

“Go on” You urged.

There was a sigh before she started to speak. “First card I pulled was the tower, the tower represents sudden upheaval, in other words disaster”

You gulped, palms suddenly becoming sweaty. “Ok, got it disaster, what then?”

“Next was the hanged man”

“Hanged man?”

“Hanged man represents sacrifice and martyrdom” She continued.

A sacrifice.

You felt a harsh ringing in your ear.

You swallowed, voice no more than a whisper. “And the last?”

Silence.

“Tara?”

You heard a deep sigh. “Just before I tell you and you jump to conclusions, let me explain”

“Just what is it?” You exasperated, anticipation and nausea clawing at your throat.

“Death”

A death.

A chill crept down your spine.

“Death hardly ever means you are going to actually die, it simply means a cycle is ending and a new one is beginning, I would argue that it’s a very positive card”

You gulped, mind becoming fuzzy. “Ok, Tara, but where does all this fit in with me and my life?”

It was silent for a while before she answered. “It’s all very much based on your intuition like I said if it doesn’t resonate then just leave it”

Oh it resonated alright. It resonated big time.

“So you can’t be more detailed about it?” You asked, rubbing your tired eyes with your hands. “Can’t tell me what exactly this disaster is going to be?”

“I’ve tried but..” She trailed off.

“But what?”

She hesitated for a while. “It's a strange sensation that I’ve never felt before, It’s like somethings blocking me from knowing, from seeing your future”

You let out a humourless, tired laugh. “Look, Tara, I’m not trying to doubt your abilities but you have to see this from my point of view”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry but trust me my intuition is telling me this is right, I just can’t seem to pinpoint what this is about specifically”

Disaster, sacrifice, death.

If your friends and your mum were protected.

And let's say that you were protected too then, the only other person to worry about would be… him.

You swallowed harshly. “But this is definitely about me, no one else right, no one else in my life?”

She scoffed then. “Oh yeah, it’s got your interesting aura all over it”

You nodded trying to take everything in. “Okay, thank you Tara, listen when I get home I’ll send you the money I owe you for the spells and readings”

“Actually hon, I did the readings for free, they are my gift to you”

You went to thank her profusely and tell her that wasn’t necessary until…you remembered the last time a stranger had been so kind to you.

The keeper stored all of your books into a paper bag.

"How much do I owe you?" You smile at the man as you reach for the purse in your pocket.

"Thirty" He responded.

"Thirty? for all this?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"I like to throw in a discount for customers who I like," He gave a cheeky smile.

It was when the keeper of the bookstore who wasn’t actually the keeper of the bookstore gave you a book forged in the flames of hellfire. Of course, there is still no reason as to why the demons had done that. Did Morpheus even ever ask Lucifer about it? But you had no doubt it was with malicious intent, a great big scheme to mess up Morpheus’ realm, you had just been the unlucky soul to have walked into it.

You swallowed. “Thank you, Tara, goodbye” Before hanging up the phone.

With a frustrated growl you threw your phone into your pocket. You wanted to believe everything Tara had said but still your trust was indefinitely wavering after remembering that this could simply be another demon trying to mess with you.

And of course if Tara could be a demon then so could the exorcist. Maybe the mare was actually back; they just wanted you to believe it was Morpheus. The conflict in your mind brought you no closer to a resolve as you ran a frustrated hand through your hair letting out another growl.

It was such a fucking mess.

And you found yourself agitated that you had ever been caught up in whatever game this was in the first place. The mares, Lucifer and Morpheus, all of it.

God, maybe your life might’ve been better if you had just never met him.

There were too many ‘What if’s?’ to the whole situation and you felt a headache coming on as tears bit at your eyes, you threw your head up to the sky casting a gaze on the darkening sky

“Please universe, whatever power you are, if you wish to rule my life so much then please tell me what to do now”

You weren’t expecting an answer though you had surely hoped for one, you didn’t truly believe someone or something was listening to you. That was of course until the park you had been walking in seemed to grow silent and a soft rustle of wind brought a thick, black feather to your feet.

With furrowed eyebrows you bent down to pick it up so you could inspect it further. It was an extremely large feather, a rich midnight silk black. A raven’s feather.

You narrowed your eyes.

Something had answered you.

It was a clear as day answer.

“Fuck it” You sighed, again, wincing your eyes shut as you tiredly rubbed at them.

You looked back down at the feather in your grip and your heart skipped a beat.

You were going to see him again.

You were going to see Morpheus.

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

After the day with Tara you decided to wait yet another week before doing the ritual.

You gave the nightmares one last chance to disappear before that was it. Of course, they did not leave, nor did they change or become any easier.

And so that is why you found yourself on a Friday night sat on the edge of your bed, staring and gripping onto the feather for the last hour, anxiety churning in your stomach. Three letters sat on top of your dining table addressed to Lorna, Veronica and Your Mother. Just in case of the worst.

It would be one time. You decided. One visit. You would simply ask him if it had been him giving you the nightmares. If he says yes, you would give him a piece of your mind which would inevitably end up in more nightmares for you. If he says no, you would say thank you and goodbye. How hard could it be?

But still. Even without the impending doom that might be heading your way from the universe. Were you ready to see him?

I mean you were exes now.

It would be awkward. And painful.

And you knew all too well how scary Morpheus could be had you got on the wrong side of him.

But no. You had faith in him. All those nights, touches and words shared he would not cast you out the second you appeared in his throne room.

Still that didn’t mean he would still love you.

And knowing he didn’t love you anymore would crush you. But this wasn’t about you and him anymore. It was about you figuring out how to get rid of these nightmares, going right back to square one.

With jittery legs you walked over to where the thick red book laid on top of your bookshelf, collecting dust. Slowly your arms reached out, and pulled it off of the fine wooden surface. Your eyes swept over the golden words on the scarlet material. Harshly you swallowed as your thumb gently stroked the cover. ‘Crafted in the very depths of hellfire’

You bit the inside of your cheek as you brought it back to your room. Cracking it open at the same page that was dog tagged. With the ritual inscribed at the bottom.

Shaking your head and letting out a shuddering breath as you felt the nausea grow, you grabbed the feather, your head growing fuzzy as you started to read the words.

“I stand here among the waking world seeking an audience with the God Of Dreams, Prince of Stories, Third child of the endless. I stand here in utter devotion and in utter desperation invoking The King Of Dreams. Speak to me now in tongues of Dreams and Nightmares alike. Let me into your realm and you into mine. Speak to me, Dream of the Endless. Speak to me, Lord Morpheus!”

You gulped, tears piercing at your eyes. “Please Morpheus, hear my call” You whispered after the words were recited.

Slowly you put the book back, setting the feather down trudging to your bathroom to get ready to sleep. You started to feel slightly self conscious. Had you changed since the last time you had seen him? Apart from the shrunken in and heavy eyebags, had your hair grown longer?

Anxiously you climbed into bed half of you praying the ritual had worked. The other half hoped it hadn’t so you wouldn’t have to see him and be hit with the overbearing pain all over again.

Before you could be weighed down with anymore treacherous thoughts, your eyelids fluttered shut as you succumbed to sleep.

#morpheus #morpheus x you #morpheus imagine #morpheus fluff #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #the sandman x reader #sandman x you

[nogoawaytism]

Nitpick #Fuck it why would I start counting now.

I've seen a couple of similar nitpicks to this topic, just wanted to toss in my two cents.

RWBY's worldbuilding in the area of familial relationships kinda sucks ngl. I'm not really talking about situations like the Schnee family's conflict, or the whole conflict Raven has with Yang and Qrow, since both of those topics are their own cans of worms. Today I'm specifically focusing on the chemistry of families who are presented in a positive light in the show.

The Xiao-Long Rose family is presented as a very caring family. Taiyang specifically as the good dad, and Yang as the good big sister. Both of them are characterized as overprotective. Except. That doesn't match what we've been shown? Yang told Blake that when Summer died, Tai fell into a depression to the point in which he neglected the girls. I'm not going to say it's bad that Taiyang struggled with depression to the point that he had trouble keeping up with his young growing daughters. In fact, I wish this was explored a little more. Losing a spouse is traumatic, especially when your previous spouse isn't around to help with custody. Very human reaction. In the first few volumes, Ruby and Yang mention their dad at least a few times, and keep regular contact with him. However, after we have a whole volume of Tai helping Yang recover, he's just... not mentioned again? I mean, Raven brought him up likely to mess with Yang, and he was shown at the broadcast, visibly upset that his kids are dealing with the end of the world. But he's not a part of the plot unless it's for family drama. Showing Ruby and Yang writing getting letters from him, or talking on video calls with Tai would help make these plotpoints feel less disconnected, and him keeping up with the girls would SHOW that he's a good protective father instead of just telling us. What he doing now anyway? Restoring Beacon? Still teaching students? We don't know.

The Belladonnas have been presented as good parents. Except. They exposed their daughter to violent protests (why??), and when she decided to run off and commit terrorism, they just... let her? Okay Crwby. Not to mention their weird-ass version of pacifism that isn't realistic at all. Why doesn't Blake exchange letters or have video calls with her parents? I'm sure they can squeeze in the time in between all the tea drinking they do. Wait, do they do anything else?

I also feel that a big part of Ozma's trauma is related to his family. But this is never brought up, and Ozma's trauma is invalidated so we can beat up a small child. Wow, I hate this show. Losing a child is a traumatic event. An abusive relationship is a traumatic event. In Ozma's case, he lost all four of his children to an abusive spouse. But, according to RWBY stans, that's his fault because *checks notes* man bad. Ozma has also had to live several different lives, through which undoubtedly he's suffered a variety of things, perhaps more abuse in some lives. He was shown to have at least one other wife besides Salem, and their two children. Oh yeah, those two kids have silver eyes, but I guess that doesn't matter. Ozma has had to outlive every person he's ever loved, which I'm quite sure makes for a rather depressing existence. Oh wait, I'm expecting MKEK to actually put in some thought regarding human relationships, and that's too hard I guess.

#rwde #my post

[augment-techs]

Ok here’s another one that’s been bugging me for a while so I’m gonna transfer the worm yo you:

“I wish you’d write a fic where Billy wants to learn to lay the piano and he gets Skull to teach him… ✨sparks fly✨ and also Skull realises Billy has a lovely voice and they do duets together now”

“Well,” Billy scuffed his toe down to the ground, half shy boy before a teacher he’d never had before in his entire life—too small and too smart for his own good—and part baby animal finding its feet in front of what might be a good friend or a predator, “I’m missing out on additions, secondary lessons that would allow my future to secure itself outside of high school. So, Miss Appleby suggested you?” “Liar.” Billy flinched, looking up from his foot to find Skull with his arms crossed, jacket still hung up on the rack to keep the length out of the way of the ivory and pitch keys of the majestic looking piano that Billy happened to know for a fact the school would not have been able to keep up the payments for if Skull himself didn’t maintain it with those long fingers, those careful eyes, the tools of the trade he’d gotten from Grid only knew where. His frame was still wiry, still pale, but Billy could appreciate that he did, in fact, carry a little bit more muscle than he did sixteen months ago. Nothing like running from Putties and Kaiju and curses to build up the heavy mass. (A little part of Billy’s brain was curious about how that was working out for Skull’s sylphlike legs, but he also knew he’d never find out, given that the young man hadn’t worn shorts in public since before his voice dropped.) He swiveled his eyes from hairless arms up to mercury eyes, eyebrows up and the lips that were thin with the serious aura he was giving off. Right. Eugene didn’t take bullshit about piano matters. Fibbing really wouldn’t work here. (--But he’d have to try.) Billy straightened his back with a cough and scratched the fluff at the back of his head, “I’m sure I don’t know how you’d come to that conclusion.” Skull leaned forward, hands to his knees—really subtle, but still a hit against Billy’s being a head shorter since Skull’s latest growth spurt (if he kept growing until he was twenty-one, Billy swore he’d walk into the ocean; this wasn’t fair)—until they were almost nose tip to nose tip. And he smirked that self-assured “I’ve got all the cards so don’t even bother” smirk that Billy very much was thankful did not make him look like his (rat bastard son of a bitch) father or (evil, self-serving, hellspawn) mother, but made him look more and more like the man he was going to be. If only he looked this assured in real life instead of in a room that at present felt closed off from the rest of reality as Skull prodded with amusement, “There is nothing in all the world that would keep teachers from this town from passing you onwards into the future with full honors and the deed to their souls if you asked. Even with you running around for the Youth Center and Promethea and whatever else it is that calls you out of class, you’re still head of the class—except English, because you’re more for numbers than language and literature—“ “How would you know that?” “I know lots of things; don’t interrupt,” Skull hummed, spinning on his heel to saunter back over to the piano’s bench, pulling it out and taking a seat with a cross of his legs and his hands folded at the knee, “You will pass regardless of extra-curricular classes or activities. I’m sure Miss Appleby did point you in my direction because she’s a sweetheart who would hang the moon if you asked her nicely; but it wasn’t because you’re lacking in class credits. So, what are you doing here?” “I…” “Hm?” “I need to learn a new skill.” “We’ve established that as the root of this whole sing-along, William; my hiccup is the why.” Billy ground his jaw and swayed his head back on his neck like a ghost of the boy Skull had been so familiar with for most of their younger lives. All fluffy yellow hair and glasses trying to hold on as his head bobbed back and his middle finger coming up to press the frames up along his nose.

#boom! comics power rangers #mmpr #Billy Cranston x Eugene Skull Skullovitch #GGPR #short version here; long version on AO3 #ask fill #prompt fill

[ragnarlothcat]

Reading nothing compares to you again and Obi-wan is just the loneliest, saddest boy in the entire WORLD 😭😭😭 just thinking about him standing there by himself outside the council chambers watching anakin walk away, each time he leaves anakin’s room in the temple or the fact he was so grateful to join anakin & ahsoka in their little investigation 🥺 I want to wrap him in a blanket!! He’s so sad and lonely!!

Awww yeah poor Obi-Wan is really going through it in that fic. Anakin says a series of hateful things and then a series of utterly bewildering things and Obi-Wan mostly just puts up with it (with some light snark because he is still Obi-Wan, after all).

If it makes you feel better at least Obi-Wan doesn't remember any of that? Although that opens up a whole different can of worms because: do your wrongs still matter if the day is erased? It's a question I felt extremely strongly about after watching Groundhog Day because from my perspective Bill Murray is a creep. Spoilers for a fic that I'm unlikely to finish before the heat death of the universe (sorry) but that will be coming up and whoever is still alive to read it will be subjected to my many opinions.

We don't have time loops in real life (to my knowledge, but maybe I've relived this day a thousand times and not noticed because some dick in Pennsylvania is busy learning basic human decency) but I was actually thinking about my fic and amnesia in general because I fell down a rabbit hole the other day reading about twilight sleep. Apparently it didn't make childbirth painless, it just made the patients forget the pain they experienced and that's such an interesting distinction because those people did suffer! Idk where I'm going with this but I have a lot of thoughts and I wish I'd taken a philosophy class or two in university because I bet this would've come up (also because I'm writing a fic that involves a philosophy class--in service of a bad joke--and it would make my life a lot easier if I didn't have to keep googling syllabuses).

Circling back to your point: Obi-Wan is indeed the saddest boy! He just wants Anakin and Ahsoka to treat him normally again but instead Ahsoka is (reasonably) cautious and Anakin is having a time loop-based meltdown at him. Obi-Wan needs cuddles!!!

#asks #anon #nothing compares to you #also a lot of other stuff #mostly parentheses #groundhog day spoilers #as though anyone is filtering that out #it came out 30 years ago #also i thought the plural of syllabus was syllabi #but my computer squiggly lined me so whatever