#we live in a horrible terrible fucked up world were they all died and nothing is real

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

In a perfect world they would have written a plotline where Dean becomes addicted to angel grace because it was the only thing that keeps the effects of the mark of cain at bay.

In a perfect world it would have been the perfect parallel to Sam's demon blood junkie arc

In a perfect world, Cas would have been Deans Ruby

IN A PERFECT WORLD THATS HOW THEY WOULDVE GOTTEN TOGTHER

#but we dont live in a perfect world #we live in a horrible terrible fucked up world were they all died and nothing is real #i need someone to write this #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #spn #destiel #bbc merlin #sam winchester

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 2

Love in the Guise of Friendship

Summary: 6 months pass and you learn to deal with your grief with help from an unexpected source. Words: 3.2k TWs: allusions to suicidal thoughts

Parts: 1 2 3

13 days after the world ended

“Please take him.”

You were a terrible mother. You couldn’t even hold your own son. You hoped as Joseph cried and Kyle took him and tried to soothe him that someone would come and take the baby away from you. You didn’t deserve to have something so precious when every time you held him you wanted to throw up. A few times you had, putting him down quickly and diving for the toilet. Head leant on the toilet seat, sweaty hair sticking to it and looking at the little thing on the hard tiled floor whose eyes belonged to a spectre, you sometimes wished you would do the right thing and just die already so someone better could take him. 

Kyle had stayed in your flat since the world ended. Johnny’s mother had wanted to and it was a small mercy that she hadn’t pushed. The idea of her being there made you want to lay down and let the earth swallow you up. You hadn’t seen Price although the groceries that arrived every few days had his name next to the order. Nothing at all from Ghost. You wondered if he found you disgusting. Sometimes it felt like he could see right to the heart of you. Sometimes it felt like he had seen the ugliness when your baby had died, and then he had seen it when your husband had died, and now he knew that you were wretched and unfit for love. You half expected him to show up in the night to take Joseph away.

“Come on little man, can’t be giving your mum such a hard time. If this is what you’re like now you’ll drive her right mental when you start teething.”

Fuck. The sob that came out of you was a broken and pathetic thing. It was just that Johnny had said something similar when you had first taken Joseph home. As it did at least five times a day, the grief smothered you so entirely that Kyle had to steer you into the nest of blankets and pillows you had built yourself on the couch. He was staying in the bedroom with Joseph right now. You couldn’t go in there yet. You didn’t know when you would be able to. 

“It’s ok, we’ll try again tomorrow yeah?”

You managed a limp nod as you burrowed into the bedding that had stopped smelling like cosiness among a winter pine forest a week ago. You would try again tomorrow.

–

23 days after the world ended

“She can’t be on her own.”

Simon had hoped that you’d be at least a little better by now. You’d never be ok, he more than anyone understood that, but you would learn to live again. You hadn’t seen him since that horrible night. The 141 never officially attended the family funeral, they had taken a portion of the ashes and held their own memorial for their fallen brother. But Ghost had seen you, had been there in the shadows keeping watch.

He had near threatened to quit if Gaz wasn’t given leave to stay with you. He had asked him to, although he suspected he might have done it anyway. You needed someone and after seeing how you had paled speaking with Johnny’s family he had made arrangements. Mrs MacTavish hadn’t been happy to stay away, but he was blunt when he told her that despite her best intentions, being around Johnny’s family would break you right now. He was steadfast in his belief that there was still enough of you left to break.

“Garrick…”

“Don’t Garrick me Lieutenant. You… you’re better at this kind of thing than I am. Stop being a prat and get over here, she needs you right now.”

“We don’t even like each other.”

“You don’t have to. You understand each other, that’s enough.”

He knew that Gaz was right. If anyone understood this sort of all encompassing grief, it was going to be him. He had already pulled you back from it once before. But it was different this time. This time his own grief was choking him and if he added it to yours he was scared it would kill you both. 

It was selfishness that had kept him away this long. Gaz was grieving too and he had been left with the responsibility of keeping your head above the water in the sea you had made of your sorrow. He had stayed by your side even when his own support system was waiting for him in his London flat. He had met Gaz’s partner a few times, he knew they would be there to soothe him like he needed. But because Ghost was a fucking coward, instead his Seargent (the one he hadn’t let fucking die in his arms) was with you. Only now the cracks were starting to show and Gaz needed to be home before he splintered entirely under the weight of it all. 

“Ghost?”

“Ok. I’ll be round tomorrow.”

–

30 days after the world ended

“You have got to be kidding.”

There was no way that the big scary man in the balaclava, that you still hadn’t seen him without despite your best efforts, was this hopeless at cooking. 

“S’too fucking long! Or your pot isn’t big enough!”

Oh God he sounded so unlike himself right then. Gone was the gruff, smug bastard and in his place was, dare you say, someone embarrassed. And he damn well should be in honesty. What grown man couldn’t even make spaghetti? All the pasta noodles had a section of scorching from where they had been left laying against the edge of the pot. There was a startling sound in the air, one you had forgotten existed. His eyes were wide as it carried through the room. It took you a moment to parse the sound. It was coming from you. You were laughing. 

His wide eyed surprise quickly giving way to a glare over the fact that you would dare laugh at his expense only made you laugh harder, clutching at your stomach with one arm and wiping frantically at your watering eyes with the other. 

“Big scary skull man defeated by Italian food!” you wheezed, your entire body clinging to the feeling of giddy lightness at this moment. “Is that why you wear it? Hiding the mortification from being outdone by” you paused to read the packet and the ridiculousness of it only made you laugh hard enough to be snorting like a pig, “Fedelini number 10!”

Ghost nearly ripped off his balaclava right there and then to prove he was not in fact mortified which would have been a disaster considering his logical brain was certain his cheeks and ears were burning red, but little Joseph rescued him from the further humiliation when he gave a happy gurgle from his high chair that had you scooping him up. You were laughing and cooing at him as you showed him the burnt pasta, telling him about the big scary skull man who was hiding his face for fear of reprisal from every Italian on the planet.

It was the first time you had held him without those storm clouds in your eyes and that awful rigidity from all the tension swimming through you. He was struck terrified for a moment that he would fuck up and this fragile happiness would shatter, but when you turned to him, making fun of him through the baby, his mouth was moving before he could overthink it. 

“Your ma’s a brat Joe. She forgets that I saw her attempt at a birthday cake.”

“It was avant garde! And it was still delicious!” you said with a gasp of outrage that he would dare to bring up the great birthday cake disaster of 2021. 

“You know he only told you that to spare your feelings, right princess?”

You pressed Joseph to your chest with a hand to his ear, feigning blocking him from hearing such slander. 

“This is why the universe messed up your hearing J, to protect you from all these lies coming from casper over here.”

The pasta was thrown out and you ordered in (Italian of course). Now that you could hold Joseph without your gut roiling you found you didn’t want to stop, but you still paused at the bedroom door and passed him off to Ghost instead. He didn’t push it, not tonight, not after you had laughed and held Joe and not drowned at the mention of something Johnny had said. Soon though. He was getting you back into a proper bed soon.

–

2 months after the world ended

Price was staying out of it although taking great amusement in watching it happen (even if his heart felt like it was in a woodchipper watching the biggest two casualties of his war). Joseph in his arms was happy to tug at his beard and not too concerned about the fight happening. 

You were like a fucking feral cat is what Ghost thought as you kicked your legs and battered your fists against his back. He didn’t really think about it when he laid a spank on your ass causing an indignant squawk from you. Maybe if either of you were willing to see one another as anything but enemies it might have caused an entirely different reaction.

“You put me down you fucking animal!”

“Language princess, little ears listening.”

Oh he thought he was hilarious clearly since you both knew Price had turned off Joe’s hearing aid the minute this started kicking off. You thought otherwise. Stupid bonehead didn’t have a funny bone in his body. Prick.

“I’m not bloody sleeping there!”

“Yes you bloody are!”

He had coaxed you into the bedroom over the last few weeks, but despite his efforts you still wouldn’t sleep in the bed and he had completely run out of patience. Compassion had been fully overruled by annoyance. You were an absolute pain in his arse and it was driving him crazy that you would be so stubborn about this. 

Plus he was starting to get antsy about sleeping on the bedroom floor. Since you were on the couch he couldn’t take that, and even though the bed smelled faintly of Gaz which would have been fine, the first time he had laid down in it the bottom pillow still held a whisper of whiskey in front of a fireplace, frosted pine trees perfuming through a window. So he had slept on the floor and not told you. Then he had just sort of kept doing it. 

“Jesus fuck woman!” he hissed when your nails dragged up his back as he crossed the threshold to the bedroom. 

“Should’ve wore your fucking kevlar if you were intending on getting into a fight with me. I’m going to rip you apart casper.”

He laughed as he grabbed your hips and up ended you over his shoulder and onto the bed, an offt coming from you as you bounced. You hadn’t been on this bed since the world ended. The thought of it would floor you. It had taken a monumental effort to even be in the room. Ghost had only convinced you with the fact that Joe slept better with the crib in the bedroom and needed his mum to put him down for naps and sleeps.

Only now all the panic you usually felt in this room, all the horror of the idea of being in this bed, was crushed under the weight of your fury at this idiot’s smug eyes looking down at you. Not on your life would you let him win a fight. Just because he was a lumbering giant with bad taste in masks did not mean he could take you on. So instead of hyperventilating and crawling off the bed to curl up on the floor and cry, you lunged to throttle him. 

When the growling and yelling stopped a minute or so later Price peeked into the room to make sure you hadn’t actually killed one another to find both of you in the bed, your back to Simon’s chest with his legs pinning yours and his arms holding you lightly in a sleeper hold. Not enough to significantly cut off your oxygen, but enough to immobilise you and have you silently simmering with rage at being caught. 

There were red lines down Simon’s arms, claw marks. Your hair was a mess, mussed and wrecked from what must have been a savage wrestling match. Was that…? Price laughed as he bounced Joseph.

“Better hope she isn’t rabid Simon.”

“He started it” you grumbled, maybe a little chagrined now faced with the reality of Captain John Price seeing teeth marks on his soldier’s forearm. 

Joseph perked up and chubby little hands flailed as he reached toward you. Price sat down on the edge of the bed to hand the little bundle of trouble over into your arms, Ghost’s hold loosening as his legs released yours and his arms dropped, hands finding a comfortable position lightly resting on your hips.

Neither of you put any conscious thought into the position, you sat between his legs, almost leant back on his chest with the baby cooing happily in your arms as Ghost waggled his eyebrows over your shoulder. You were both content to just lay all your attention on the most perfect baby to have ever existed and his beautiful eyes. 

The woodchipper whirred violently.

–

4 months after the world ended

You didn’t know what was more startling about the fact that Ghost had just burst into the bathroom with Joseph in his arms, the fact that you were naked in the bath or the fact that you could see Simon Riley. 

He sort of lived with you now, neither of you willing to be the first to voice that you were doing a lot better these days and probably didn’t need someone living in to make sure you didn’t go off the deep end. You thought Kyle was going to say something about it last time he visited, but he seemed to think better of it and kept quiet. 

But in all that time you had never seen him without his mask. You had caught glimpses of a strong jawline when he ate, seen clear eyes when he stopped putting eye black on them a few weeks back. Strangely after wanting to trick him into letting you see him, you had ignored the chance of it a week ago. He had been leaning over the crib and you caught a glimpse of skin that told you he had his balaclava off. Only you didn’t walk in. You don’t know why you didn’t. Instead you quietly left the room again and stood by the wall outside, covering your mouth to smother an unexpected sob when you heard the soft sound of a lullaby being sung.

He was a wild and twisted sort of handsome (not that he hadn’t told you several times he was good looking, for such a large and intimidating man he was actually a bit of an arrogant, smug tosser once you got to know him). The scars didn’t really make you flinch, you were married to Johnny after all and while his face wasn’t too badly marked up outside of a few knicks and small lines he had plenty of gnarled scar tissue around his body. You had been married to him. His face hadn’t been too badly marked.

“Ok, hang on, let’s do it again for mum Joe.”

Simon looked almost crazed as he stuck his tongue out at your son, seemingly not bothered in the slightest that you were still very much completely naked in the bath. You would have screamed at him to get out, only as he started screwing up his nose and crossing his eyes J laughed and any concern about your state of dress or his rude interruption died in your throat. 

“Oh… oh my God! Fuck wait where’s my phone! Can you do it again J? Is Simon’s face funny?” you cooed, nearly sliding and cracking your head open as you rushed to your feet and lunged out of the tub to get your phone from the counter so you could make sure you had video evidence of this moment forever. 

Both an unmasked Simon and a dripping wet and naked you cooed and made silly faces and laughed along for the next 10 minutes before Joseph decided he was well and truly tuckered out from practising his new talent and conked out on Simon’s shoulder. 

Only without the excitement of baby’s first laugh did you both realise the situation and blink in shock at one another. Simon’s eyes flickered briefly over you, and absolutely ass that he was he bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“Nice piercing.”

Your face blazed red. Simon Riley had no business knowing that you had a barbell through the hood of your clit.

“Cute scars.”

Simon found the tips of his ears warming. You had no business knowing that he had a variety of scars on his face.

As if the spell keeping you both frozen in place broke, you snatched a towel and turned to wrap yourself in it while he turned his back so you couldn’t see his face. Both stood in the bathroom, backs to one another, there was an awkward beat of hesitation with neither of you knowing how to diffuse this situation. 

“I’ll… put him down. I’ll put him down.”

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll just… get dressed.”

“Right.”

You were both very careful to not bring it up again, even when Simon never wore the balaclava around the house after that.

–

6 months after the world ended

It was love in the guise of friendship. Neither of you were stupid enough to acknowledge it. 

–

2 hours after the fuck up of the century

“Permission to speak freely Captain.”

“Granted.”

“I fucking told ye so. Simmons has always been a shitebag, and now he’s fucked us.”

“...I won’t make you stay.”

“Aye, but we both know if I pull out of this now the world gets dirty.”

The despair settled into Price’s bones. John MacTavish should be on his way to exfil right now, but instead was on the other end of a burner phone as Price sat in the helo that wouldn’t be taking his Sergeant home as planned. 

He hated this. He hated holding little Joseph MacTavish knowing that Soap was missing it. He hated looking at you and seeing the way your eyes sometimes glazed, mind drifting to your apparently dead husband. He hated looking at Simon and seeing a man slowly falling in love and drowning in guilt about it.

But he had to get dirty to keep the world clean. 

So they changed the plan. Simmons had well and truly fucked it and now they needed to be in it for the long haul. John MacTavish would stay a dead man. Vladimir Makarov would be given no reason to suspect that his double agent was a triple agent, which meant a comms blackout until Soap was certain beyond doubt that it was time to pull the trigger. Nobody but him, Price and Laswell would ever know.

There was one thing asked of Price and he swore to it. He would do anything in his power to make sure you and Joseph were happy and looked after. He didn’t dare comment when after a moment, Soap added Simon Riley to that small list.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader

[omegalomania]

not to get top surgery and then Immediately start rambling about ybc again but like the thing about ybc is . the thing is. the thing is that it's this direct fucking correlation to fob's career trajectory and the turbulence of the hiatus. and i dont know how much of this was intentional or not but the THING about the hiatus is that it seeps into everything they do in this weird wild unfathomable way. like it or not, it is a very distinct "before and after" point. like it's the darkest point in the band's history, and in many ways in each member's individual histories, and ybc is basically a whole narrative crafted around this because it was about their resurgence and return and the phoenix rising from the ashes.

ybc as a narrative starts because of a briefcase. a not insignificant portion of this narrative revolves around this case, and it contains something that we never see. the case contains something terrible. it contains something that the band members are afraid of but overjoyed to have and nonetheless fight and kill each other to protect (pete could feel the band slipping away but wrote about it anyway. patrick and joe were disillusioned and tired and wanted a break from it all). pete clings to this briefcase and shields it with his body at the very end, DIES to protect it (pete was the only one who didn't want the hiatus and didn't know what he was outside of fall out boy). patrick physically ties the case to his body and it has to be cleaved from him, painfully (killing the band arguably nearly killed his career in music). this is a story that starts with the band's faces bathed in a radiant golden glow of something full of so much promise...that subsequently crushes them beneath its heel, mangles them, tortures them, drags them through hell, divides them again and again and again and again (the band became so much bigger than any of them dreamed and yet if they'd never taken the break, it would have broken the band eventually). their lives are uprooted and ruined and ruptured because of it. they tied themselves to this thing that pulled them apart, brutally, in more ways than one.

did they mean it? did they mean it when this case became stained, literally, with their blood? did they mean it when, immediately upon obtaining this case, the band was separated from each other and were quickly captured and tortured? when the case was seized by forces other than themselves? did they mean it when a group of literal kids beat the shit out of the band and left them for dead (it's been years and pete still calls us that - the kids)? when patrick was warped into something uncontrollably monstrous, possessed of a deep-seated hatred toward music as a very concept? when patrick was the one to kill joe, who then went to the platonic ideal of sex drugs and rock and roll hell? when andy died alone, defending something without any backup or hope for resolution? when patrick and pete were the last two standing who murdered each other over this thing, coughing blood in the dust while the spectators gathered around to root hungrily for their demise? when the pair of them died side by side, seemingly unable to survive without one another?

it's this briefcase that contains something ruinous and horrible that rises to tear the band apart (again) but at which the band members do not so much as flinch as they face this fucking thing down. this thing that became so much bigger than they were and threatened to consume them. this thing that they protected and fought and died for and swore to love and defend even as it wanted to rip them apart. and did they mean that? did they mean it when they chose to forgive one another for all their wrongdoings without hesitation and walk back into a world that had been nothing but unkind to them, and fight for it regardless? did they mean this glorious and inexplicable conclusion, white light crashing into red and sending forth a wave of blood that lapped up against the very fucking gates of heaven?

the band had been together for something like a year when this story ended. and i think at this point there was no real knowing whether there'd be a resolution. and maybe on some level they will always feel that push. that adversity. there will always be something they must go up against, some by their own design, some external. but if they have each other -

well. you know how it goes. they've got each other. and that's enough.

fuck, but as long as they have each other, it's enough.

#*making poasts #not to get top surgery and immediately go insane but i was rereading some chat logs between kell and me and i had to share #like the whole thing is so painfully allegorical and i dont know how much they MEANT FOR THIS #but how much do they ever?? mean for it?? #like it serves as such a focal point for the bands trajectory that it just leaks into everything and rUINS MY LIFE EVERY TIME

[ashleyfanfic]

"Stay A Thousand Years"

Is a fun little choral version of Jon and Dany's love song "Truth" from Game of Thrones. Oh, why did he write it? Cause he felt like it and it went with what could have been with their epic love story and BECAUSE THEY FUCKING DESERVED IT. Oh, don't think it's that important that this little version ended up being release? Did you know he also did a special one for Jaime and Brienne that was never released because Jon and Dany's was more epic?

You will never convince me that everyone involved with that show knew Dany was going down a dark path. NEVER! Yeah, some of the actors have to justify it to be settled into their role and live with the fact that they were part of one of the greatest television spectacles of all time that epically crashed and burned for bad storytelling and "subverting expectations". Guys, they literally tried to justify her death by saying "she killed slavers and we all cheered". TYRION SAID THIS! Yes we all fucking cheered. She killed people who enslaved other people. She killed bad people. Her brother was abusive to her and threatened to cut her child out and leave it for Drogo if he didn't get what he wanted. He was crazy and would have been a terrible ruler. But no, we should take the way he died and the way she let him die as her madness.

So, let's flip the coin and look at the perennial fanboy favorite, Stannis Baratheon. Let's see, who were the people we saw Stannis kill? Like, actually kill. Well, he sacrificed his brother and law to the lord of light. He tried to kill Gendry but used his blood to help along the deaths of Joffrey, Robb, and Balon Greyjoy. Granted, Joffrey and Balon were pieces of shit. But Robb, for all his faults and stupidity, looked to be a not horrible king. Then, in the biggest douche bag move of all the douche bag moves on the show, Stannis had his daughter burned alive out of religious zealotry. To help him win a battle that it was clear he wasn't going to win. His sweet, precious, intelligent daughter who loved him and him. You want to talk about characters on this show who did nothing wrong, look no further than Shireen Baratheon. But Stannis okayed her being cooked over a fire like a hot dog.

My long and winding point goes back to this: the villain arch of Daenerys didn't make sense then, it doesn't make sense now, and it will never make sense. Some of these actors get really into their roles and they mean a lot to them. They have to find some way to justify their actions in order to be able to make it come across on the screen believably. Which is what I think Kit's deal is, cause when he's actually made to talk about it with a fan or even in from of Emilia, he's not so set on Jon made the right decision. In fact, from the clips that were released of his chat with the fan over that zoom call or whatever, he's firmly in the Jon and Dany Together Forever club. He agrees that it made all the sense in the world for them to be together. Because it does. They are the alpha and omega, fire and ice, the true love story of that show. Their characters and their coming from nothing and into the front of the story is what it's fucking about. It's called Song of Ice and Fire. Not Ice and his shitty cousin he thought was his sister (don't even get me started on the destruction done to Arya and Sansa in those final seasons, or God forbid, Jaime Lannister).

I wish we could all agree that no matter what narrative anyone in the cast or crew want to try to pin on it, the final season failed so epically bad that a lot of things happened: a petition was started to redo the entire last season (which had no chance of going anywhere but 1.4 million is a lot of people), Kit Harington checked himself into rehab (there were signs during filming that he might not have been doing so great and God bless him he didn't deserve the emotional torture those two writer asshats did to him all the time), COUNTLESS celebrities all made it very public that they were with Daenerys, the ending was stupid, and she and Jon should have ruled the seven kingdoms, and the best, the piece that really tells you how badly they fucked it up, Dan and Dave were removed from having anything to do with Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. Honestly, none of us should have trusted them when one half of that due made the Wolverine Origin movie and made Deadpool silent. He's the merc with the mouth. You do not silence Deadpool.

If you really think the ending of that show settles with everyone ok, then tell me why Kit Harington is trying so very hard to get a show with Jon Snow started. He hates the ending his character had even though he said it made sense to him at the time. If it did that, baby, why you trying so hard to bring Jon Snow back?

And then you have the people at HBO. If you think that your favorite is the face of that show, I will out right laugh at you and call you a moron to your face. Aside from the dragons, DAENERYS is the face of Game of Thrones. Not Sansa, not Tyrion, not Jon, Arya, or Bran. No, the face is Daenerys because she was epic. There was no other character on that show like her. She is the one that TRULY brought magic into that world. Not only did she have the dragons, but she had been proven to be impervious to fire. That was shown before she was gifted the eggs. There was something special about her in her first scene.

Which brings me back to Ramin and his love for Daenerys. Do you know how many songs he's done for Daenerys? A LOT. "Mhysa" for one. He even admitted in an interview once that he liked writing music for her and her scenes. Of course he did. That's where all the magic was. He also says that he wrote the love song for Jon and Dany backwards, doing the large sweeping song of their love scene and then going backwards and doing the softer tones of them just bonding. But then, to find out that he'd written this other song, this "Stay A Thousand Years" based off Dany's line in the first episode of the final season to represent their love for one another and how epic it COULD HAVE BEEN. They were the point.

I'll bring you back to my brother's point he makes all the time: if Jon's purpose for being brought back wasn't to kill the Night King, then what was the point? There are scenes shot with Emilia where she is clearly wearing a baby bump tummy. Perhaps the true plan, what should have happened, was Dany being pregnant by Jon (otherwise why have Tyrion bring it up in Season 7 and then Jon basically "Hold my beer" to her if that wasn't going to be the point?). But you know what you probably couldn't do and get away with it, just have everyone kind of go along with it? Have Jon kill a pregnant Daenerys. You think people complained about Jon killing Dany now? There is no way they could have done that which means their ending of turning Dany mad and Jon having to put her down like a rabid dog wouldn't have worked. And what wouldn't it have worked? Because like the ending we got, it made no sense. Honestly, the worst thing that ever happened to Daenerys is actually meeting and listening to Tyrion. Her life went to shit after that happened.

#not sure where this rant came from #anti got #pro jonerys #ramin djawadi #extra song #stay a thousand years

[burningthemidnightcityoil]

The biggest thing I find disappointing about any of the "official" sequels to Homestuck, is that... They don't really expand on Homestuck.

They simply add problems, that weren't needed, and are churning out solutions, that didn't matter--because the problems in the first place weren't needed.

My idea of a Homestuck sequel would be to have the world-build, because now we have that idea of the "world" and how it "works", but start from scratch (haha).

Make new characters in classes and aspects we haven't seen yet, or didn't see enough of (Mages and Thieves and Sylphs, oh my, Dooms and Rages and Blood, oh my!). Make new characters that have new remixes of classes and aspects we already know of.

Make new inner memes and repetitions, Homestuck is nothing if not repetitious. Have some actual fun with your sequel. I can't imagine the current stuff being Fun, not with what's its building from.

Say something new in the story, or say something old in a different way. HS is all about ridiculous bullshit all the time anyway, just as much so as its about serious shit all the time always.

Personally, I'd rather not go through SBURB again, I'd want to see how HS works without SBURB being the main focus--or maybe have a SBURB that is completely off its knocker and is impossible to play, as its background.

( Earth C is a perfect place for that )

There are, of course, several things that can be expanded and thoroughly explored that HS leaves open.

Throughout your life, you are going to have more than one class or aspect. I know huh? Its a thing we've seen out of the Adults that pop up in HS--they always have at least one more class and aspect, and are capable of performing those classes and aspects successfully. And this even falls in line with typical character dynamics on writing and comprehension. A 3D character changes depending on what situation they're in and who they're with. And with such, we can assume that HS is about your Core unchangable Classpect--Who are you that is you?-- But now, let's have another!

All your Lives are Connected Yeah yeah sounds like Utilma-Self horseshit. But there is clearly a thing to explore here; you are connected to yourself, throughout time and space. So even if one of yourself dies, it'll still live on as long as you exist.

The Afterlife Okay, we've seen hints, maybe, but now I kinda want to know how this works without Dream Bubbles. Dream Bubbles are a SBURB thing, and even then, its only sessions that touch on the Troll Session (Like the human one), who get access. And even then... its only for Players. Everything else is a recorded memory.

What's a universe like when it has its Gods? Its clear that when SBURB makes a universe, its generally intended that its players become its gods of that universe. So... what happens when that does actually happen, and not some tomfuckery coming along.

And of course, this is just the HOmestuck World-Build stuff.

You can tell so many different stories from this, from any variety, from silly to serious (And in HS's case--both). Hell, take someone off the street, throw them randomly at this, see how they react, that sort of deal.

And it can be done, without slogging HS's characters through the murk.

If the intention of the current "sequels" were to make things tired, dragged out, and not even fun anymore... Yeah congrats. The story worked as intended. So much so that I'm not even going to keep up with it.

That's how tired its made me.

ADDENDUM:

A lot of people, found comfort, relation, and personal importance, in HS's characters.

And what was done to several character, was a horrible, disgusting, and terrible thing to do, to characters that people found comfortable, relatable and personally important.

And How it was handled afterwards, whether it was staged or not, was A Shit Way to Handle It.

Occurring at a time and place in history where you Should Not Have Fucked That Up.

Because of this, I am not going to accept the "Sequels". I'm not going to accept any justification for the "Sequels".

As far as I'm concerned, Homestuck ended with Homestuck, a silly ridiculous serious webcomic that lasted a very long time and long after the time period it was in (To a point where nobody remembers what early '10s / late 00's internet was like), no publication attached.

#homestuck

[mkzmerryfriend]

It is time. I have finished DRAMAtical Murder. *cracks knuckles*

Listen. This is a game about accepting yourself. I know it probably doesn’t seem like that, because the majority of what people remember about the game is just like. Sex. But hear me out; every single route has to do with accepting who you are, virtues and vices and all. We will look at them in the recommended order of completion.

First, Koujaku’s route deals with the idea of horrible past trauma defining and controlling you. Koujaku was subjected to horribly abuse, being forced to get multiple tattoos as a young teenager, and because of the tattoo he was transformed into some kind of being a pure hate and malice. He killed his entire family without even realizing it. The game doesn’t do a great job of putting the blame where it belongs (Ryuuhou and his fucking skeleton necklace), but it does a good job of driving home that you cannot forget or live in the past. You can’t stay in the past, but you can’t just ignore it like it didn’t happen either. You have to face it head-on and be honest. You made mistakes and that’s okay (again, those mistakes weren’t his, they were skull-jewelry-bitch’s, but I digress). 

Next, Noiz’s route deals a lot with feeling and sensation, but it’s easy to get caught up in the sensation aspect and forget the feeling aspect. Noiz has no sensation in his body except his tongue, but his feelings are still just as big. The disconnect between feeling something so strongly inside but having no bodily way to express that feeling (heat in your chest or face, cold clammy hands, etc) must have been what drove Noiz to play in Rhyme all the time. It’s explained that his lack of sensation was the reason, but this game could’ve gone so much further with him and it’s slightly disappointing. Anyway, what Aoba does in Scrap is bring color (sensation) back to Noiz’s world, and he wakes up not only able to feel his injuries, but he also is immediately more expressive. This is what I was talking about, having no bodily way to express feelings. If he can’t feel sensations in his body, I imagine he probably didn’t know when he was scared or happy or sad until the feeling was intense. This sounds a lot like what? Depression! And yeah, having someone else be the reason you become less depressed isn’t a great message, but it’s only Aoba’s push that gets him out of the lowest low. After that, it was Noiz’s decision to go back to Germany and right his wrongs and make better choices with his family, regardless of whether they deserved it, because it mattered to him. 

Next, Mink, and we have a LOT to talk about here. Because this was handled so poorly. First of all, what his route is SUPPOSED to be about is believing that you deserve to live even when there seems to be nothing left to live for. His actions are SUPPOSED to be a means to an end, he simply wants to get to Toue, get his revenge, and then die so that he and everyone Toue killed can have peace. Aoba is SUPPOSED to be there to show him that that kind of mentality is bullshit, because peace is not reached through violence and death, it is reached through forgiveness. And absolutely not the forgiving Toue, but forgiving himself. Mink clearly holds this weight of responsibility for the people that died when he was young, because he survived. Mink is SUPPOSED to be the character that does bad things and doesn’t want to, that seems horrible and mean but really isn’t. HOWEVER. The way the game goes about this is abusing Aoba into submission through various instances of rape. There’s no sugar coating to be done. He threatens to rape him in the common route, then in his main route it is his main form of manipulation to get Aoba to submit and bring out Sly, the personality literally created to protect Aoba from people like Mink. There is no resolution in Mink’s route, which makes his entire arc fall flat. He is horrible and terrible and Aoba just forgives him for it. There is enough for someone like me to figure out what it was supposed to be, but the game never outright says ANY of this. So he gets a few dings on his record. Also, the portrayal of him (a Native American) as hyperviolent is extremely racist. Moving on.

Lastly (deceptively), Clear’s route digs deep into the game’s cyperpunk genre, bringing up questions of humanity and autonomy. Clear is used as an allegory for youthful innocence and coming of age, while also being a story about finding and respecting autonomy. The final scene with Clear before the wrap-up, while a bit ridiculous (sex scene while my boyfriend dies??), it is entirely Aoba listening to Clear’s wishes, because he deserves to be allowed to want and wish and have. Throughout the route, Clear talks about his ideas of death and what life really means, what life in itself is. When they confront Toue, Toue says life is a game, and that those favored by fate use others for their pieces. Clear knows this is bullshit and tells him so, because thanks to Aoba he has been able to form a world view that is completely his own. He hasn’t adopted Aoba’s, he has listened and learned from him and created his own understanding of life and what it means to live and be alive. He sacrifices himself in order to fight for Aoba and keep him safe. He breaks the part of himself that is holding him back despite what he knows it will do to him. And the best part is, Aoba has a chance to use Scrap to tell Clear not to hurt himself, to keep him from doing what he is about to do, but the only way to get Clear’s good ending is to let him choose his fate. He must choose for himself, or else Aoba must not think of him as his own person and must not trust him enough to do what needs to be done. I love this route, because it emphasizes that aspect of (weirdly) parenting where you have to let the younger person come to their own conclusions, you cannot take control of situations just because you fear for the other person, you must let that person make their own choices. Because it isn’t your job to make those choices, it’s theirs, because it’s their life they are in control of. 

Anyway, PSYCH, we have one last route to talk about! The True Ending route!

Ren! Where on earth do I even start. Ren’s route specifically is about many of the things the other routes were about. He is an allmate, so he struggles with the idea of autonomy after the worm starts making him feel things he shouldn’t. He is part of Aoba, which he struggles with because he realizes he has been failing his singular purpose to protect Aoba. Autonomy, feelings, the past, and living despite past trauma. These things culminate in what is ultimately Aoba’s arc. Because Ren is a piece of him, a personality that got transferred to an allmate in order to protect him, a personality warring against Sly, another personality aimed at protection via violence. 

Let’s get into it, shall we? Dissociative Identity Disorder is characterized by a person having multiple distinct personalities. It is often caused by past trauma. Knowing this, we know this is what Aoba experienced. As a baby, he was severed from his brother (they were conjoined at the hair, don’t question it), he was orphaned and grew up troubled, in a church of people who hated him, therefore forming his first personality, Ren. Ren was created to protect him, to be there to listen, to be a calm presence to counter the chaos of his life. Then, when the Seragakis found him, he was moved to the house with Tae, which is not in a good area of town. His newly gained parents also soon left him with Tae, uprooting his new life almost immediately and causing his anxious attachment style. From then on, he started playing Rhyme and getting into fights, and then Sly was born. Sly Blue was the name he used in Rhyme, his nickname to hide behind, but the spiteful, dangerous person he became split into a new personality all its own in the name of protection via force. Sly was created to protect Aoba in ways Ren could not. Ren, distraught, found a way to transfer himself to the allmate Aoba found on the road so that he could better fight the ideas and habits of Sly. Then, Virus and Trip wiped both their memories with the powers of Morphine, and they both forgot who they used to be. Ren believed himself an allmate, Aoba forgot Rhyme and never knew of Sly and started taking painkillers for headaches that we now know were Sly trying to resurface. 

During Aoba’s arc in the True Ending route, he learns that he has these other personalities and what they did. In the end, it’s Sei, Aoba’s twin brother that he was separated from, that tells him that both Ren and Sly were only ever trying to keep him safe, and to show Sly some gratitude in the end. This is the part of the story where the themes of the other routes come together. Aoba realizes that Sly was never malevolent, that all he wanted was to control the situations they were in so they could be kept safe in the end (because without Aoba there is no Sly), and that Sly was part of himself. He accepts this part of himself, essentially saying that he recognizes that all he meant to do was keep them both safe, and Sly returns to be part of Aoba. Ren, however, Aoba realizes and accepts as his own person with his own autonomy. Because of the worm in his programming, he split off entirely from Aoba’s psyche, and is now feeling entirely unique desires other than protecting Aoba for the sake of it. 

All of that is to say, DRAMAtical Murder is a story about all these things. It is a story about accepting the past, living despite your trauma, understanding that there are parts of yourself that exist in order to protect you, and showing yourself patience and gratitude for those parts of you, even if they are dangerous parts. It’s just. A really good message.

#this is literally four pages of analysis of this game #please consider reading and maybe if you have thoughts share them! #dmmd #dramatical murder #long post #i really appreciate this game now that ive been in advanced english classes and can actually understand the themes #i love cyberpunk shit like this #this is what im doing with my college degree which was not in english

[djemsostylist]

What went wrong...continued

bc apparently tumblr has a character limit

4. The characters--The problem with the characters is, well, everything. The issue is that the show itself operates like most terribly written things--it makes no sense, and their entire "be kind" mantra falls apart when it only seems to apply to the people they like. Regina/The Evil Queen is a terrible person. Not in a regular "ug she's mean" sort of way, but in a "she committed mass murders over a series of years, tortured people, stole 28 years of life, and continued to murder and destroy" and yet she is worthy of redemption. The Wicked Witch literally murdered a women and r*ped her husband, but she deserves redemption. Rumple has been emotionally abusing Belle for the entirety of their relationship and murdered his ex wife for leaving him, but he deserves redemption. But those people get to be redeemed and forgiven over and over again, where characters like Cruella or Hades or even the Snow Queen have to die. It's an interesting sort of morality that seems to be entirely predicated on family or love--Hook is fine because Emma loves him, Cruella is not because no one loves her. The Wicked Witch is fine because Regina is her sister, Hades is not because he is not of any relation. Look I grew up with Luke Skywalker trying to redeem Darth Vader, I'm hardly averse to the idea of heroes trying to redeem their loved ones. I also grew up in a world where Darth Vader died, because you can't always have both. Regina being redeemed is a stretch, but I think there's a world where you make it work--but there is a morality there that you have to then be super aware of with every villain, or it makes our heroes look...well, not so heroic. It makes it confusing, too, especially when you have Snow kill Cora (an arguably horrible person and abuser) and everyone is worried about it blackening her heart, but then Emma kills Cruella (who is a murderer yes, but also arguably deeply mentally ill) and everyone is just like, "well Emma you did what you had to do". Even Hook--he's a murderer by necessity of storyline, but a murderer none the less, and his redemption is a foregone conclusion the moment he and Emma make-out, but for others it's a toss up. Ursula gets a pass bc Hook and Triton were mean to her (although it's unclear what her villainous deeds were), and Maleficent sort of gets forgotten. The Snow Queen just erased some memories and trapped people, but she has to kill herself for the heroes. The issue is that nothing is consistent, which makes it hard to root for our heroes when all you have to be is family to be forgiven. Additionally, they never deal with the fall out of the redemptions--sure the Charmings forgive the Evil Queen, but we've got an entire country/community whos lives she ruined. Robin Hood lost his wife because of her, but he's like "well I guess you're different now". Where is the angst that comes from actually having to confront the impact your cruelty had on others? This show talks about happy endings, but it does nothing to make them work other than saying "oops, my bad, I did it because I thought it was right." Hell, Regina's mother gets accepted into OUAT Heaven bc she was like "my bad" despite all her evil cruelty, murdering, and abuse, but then poor Jekyll gets eternally damned for a single fuck up and the heroes are like "shrug".

5. The Plot--OUAT, like most network shows that are not serialized, runs in the issue of not knowing what the fuck to do once they finish the first season long arc. And, like most other terribly written network shows, they solve the problem by just doing the same thing over and over and over, in increasingly annoying ways. By the time the show closes, we have seen the same scenes about 1000 times. Snow running away in the Enchanted Forest and Regina being mean to villagers. Hook on the Jolly Roger saying pirate things and also meeting everyone somehow despite never having met anyone. Emma saying "I don't think I can do this." Henry saying "You gotta believe." Regina saying "Oh right, I'm the Evil Queen." There's a revolving door of side characters we are forced to spend endless of embarrassing moments with until they are written off or simply dropped and forgotten. There's entire seasons worth of boring storylines we endure that go literally no where. Lily is Malificent's daughter, and then she like shows up, and we have to endure endless flashbacks of them as kids, only for her present adult self to have literally 0 impact on the storyline. And every time we get a new Disney character introduced, somehow we have to have a flashback to one of our mains knowing them somehow. It's exhausting. And the McGuffins are endless. ENDLESS. This season has a wand, a crystal, a goblet, a coin, a rock, a heart, a phial...you name it, we've dealt with it. It's a neverending series of "time to defeat x evil with y mcguffin while we relieve the same character arcs from 3 seasons ago." Emma is Closed Off and Unsure, Hook is Wanting Revenge but also Wanting Love, Henry is a Believer, Snow Never Gives Up, Charming Will Always Find His Family, Rumple Is a Dark Man Who Likes Darkness, Regina Is An Evil Queen Who Can Never Find Happiness--the plots NEVER change. By the time season 6 rolled around, I'd seen the same arcs play out 100 times. Henry at 14 (lol that they expected us to believe that) still playing "Operation ______" is ridiculous. He's not 10 anymore. The story doesn't let the characters breathe and grow, it doesn't explore who they are as people. They change if the plot needs them too--sometimes Hook is a pirate who stole gold, sometimes he's a random highway robber who murders people. Sometime Snow and Charming always believe in Good, sometimes they steal a baby to be filled with Darkness. You just never know.

So. i decided on 5 instead because this getting long and I could go on forever. My point is that OUAT was BAD. Awful, terrible, no good. BUT it could have been good. It had potential, if only they had thought, just a little bit. Which leads me to...

The Changes, Part 1

#ouat #once upon a time #djem watches ouat

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

The Offer - part four of a Magnus Archives x Malevolent Dark World AU

The Dark World gives and the Dark World takes away. This time, what it apparently gives is tainted with nostalgia and childhood fears.

Part of Just a Little Side-Quest, a Magnus Archives x Malevolent Dark World AU.

AO3

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

The Mystery Machine was a faithful little van. It rumbled forward, withstanding attack after attack, as the things that wanted to eat Jon found them.

(They hadn’t sniffed out John yet. Maybe they couldn’t, entangled with Arthur. Jon couldn’t tell, and was afraid that trying to know would somehow mess it up.)

Things ricocheted off the roof and sides like something out of a Hitchcock movie, but somehow, never went for the windows, and never got through. They rumbled out of the ground like burrowing insects. They torpedoed out of the sky like falling stars. They crawled, slinking, out of the Chasm like poisoned and vomited food.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said because he knew it was his fault, or at least happening because of him, because he was luring monsters like flies to spilled honey.

“It’s not your fault,” Martin kept saying.

But it was.

Jon debated. Should he leap out of the van, send the others on ahead, somehow? No; for reasons he couldn’t discern, they needed him here. They’d never make it to the cities without his guidance, and he knew that, absolutely knew they’d be trapped, one by one, in some horrible morass of someone’s making (possibly their own).

Martin drove. And Martin shifted gears. And Martin refused to look at the dashboard, willing the fuel gauge to remain on full.

Jon flinched with each attack, curled on himself in the front seat, and breathed (unnecessarily) too fast.

#

Even with a van, even with help, their progress seemed to slow to nothing.

They couldn’t see anything on the horizon; the red forest had disappeared, and so had any notable landscape marker. There were no buildings, no mountains, no smoke; there was the Chasm—they could always find that—but no more bridges, and no sign of any other living thing.

“Keep going,” Jon urged them, pointing for Martin’s benefit. “It’ll change soon enough. This part is felt to be the wilderness by too many who live here, interminable and without end, so it seems that way, but it isn’t. It just fakes it really well.”

“Really well,” muttered Martin, because it did feel interminable.

Maybe it was because the sun beat down (except it didn’t), and the AC didn’t work (or technically exist), and they all felt weary and dehydrated (except they were not), and had taken no time to rest. Or maybe it was because monsters kept coming, banging with startling irregularity into the sides, mindlessly chasing Jon.

I know this place, said John. It will end eventually. Though there’s no way to know which section we’re going to come out in.

“Try not to imagine anything too grim?” Jon suggested.

Fuck you, said John in an amicable tone.

“This isn’t all that terrible,” said Arthur, stretched out on the horizontal seat in the back. “Look, it isn’t even too different from… everything before. You’ve no idea what our life was like before we died.”

Our life, Jon thought, noting the singular. “Lots of monsters, were there?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “Because I… well, I don’t know. Kayne implied my parents were in a cult, or something, and… I don’t know, apparently I was special.” He sounded utterly dismissive. “Mostly because of this little guy in my head.”

Little!

Arthur smirked. “Minuscule.”

Fuck you.

Arthur’s left hand rose to flip him off even though he couldn’t see it, and Arthur laughed.

“Part of the King in Yellow,” said Jon because he suddenly knew.

Arthur sat straight up, his practical, sturdy boots making a muffled thud on the shag orange carpet. “What did you say?”

Jon hunched. “I… sorry. I wasn’t trying… to pry.”

“Easy, gents,” said Martin lightly.

Arthur frowned. “You listen to me, you Archivist—”

It’s okay, Arthur, said John, more gently than Jon had ever heard him, and Arthur stopped. It’s okay. We’re beyond his reach now. It’s all right.

It was an awkward moment, but it passed. Arthur sighed. “Right. Yes. The King in Yellow.”

“Who’s the King in Yellow?” said Martin.

“Some sort of god. He’s horrible.”

“All right,” said Martin.

“John is a piece of him who… who’s made his own choices. He’s not part of that anymore. I don’t… I don’t care what you think. He’s good and… he’s good.”

Oh, Arthur… John whispered, gripping his wrist.

“Arthur,” said Martin slowly. “I’m in love with the literal end of the world over here, riding shotgun, and you really think either of us are going to pass judgment on either of you?”

There was a pause.

Arthur suddenly laughed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just… habit. Back home, you say something like, I’ve got a piece of a god in my head, and either they try to exorcise you, or they try to take him for themselves.”

A few wanted to return me to the King, John pointed out.

“Only his acolytes,” Arthur volleyed back.

“There are some of those here,” said Jon distantly, looking out the window. In the far distance, an enormous chunk of sky had gone dark and foreboding and shaped exactly like Disney’s black cauldron. Clouds bubbled over its impossible top as though ready to spew planet-sized undead warriors.

He shuddered and looked away. Whoever’s weirdness that was, he hoped it wouldn’t reach them.

Martin glanced at him. “Are you all right?”

Jon sighed. “I don’t know. I feel…” He shifted. “I feel like I’m not… doing this right, somehow.”

“You’re not godding right?” Martin said, deadpan.

Jon gave him a dry look. “That’s not a word.”

“Well, I just made it one.”

“Godding is absurd. Etymologically, it doesn't even—”

Fuck!

Martin hit the brakes.

Unbelted, Arthur bounced off the front seat, but being apparently made of steel these days, was fine. “What? What the fuck is it?” he said, pulling himself up by Martin’s seat so John could see.

Arthur, there… it’s a farmhouse! It just appeared! It’s gray, with old, weathered siding and flaking paint. There’s a small porch next to a box-like room with a tiny window. Behind it, the house looks to be about two stories. There are lights in the windows, Arthur. Like candles flickering.

“Fuck,” said Arthur. “Did I do that?”

“What? Why would you have done that?” said Jon.

“I was just thinking we really needed a break,” said Arthur, guiltily. “I mean… I was thinking this place seems as barren, from what John said, as Kansas did in the Wizard of Oz, and we’re likely headed toward something like the Emerald City from what you’ve said, and… we could use a place to rest. We’ve been driving for four days.”

It hadn’t been four days. Not really. Their minds said four days and three nights because a lifetime in a world that rotated between sunlight and darkness had embedded itself in them, and could not be eschewed.

They were fine. They were. Except they struggled to believe, and maybe the reminder of time spent driving hadn’t been a good one because the van abruptly sputtered and died.

“Oh, no,” moaned Martin. “We’re out of fuel.”

“We don’t have to be,” said Jon a little desperately.

Martin sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been willing fuel into this thing for days. I’m… whatever muscle exercises faith is tired, okay?”

“Okay,” said Jon softly. “I can take a turn.”

“You’re no better off than I am,” said Martin. “We’re all tired.”

“Like I said,” said Arthur. “We need a break.”

“And that somehow translated to the Gale’s depression-era house from the Wizard of Oz?” Jon blurted.

“Gale?” said Martin.

“Dorothy Gale. Did you see the Wizard of Oz?” said Jon dryly. “Because that’s what this is right out of.”

“I sure didn’t,” said Martin. “I read the books when I was ten, got freaked out, and never watched the movie.”

“Really.” Jon turned to him with a tiny smile. “You, for once, not seeing a piece of media I saw?”

“Yes, well,” said Martin, going slightly red. “I had a couple of nasty dreams about it. Getting chased by Mombi, so.”

Jon bit his lower lip. “That’s… adorable.”

“Don’t you even try flipping that on me,” said Martin faux sternly.

Fucking… hey! Focus up, lovebirds!

“Sorry. Right. Sorry. Just a moment. Let me see what this is before we go walking into it.” And Jon… looked.

He’d been trying not to look too far, too hard, to rein himself in, to avoid drawing the attention of the fucking monsters that kept chasing them. But now…

It was like stretching a limb that had been curled for hours. It was like opening a cupboard that needed to be aired. It was like inhaling fully after shallow panting for far too long. It hurt just a little, and then, it was glorious.

He saw clearly, and spoke, and his voice vibrated through them, made the metal of the van creak, and rumbled, somehow, deep in the ground. “Within the house one being dwells,” Jon said. “A hag of light and dream, of nightmare and whimsy. She is, now, and cannot be unmade, and will welcome us… if we follow the rules. She knows we are here, and plans to make us offers we must not take. Regardless, her power prevents the god-eaters, and we may rest there for a time.” And Jon shook himself.

Everyone was staring at him, or at least in his direction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “That… that was weird.”

“A little bit Exorcist, yeah,” said Martin, putting his hand over Jon’s. “Good thing I’m into that.”

Jon smiled up at him. “What would I do without you?”

“She’s a what?” said Arthur, moving right along. “A hag? So not the wicked witch?”

“No, for some reason, that’s not what we got.” Jon scratched his head. “She’s… hard to explain. Sort of a twentieth to twenty-first century literary hag concept, condensed. She’s not real, except she is. She’ll act like a sweet old woman who wants to dote on us—and it’s a good idea to let her because we must not give offense—but she’ll also offer deals, and we shouldn’t take those, because she’ll always get the better end of them. Just… it doesn't matter how smart we are. That’s how this archetype works.”

“So it's Mombi. I've conjured Mombi," said Martin, looked spooked.

"Not exactly," said Jon. “We need to be respectful.”

Respectful, John huffed.

“Yes, respectful. It’s part of what she is. If we play by the rules, we’ll be fine, and insulting her is a guaranteed way to turn her hospitality into hostility.”

“I’ll handle the talking,” said Arthur.

I can talk fine! said John.

“Yes, you can, but if she’s a human-literary archetype, I’ll have a better chance at navigating her conversation, don’t you think?”

A pause. I suppose, John admitted.

Jon sighed and rubbed his arms. “Can we go inside? I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t be tired,” said Martin. “As you keep reminding us.”

“I… it’s not because I believe I am. Something… something’s wrong,” Jon admitted quietly.

Martin inhaled and held it. “You don’t know what?”

“Not yet, and I’m afraid to reach for it.”

“Well, then, let’s go in before we all subconsciously decide the fake sun sets again, and leave ourselves in darkness,” Martin said, and opened the squeaky van door.

#

A woman welcomed them on the porch.

She was white, and old, with her long hair back in a silvery bun, and a worn but well-kept dress of homespun, complete with a little apron. “Well, now, boys, I was wondering if you’d bother to come visit Auntie Em. I was beginning to think I’d need to wave a flag to draw you in.”

“Oi, that’s a bit ominous, isn’t it?” said Martin brightly.

She beamed at him. "What a cutie-pie you are!"

“Madam,” said Arthur in his most dulcet tones. “We hate to be a bother, but we need some shelter for the night.”

“Oh, no bother at all. I’m too far from the main merchant roads to get much company here, so I’ll consider your honest conversation a good enough trade for food and shelter.”

“We don’t need food,” Jon muttered rebelliously.

And the smell hit them: a waft of warm, delicious something, something garlicky and tomato-rich, something that included a hint of browned cheese.

Martin swallowed saliva. “Um. Maybe we want food?”

Auntie Em laughed. “In you go, now. Let’s throw those nasty things off your trail, shall we?”

Jon looked back. Dark shapes marred the otherwise empty sky, far off, but getting closer. “Oh, no,” he said softly.

Two steps up her porch, said John.

Auntie Em gave no indication whether or not she’d heard him.

#

It was a perfect replica of the farmhouse from the Wizard of Oz movie. Lace curtains and scuffed wooden floors, simple furniture with home-made pillows bearing an alphabet or quotes from the bible, an old-fashioned cast-iron stove and simple, metal implements hanging on the walls. The front screen door even bore a stylized Z.

The floor creaked as they walked. The patterned wallpaper was faded, but clean.

“I hope you don’t mind wooden chairs,” said Auntie Em. “I had more creature-comforts until about five minutes ago, but that’s life in the Dark World, eh?” And she cackled.

“Sorry about that,” said Arthur. “I think that was my fault.”

“It’s fine, deary,” said Auntie Em, directing them to a small, oval table with four place settings already laid out. “I haven’t seen anyone from an Earth in… gracious, quite some time!”

Outside, something ran into the wall. They all jumped.

All but for her. “Calm yourselves. They can’t get inside. Not even with such a naughty little treat sitting at my table.”

Jon went red. “Protection and food for honest conversation? No trickery in phrasing. No... putting us to sleep for a million years, or something.”

“No, no. Protection and food for honest conversation both as would be offered by a true human. It hardly costs me even that much, deary, but yes. That’s what I want.”

“We accept your terms,” said Jon with such formality that John snorted.

With a flourish and puff of scented steam, Auntie Em produced what was in her oven (not bothering with hot pads), and placed it on the table between them.

“Lasagna?” said Martin, baffled.

Arthur gasped. “I was… how did it…”

What’s lasagna? said John.

“It’s this dish Mrs. Russo used to make for us,” said Arthur. “I haven’t had it since university. It’s got layers of pasta, and sauce, and cheese, and beef, and pork.”

“It does smell amazing,” Jon admitted.

“Thank you,” said Martin, who knew how to charm wicked, powerful people. “We really do appreciate your generosity.”

She waggled her finger at him. “Don’t oversell it, deary. I could twist those words if I were in a bad mood.”

“But you’re not in a bad mood, are you?” said Martin. “Not with a sparkle like that in your eyes. I swear, you don’t look a day over a thousand.”

Arthur stared in his direction, startled. “The fuck!”

Auntie Em cackled. “He meant it as a compliment, deary, acknowledging both my intelligence and my immortality. Clever boy!”

“He is, at that,” said Jon, and squeezed Martin’s leg under the table. “And one hopes he’s a little less clever before he enchants something.”

“As if I’d want a Web-touched servant,” she said, and began serving them big scoops of lasagna onto their plates with a wooden spoon. “Couldn’t mind my own business, could I? Always be scheming something, wouldn’t he?”

Arthur looked lost. “Web?”

Later, said John.

“I have extra bedrooms,” said Auntie Em. “But I want some answers in return.”

“I don’t suppose you also have a shower,” said Martin.

“Well, I did. Now, I have a claw-foot tub.”

“Good enough,” said Martin.

“You’d have to pump the water and bring it in with buckets,” muttered Jon, “and I’m not letting you outside while those things are out there.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t care about him,” said Auntie Em. “Besides, I can give you soap and steaming-hot basins of water in your rooms if your answers are interesting enough.”

Arthur was already eating, chowing down, breathing around the heat of it.

The sounds John made were indecent. Oh, you were right about this stuff.

“Do you know which Earth you came from?” said Auntie Em.

“Which Earth?” said Martin. “I mean… I think we came from two different ones, maybe? We certainly came from different times.”

“Colloquially, we’re from Earth 5-28-46b,” Jon muttered at his fork before biting.

Martin blinked at him.

“Sorry,” murmured Jon. “Just knew.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, that is interesting; an ended Earth!”

“It didn’t end. We saved it,” Martin said, a little sharper than he wished. “At great cost, I might add.”

“No, we didn’t,” whispered Jon.

Martin stared at him again.

She seemed delighted by this. “Sweet tea?”

“S… sweet tea?” said Martin.

“Mm,” said Arthur. “Yes, please!”

“Now, that’s an enthusiasm I can get behind,” she said. “Yes, deary, that Earth ended.”

Martin shuddered. Swallowed. “Right, so we’ll talk about that later,” he said with inimically false brightness, and dug in.

“You didn’t come from that Earth,” said Auntie Em. “Poor little blind boy and your interesting passenger. No, you didn’t; not theirs.”

“Really?” said Arthur. “I thought we were just… earlier than they were.”

“I’d suspected as much,” said Jon. “We didn’t have gods like you did, and you didn’t have gods like we did.”

“Good for us?” said Arthur, who wasn’t sure it mattered. “What was the difference?”

Later, said John.

They were piling up quite a few topics of discussion for later.

Martin startled pretty badly at the taste of sweet tea, but stayed polite.

“Which Earth was his, deary?” said Auntie Em to Jon.

It only took him a moment. “378-42-9,” he said. “Alpha.”

“Oh! The one where you had a tiny Shub-Niggurath,” said Auntie Em. “So deeply strange! Everyone was talking about it.”

“Tiny?” blurted Arthur. “That thing… just its children were enough to make anyone insane!”

“Any human, deary,” said Auntie Em, “and that is a fairly small experimental group. She was small enough to die, which she isn’t always.”

Arthur looked stunned.

“You’re handy,” said Auntie Em to Jon again. “Know quite a lot, don’t you?”

Jon took his time chewing and swallowing before replying. “Some things. But there’s always more to learn.”

“A good answer. So, little blind boy, tell me why you have a piece of H'aaztre inside you.”

Arthur choked.

“Easy,” said Jon, patting his back.

“That name again,” said Martin.

“Coming out swinging, aren’t you?” muttered Jon.

“Well, to be frank,” said Auntie Em, “I’ve seen plenty of pieces of gods before, but never one quite like this. You aren’t normal.”

A pause.

Me?

“Yes, you, deary.”

Uh. John clearly hadn’t expected to be addressed. I’m just me.

“He’s made choices,” said Arthur in a tense voice. “Good ones.”

“No need to get your hackles up,” said Auntie Em, sounding amused. “You can’t blame me for being curious, especially given where you’re headed.”

Arthur felt like all the warmth left his body in a rush, replaced with cold water. “What?”

“You’re headed toward the cities, aren’t you? I’d assume so, or you’d have hunkered down and made a home like I did,” she said.

“What does that matter?” said Arthur, low.

“Well, who do you think runs the cities down here, hm?” said Auntie Em, grinning like the hag she was, her teeth abruptly gone brown and misshapen, even though Arthur couldn't see them. “Who did you think has enough force of will and imagination to tame any part of the Dark World beyond their front porch? Only gods could do that.���

“Gods are here?” blurted Arthur.

“Gods are everywhere. Like cockroaches. You can’t get rid of them,” she said cheerfully. “Why do you think I live way out here, eh? Not for my health!” She cackled.

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Did you know?” he said, which could be directed toward any of his companions.

I… I didn’t remember.

Jon frowned. “Not until she said that.”

Arthur had lost his appetite. “Are you telling me the King in Yellow is in charge of one of those cities?”

“I am! Since we’re having honest conversation. Seconds?” she asked again.

“I’m full-up,” said Martin quickly. “Jon?”

“Thank you. I'm satisfied.”

“I’m not quite yet,” said Auntie Em. “One more question for these poor old ears, if you don’t mind.”

“Just one?” said Jon, suddenly suspicious.

“Yes, just one,” she said. “What will you accept in trade for this little piece of a god?”

Jon startled. That had not been addressed to him.

“Nothing!” said Arthur.

“Really?” she said. “There’s nothing you want?”

“No!” said Arthur, defiant.

“Then why are you heading toward the cities?”

Silence.

“You promised honest conversation, deary,” she said to them all, and if the farmhouse creaked as if in a strong wind, perhaps it was coincidence.

It wasn’t Jon’s to tell. Martin didn’t know all the details.

Arthur swallowed. Silent.

Arthur…

“No. Nothing. There’s nothing I’d trade.”

“If you’re going toward the cities,” said Auntie Em, gathering plates with quick efficiency, “there’s something or someone there you need. And given the nature of this ridiculous place, there are only two types of beings who are always to be found in cities: gods… and children.”

Silence.

Auntie Em sighed. “You’re trying my patience, deary.”

“Why do you need to know this?” said Jon.

“Who wouldn’t want gossip regarding a weird little piece of a god?” said the hag. “I’ve been alive for a very long time—no, don’t you get pedantic with me,” she said as Jon opened his mouth. “I’ve never seen a piece of a good do this.”

“Do what?” challenged Arthur.

“Grow.”

They all stared at her, or in her direction.

“Grow?” said Arthur.

“What do you want in the cities?”

Arthur’s lip quivered. Pain twisted his face; for a moment, he seemed aged, anything but strapping and stubborn, and he hung his head. “My daughter.”

“Was that so hard?” said the hag. “Dessert?”

“Um, thank you,” said Martin. “But I really think we all ought to retire now, yeah?”

“A good idea,” said Jon. “Arthur?”

Arthur took a moment.

His left hand rose as if on its own and cupped his face, gentle. You’re all right, Arthur. She knew because it’s that common a thing. You’re all right.

Arthur inhaled as though he’d forgotten how (which he did not need to do, but the symbolism of it mattered) and looked like himself again. “I… yes. Sorry, I… yes.”

“Right behind you. Bedrooms all. Enjoy,” said the hag, and threw the rest of the lasagna out the back window, where unseen creatures that might be pigs ate it with terrible sound.

#

Each room had a single bed.

Martin refused to consider splitting up more than they already were. “We’ll make it work. Besides, you’re like… a stick.”

Jon laughed. “Fine.”

“Night,” said Arthur, and closed his door.

“Is he all right?” said Martin, soft.

“He’ll have to be. Tonight…” Jon sighed. “We’ll all be offered things tonight. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Martin murmured.

“Hardly matters now. We’re locked in,” said Jon.

“Really? We couldn’t just… leave?”

“No. We’d find ourselves back in the house the moment we walked through the door. Until morning—for whatever value of that word—comes, we’re stuck.”

“I don’t think I like the Dark World,” said Martin loftily.

“I’ll be sure to lodge a complaint with management,” Jon said.

“Wh… can you do that?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Well, I didn’t know, I mean, you’re a god now, or whatever.”

“That doesn’t mean I know management, whoever or whatever that is, whose attention I really don’t want to catch!”

Martin laughed and kissed his cheek. “Like a spicy kitten.”

“You're impossible,” Jon pronounced, smiling again, and they got ready for bed.

#

Arthur?

Arthur said nothing, using the basin and soap and steaming water provided to clean himself.

Arthur.

“I just don’t like it, okay? I don’t like that she asked that.”

Nosy.

“No, there was purpose behind it. And calling you gossip…”

I am gossip, apparently. I don’t know.

“I’m worried, John. That’s all.”

If I were anything to talk about, those monsters would be coming after me, too.

“Maybe they just haven’t spotted you yet,” murmured Arthur. “After all, you’re hidden in me, not just… laid out there like an eyeball on the ground.”

Lovely image.

Arthur sighed. “Goodnight, John.”

John knew when arguing with Arthur would get nowhere. Rest well, Arthur. See you when you wake.

#

John didn’t sleep. He couldn’t; he had no idea if that was due to godhood or being a piece or sharing a body or whatever, but he couldn’t sleep. Even Arthur’s coma had been damned near interminable, lying awake and helpless for over a month.

So all of that meant this couldn’t be a dream.

It was a woman with black hair and pale skin; she was lovely. She smiled, and John felt like he knew her, but couldn’t place her at all.

He couldn’t seem to think about anything else. Hello, he said, smooth and chocolatey.

“Hello, Great Old one,” said the woman, her own voice as syrupy as his. “Feaster From Afar. Him Who Slept Beneath. The King in Yellow.”

Yes. Yes, that’s who he was. He felt preened, admired. What do you here, graceful one?

“I wish to make you a trade,” she said, and her gown (its edges fading into blue mist) rippled around her slender form. “Something you want very much for something I want very much.”

Of course, said the King in Yellow, because that was what supplicants came to him for.

“In return, I will make him happy,” she said, and gestured.

For one blank moment, John didn’t know who him was.

Arthur. It was Arthur, sleeping there, curled on his side and vulnerable. Arthur, beautiful and imperfect, to whom the King had clung even as he died. To make him happy… What do you want in return to make him happy?

“Come to me. Join me. Be one with my body, and I will ensure his happiness forever in this place.”

Oh! Quite an invitation. Well, that was…

Something about it was off. How will you make him happy?

“I’ll give him what he wants: his child.”

Something was still off. And when I come to you, join with you, what happens?

“You will rule your kingdom as you are meant to rule,” she said, which was of course what he’d do, but something was still off.

Where will Arthur be?

“With his daughter.”

I want Arthur to be with me.

“He will be with his daughter.” She was soothing, alluring, patient.

Not with me?

“He will be happy—happier than you’ve ever seen,” she said.

And though John couldn’t really feel the places where he and Arthur entwined, he felt them, felt his entanglement tighten, like knots pulled so tight that distinct threads torqued into one mass. I want Arthur.

“Even if he is unhappy?”

I will make him happy. I am the King in Yellow.

“Not without me, little one,” she said, and he feared, horribly, that she was right.

What if it was? Was he being selfish?

“You are being selfish,” she said, playfully, and wagged her index finger.

He looked at Arthur. Asleep. Vulnerable. Beautiful. Imperfect. Messy. Ridiculous.

It didn’t take much thought. Not much thought at all. I am selfish. It’s my right, as the King in Yellow. I will keep him, even if he wouldn’t be as happy… and I will find a way to make him happy.

She sighed. “As you wish, you silly little fool.” And with those sharp words, the bubble of the dream popped, and John remembered everything.

He gasped, left arm flailing, startling Arthur awake, who sat up, his own hand in a fist, ready to deflect blows.

It’s all right! Arthur! We’re all right. I… it’s okay! Nothing’s attacking us. Breathe!

“Nothing… what… fuck,” said Arthur, shaking. “Fuck!”

That didn’t sound like just-woken-up-Arthur. Arthur. Did you… dream?

“Like he said,” said Arthur. “She came to me. She… she offered. She offered, in trade for you, she…” He started crying, a weary and weak sound, and folded over his own lap, hiding his face in his hands.

John didn't need to ask what was offered. He knew.

How many times was Arthur going to choose him over her? How many times… could he? When would the final time, the too-much time, be reached?

John held him, trying to stay calm, trying to forget the things he’d learned about himself when he’d forgotten who he was. Selfish. What a choice to have made…

#

Jon woke with a start.

It was dawn. Well, dawn in appearance, anyway, and the light through the warped-glass windows was lovely, if weak. Martin wasn’t behind him, though, and he sat up.

Martin sat at the foot of the bed, staring off at nothing.

Jon inhaled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Martin wiped his face, still not turning around. “I’m going to be.”

Jon’s heart (or whatever he really had in there) beat like a war drum. Was this the hag’s offer? Why couldn’t he remember being offered anything? “Martin?”

“I… I need a minute, okay?” Martin said, just a pinch sharply, and stood. His face was red and swollen; he’d felt like he’d cried for a while, and so he reflected that, as close as memory allowed. “I need a minute.”

Jon stared.

Martin sighed. “It’s not… all your fault. We’ll talk about it in the van. All right?” And he walked right out of the room.

#

Jon cleaned himself up, giving Martin time to process or pace or whatever he needed to do. The water was still hot, and the soap refreshing. Their clothes were cleaned; he hadn’t remembered asking for that, but maybe one of them had assumed it would happen, so it had.

Finally, he peeked around the door.

Martin sat at the table with the hag, talking low over steaming cups of tea.

There was no chance to eavesdrop. She gestured to him. “Come on, now! Come along. Don’t leave us waiting.”

Jon felt weirdly guilty as he approached, as if he were late to a meeting. Arthur was already in there, standing by the enormous stove, sipping from another teacup. “Um,” said Jon.

Martin turned and managed a smile, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “Ready to go?”

“Sure?” said Jon. “Are you—”

“Thank you,” said Martin, rising. “Best of luck out here.”

“Oh, I don’t need luck,” she said. “Between fantasy movies and fairy-tales recycled again, I have all the fuel I need.” And she winked.

Martin left. Just left.

Ahead. A little to your—there you go.

Arthur kept his head down as he left, too.

Jon stared after them. “What happened?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t get to you,” she said mildly, hands on her little white teacup. “I didn’t realize what you were. That would’ve changed things quite a bit last night.”

Jon took a step back. “You… you didn’t?”

“No. Nor would I have, really.” She sipped her tea. “There hasn’t been a new god in at least ten thousand years, and your projected appearance of an 'just an avatar' is very good.”

Jon swallowed; his mouth tasted bitter. “I…”

She waved her hand. “What’s done is done. I assumed the maggots were all after our little golden friend, but no… they’re after you. I’ve got to say, you fooled me. I didn’t know what you were, though they did. The maggots went for your window all night.”

Just an avatar? “You couldn’t… get to me?”

“To make my offer,” she said. “So I thought I’d do it now: safety for Martin in exchange for your blood.”

Oh, this felt like a terrible thing. “I don’t have blood.”

“Don’t be pedantic.”

“Pedantic is very much who I am,” Jon snapped. “And I don’t understand what you’re offering.”

“He can be hurt. You know that.” She looked at him, and through the rising steam (surely more than there’d been), her eyes flared an unnatural, pupilless blue. “You know he can.”

“Are you threatening him?” said Jon, low, feeling like his skin was crackling with static.

She snorted. “Of course not. Do you think I want you to hurt me? I simply understand what I see. He’s one human soul, without a life-line like a piece of a Great Old One inside him, traveling across a land he should instead hide from. He can be hurt. I offer you protection for him in exchange for a bit of your essence—which, like blood, will grow back. No permanent harm to you. A valuable trade for me. Something we both want out of it.”

Fuck, thought Jon, who’d forgotten in all of this that she could tempt him with things he’d want. “I know better,” he said slowly. “You always get the upper hand in deals.”

“Do I?” she said. “Or is that merely your fear?”

“I know this archetype,” he said, more firmly. “Of course I want that! Of course it seems like a good trade! But I know it isn’t!”

She tilted her head. “Let’s just hope no one gets wind of him as you travel. What a weak point! Those maggots are too stupid to try a hostage situation, but larger things might. A new god… you’re very interesting, Jonathan Sims.”

“Are you threatening to tell people?” he said.

“No,” she said. “Like I said—I have no interest in upsetting a god, and I've no doubt you'd hurt me. I’m merely offering before someone more… opportunistic comes along.” She smiled. The steam dissipated, and her eyes went back to faded gray-blue, sweet and smile-lined. “Pity. I would’ve loved to offer things to you in your sleep, but…” She shrugged.

“You couldn’t? What does that mean?”

“I’m not strong enough to penetrate your mind,” she said.

“Unless you have,” he said, “and this isn’t happening.”

This was the first real laugh he’d heard from her, he knew. Genuine; a slightly inhuman guffaw, almost surprised. “You are paranoid!”

“I’m leaving,” he said, face hot, and hurried for the door.

“Good luck,” she said.

She said… like Jonah.

He heard it.

He knew she knew, and wasn’t sure how, if she’d supposedly not gotten into his head.

It had to be coincidence, or she was lying. Hadn't it?

Martin was in the van, gripping the wheel, staring ahead grimly.

Arthur was waiting. “Everything all right?”

“I… hope so?” said Jon.

He snapped at us.

“Martin snapped at you?”

“Said to keep our distance,” said Arthur. “Bit unusual.”

Jon’s stomach felt like lead. “I’ll… see what I can do.”

“Sure,” said Arthur, and climbed into the van’s back.

Jon slid into the front passenger seat and peered at Martin.

Martin started the van. The gas gauge said full. Without a word, he started driving.

“That way,” said Jon, pointing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Martin, soft.

“What?” said Jon.

“That our world ended.”

Jon sighed, exasperated. “I thought… wh… it didn’t come up. I didn’t hide it from you!”

“It feels like you did.” Martin’s hands on the wheel were white-knuckled.

“I didn’t,” Jon said softly. “We knew it was a possibility.”

“But I thought we went somewhere,” Martin said. “And left it alone. We died, and took the Fears with us, or whatever.”

“Fears?” whispered Arthur.

Later, said John.

Jon’s sigh was slow and heavy. “Our world died and it didn’t. It split; we made a new timeline—one with the wreckage of what I’d done, and one that was… dead. Empty.”

“What… everybody died?” Martin said, tense.

“Yes. We all went through the Web’s stupid portal, and it was too much. No one survived.”

Martin wiped his face. He drove.

He drove.

Something unseen bumped fruitlessly into the side of the van.

He still drove.

“What was the point of any of it, then?” Martin suddenly said. “We did it to save the world!”

“A version of it lived,” said Jon. “And… the point was to try.”

“If we’d done it their way right off, would it have still died?” he said, and his voice was ice.

Jon wanted to say he didn’t know. He shouldn’t know. It was a hypothetical. But… he did know. “No. It wouldn’t.”

Martin swallowed. “So you damned the world. Really. Your choice, not Jonah’s.”

“Yes.” There was no use playing around it. “I… she miscalculated.”

“She.”

“She’d always planned for us to go in the portal. You know that,” said Jon, because they had talked this bit out. “Her escape was always the plan. You… doing what you had to do, to stop me, was part of that plan. I’m the one who wasn’t.”

“You’re the one who—what the fuck does that mean?” Martin said, and was close to shouting.

“It means the Eye truly loved me in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and when I chose to die at your hand, chose to go through that portal to whatever new world… I was too powerful. Instead of a cannonball breaking the surface of a water, it was an ocean liner.”

“That simile makes absolutely no sense, Jonathan Sims, and I know you can do better.”

Jon sighed. “So this is what she showed you last night?”

Martin paused. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “She offered to send me home. To the living version of our world. But without you.”

“What?” said Jon, sitting up. “How was that a trade?”

Martin was silent.

“Don’t make me know this,” Jon said. “Please just tell me!”

“She offered to send me back, alive—which is a thing she can apparently do—without any memory of you.”

That was the trade?

The van began to list, tires straining, as if carrying a poorly balanced load, too heavy for the shocks on Jon’s side.

“So… so you…” Jon started.

The van lurched.

“What the fuck is happening?” said Arthur, thudding back against the inside wall.

Martin hit the brakes and they stopped, the van tilted precariously, as if somehow Jon’s heart had translated into real, physical weight.

Martin stared at him. “Are you… don’t be stupid! No, Jon, you’re not listening. I…” He stopped and sighed. “I phrased it really badly. Let me try again. Okay? Stop. Whatever… whatever this is, stop.”

Jon just stared at him, owlish.

“What she offered me was your freedom,” he said. “All right? You… you without some stupid human to drag around, and to protect, and care for. You… you getting to become whatever it is you’re supposed to be—maybe with your own cities, or whatever—and the bonus was me not having to remember anything, because I damn well…” His voice choked up, and he stopped. Tears fell. He wiped at them, angry. “Because I wouldn’t want to live without you like that, so it was supposed to sweeten the deal. And I was mad because she made sure I knew our world was dead, so she’d be sending me to some alternate place. Some… some parallel world, or something. I was mad because you didn’t tell me. I wasn’t… oh, gods, I’m an idiot, of course that’s what you thought.” Martin grabbed Jon’s hands between his own. “I’m sorry I said it like that. Of course I don’t want to trade you. She offered me your… I don’t know, glorification, or something, whatever you’re meant to be, and as a side-benefit, I wouldn’t have to hurt over it. That’s all.”

The Mystery Machine slowly righted itself as he spoke, and finally was back to level.

Jon exhaled. “Of course. I… I’m sorry. I know you better than that. I don’t know why I jumped to that conclusion. I’m so sorry.”

“The hag can make people live again?” said Arthur, sitting up.

“Never for a good price,” Jon said. “Martin… she offered me your protection if I’d give her some of my essence.”

Martin blinked at him. “The same deal.”

“I suspect it was the same deal, yes. So you’d lose yourself… your mind, damaged.”

“And she could probably… control you, or something, with your… essence.”

“She called it blood, but I don’t have any.”

“Well, I don’t have tears, either, but here we are,” said Martin, smiling weakly.

“That means people can be sent back to live,” Arthur said, more loudly.

I was. You know it’s possible.

“Yes, but you’re a god! I mean just… people!”

There are… occasions. But rare. Usually they come back wrong.

Arthur set his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest. “What would the price be?”

From her? Too high. Calm down, Arthur. We have time to find solutions. This isn’t one of them.

Jon sighed, then managed a very weak laugh. “I think you were right? This was a bad idea.”

Martin snorted. “The magical culture-surpassing immortal hag was a bad idea? Wherever did you come up with that one?”

“Late to the party, as always,” said Jon, and leaned into him.

Martin clung. Clung. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean that the way it all sounded.”

And Jon thought that even if Martin had, he was choosing to stay with him. Choosing to love him. Even if Martin had meant it in anger, he meant this now.

It was still more than he ever thought he’d have. And definitely still more than he deserved.

“Surprised the Web,” Martin said softly. “Bet she’s pissed about that.”

“She is,” said Jon. “Downright stroppy.”

“Fuck her.” Martin kissed Jon’s forehead. “Let’s go. Which way?”

Jon pointed. “I… I just know.”

“I don’t doubt you.” Martin drove.

Arthur stayed quiet for all of five minutes. “I think it’s time we all got a little deeper into one another’s backstories.”

“It is.” Jon swallowed. “So you want to know about the Fears.”

John made a shuddering sound. Horrible things.

“I do,” said Arthur. “Explain.”

That wasn’t going to be easy. Jon suddenly yearned for Gerry Keay’s ease of chatter. “Let me pull my thoughts together and I will.”

“I’ll wait.”

Martin drove.

For a long while, there was only silence.

Notes:

Just for fun, a quick glimpse inside Dorthy Gale's house.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives crossover #malevolent #malevolent au #dark world malevolent #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #arthur lester #john malevolent

[dmclemblems]

like bruh i been compilin’ some stuff for the miklan lore like screenshots and all?

and i just

im so glad i was right and that all my headcanons were true and ended up happening in this game

and it proves to me that miklan was a product of his surroundings and how terrible his family life was

he got disinherited first, and then his dad and step mom fucking sucked and couldn’t get along and according to sylvain weren’t even good parents and sylvain didn’t just say to miklan, he said it in general. nobody was paying attention to either of them and miklan was angry at what happened so he took it out on sylvain BUT MATTHIAS HAD TO GO AND TAKE THE GOLD MEDAL AWARD FOR BEST PARENTING and NOT EVEN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

like yeah you heard it here folks

HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING

UNTIL IT EVENTUALLY GOT SO BAD THAT HE DISOWNED HIM

LIKE

BRUH U RLY GONNA WAIT UNTIL IT GETS THAT BAD TO DO SOMETHING? YOU COULD’VE EVEN SENT HIM TO LIVE WITH ANOTHER NOBLE TO STRAIGHTEN THE PROBLEM OUT, LIKE, YOU KNOW, THE PROBLEM YOU CAUSED

BUT NOOOO HE’S TOO BUSY FIGHTING WITH HIS WIFE

WHICH MIND YOU LIKE NOT ONLY DID MIKLAN’S BIRTH MOTHER DIE BUT NOW HE’S SEEING HIS DAD MARRY THIS NEW CHICK WHO NOT ONLY ISN’T HIS MOTHER AND IS THE MOTHER OF THE CREST BABY SYLVAIN, BUT THEY JUST FUCKING FIGHT. SO NOW ALL HE SEES IS BAD INFLUENCES IN HIS LIFE THAT SEEM TO CONGRGATE AROUND SYLVAIN’S EXISTENCE

like nah im not saying matthais is the scum of the earth and that he’s the worst man in the whole world bc he’s not and he’s good to his king and his friends and all that

he’s just a horribly pathetic father and should never have been a father no ma’am no sir he cannot parent like this isn’t a gustave situation where he left his family out of guilt but always thought about his family and wrote letters he couldn’t bring himself to send. this isn’t like gustave where he loved his family to pieces but felt like he didn’t deserve them/their love

this is a DUDE WHO JUST AIN’T MEANT TO BE A PARENT

AND MIKLAN NEEDED SOMEONE TO STEER HIM IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION AND DIMITRI FUCKIN’ DID THAT HE FUCKIN’ DID THAT Y’ALL DIMITRI SAVED A MAN FROM CONTINUING TO LIVE THE LIFE HE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO LIVE

AND HE HAD NO CHOICE BECAUSE HE WAS DISOWNED AND KICKED OUT BECAUSE HE DID BAD THINGS BECAUSE NOBODY TAUGHT HIM ANY BETTER OR PAID ANY ATTENTION TO HIM AND PEOPLE JUST DIDN’T CARE ABOUT HIM

MIKLAN IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SURROUND SOMEONE IN A TRASH ENVIROMENT AND THEN KICK THEM OUT TO LIVE IN THE TRASH

BUT THEN, HE’S STILL A PERSON, HE’S STILL A HUMAN BEING AND IF YOU INVOLVE ONE WHOLE SINGULAR DIMITRI IT FIXES A WHOLE LOTTA SHIT AND DIMTIRI CAN TURN LIVES AROUND AND MAKE THINGS OKAY FOR PEOPLE WHO OTHERWISE HAD NOTHING

what im saying is miklan is a very good character and not only is he someone who grew up poorly because he was raised poorly (if really even raised at all after his mother died since we don’t know if his mother was good to him or not but either way he lost her so it would still be a huge blow to how he’d turn out, bc either she wasn’t there for him either or she was and he lost the only good thing he ever had), but he’s someone who could be saved and turned to a better path if someone just F U C K I N G C A R E D.

someone who wasn’t sylvain tho bc sylvain’s existence is what caused all his problems and for a kid who wasn’t taught any better i mean obviously he’s gonna look at sylvain and be like it’s his fault all this happened like nah it’s your dad and step mom’s fault this all happened to you and they don’t deserve to be parents and i rly wish you and sylvain had been adopted into another family bc your lives both sucked

but also it’s very good of sylvain to give him another chance and still want to get along with him

psa don’t let me talk abt miklan bc this is what happens and i’ve bottled this up for three years and now bc of three hopes well i may as well just let it go boom

#Three Houses #Three Hopes #Three Hopes Spoilers #Miklan #so yeah this is a thing and this is what happens when i rly wanna talk abt a character but like #ppl legit hated him for a while and i even heard there was this one roleplay group that existed once #that they literally banned him as a character which i mean that's just stupid anyway bc u gotta have chars who #bring some kinda conflict like wtf is point if everything is just peachy in a roleplay group #but for real people legit hated him that it would've been harder to defend him than it has been for gilbert!!!!!!!!!

[lornahansonforbes]

Late last night, I was watching an episode of “Vera” (DCI Vera Stanhope). The episode is called, “Parent Not Expected.” It hit me.

In a specific moment in the episode, one character talks about meeting the newborn baby and that magical moment. Whether you’re the biological or foster parent, it’s a moment you’ll never ever forget. Trust and believe. I was there when my foster son was born and then I met him. That moment in the episode and in real life, it was a moment I’ll never ever see again but if you know, you know. So…there I was, 26 and I was ready to step up for him and his mother, my former girlfriend (not that kind of girlfriend). First steps, first words and so many little things. Then about 8 1/2 years later, I left. In retrospect, I’d believe that I had a man who loved me for sure. I eventually returned to my foster son and his foster siblings. So much happened. Yes ma’am, I hadn’t turned into a pillar of salt but I did look back and the devastation was fucking brutal. This where I take myself to task and put myself on Front Street. I put a landfill on my porch. There was no way of me dodging the raindrops and the acid rain. I know what went wrong. I left them. All of them resent me for leaving. As we all know so well, hindsight is 20/20. I made every attempt to make it right and sadly it go down like that. I made terrible mistakes and I’ll eat them all. I’ll happily eat that shit sandwich and I did. What went wrong, I was naïve and that fucking stupid to have believed Camille. She said that she and Michelle had talked about me and that they were of the belief that I had touched my foster son. As a survivor of Rape, I could not possibly believe I’d give that kind of pain to someone else especially when I called him my actual son at one point. He was and is still my world. The three of us had a horrible falling out. In June of 2006, just before my mother passed away, I saw him for the very last time and it was behind an inch of bulletproof glass at the local jail. As he sat on the other side of the glass, I broke down and had the ugly cry. I told him what happened. I also told him that I was so very sorry that I told him that I loved him as my own. Red Flags. Big Mistake. My mother died. I moved to TX. Then his mother, my Ex friend died. I remember the conversation. I told him succinctly: You have to make the decision. Do you want me to come back to you? If I do just that, you’ll get mad at me and if I don’t come back, you’ll get mad at me. Later that day, I had a prayer chain and asked for help and guidance. Nothing clapped back. I left a voicemail. I said I was sorry for being alive and I’m sorry for ruining everything. Now. Today. All these later, when I watched that scene in “Vera,” I know I am unable to make amends etc with my foster son or my other foster children. I fully understand and accept, acknowledge, affirm and I too concur, I should’ve been the one who died and Michelle should’ve recovered from Cancer and I’d be forgotten. I think about my legacy. As it pertains to that portion of my life, there are no happy memories from those days just deep horrendous scars from the emotional damage that I caused. I planned every devastating thing. I’m to blame. Like I’m the one who caused the war in Ukraine. I’m the one who murdered Queen Elizabeth. I helped Amber Heard. Yet none of my former foster children are guilty of anything. They’re as pure and innocent as the first snowstorm. Quiet. Unscathed. They all live near perfect lives. Good pious righteous folks unlike me, the Psalm Singing Hypocrite. As I get older, I understand that I was and I’m completely useless to them because I cannot make them love me as I once loved them. Though they’ll never take away my memories of me holding them for the first time and me wanting to love them no matter what happened. I caused this. I’m a Demolition Man. Yay for me.

#i-wrotethisforme #vomitingwords #thewritershandbook #wnq writers #bipolar depression #love #pity party

[ameliora-j]

happier than ever // hp x reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: breakup, talk of the war, angsty asf, i think that’s all but as always lmk loves! :)

a/n: based on happier than ever by billie eilish,, italics are flashback/song lyrics

a/n ii: i do NOT like nor do i promote billie eilish in any way at all. but the song is trending on tiktok and i thought it’d be a good fic idea

it was the biggest argument the two of you had ever had. the one that resulted in the end of your relationship. you regretted every single second of it. you knew that he was trying. that he just wanted to help. he was trying to make a better world for himself. for everyone. for you. for both of you. so you could have the future you always talked about.

but lately he wasn’t around. he had a lot of responsibilities, you understood that. but you were his girlfriend. and lately he wasn’t being much of a boyfriend. you tried to push it away when he called rain checks on your dates. or when he was late because it “slipped his mind.” or when, sometimes… he didn’t even show at all.

it was your final straw when he showed up three hours late for your anniversary dinner. it wasn’t even your true anniversary… that was two weeks ago. but he had missed that because he was at hagrid’s hut with ron and hermione. you pushed it off with a shrug and a small smile. no more than a “it’s okay harry, i promise. i know you have a lot on your plate right now,” as you kissed his cheek and retreated to your dorm for the night.

but that night… that night you just had so much pent up anger. you were sick of it, truthfully. and you flipped out. “why’re you so dressed up, love?” the question would usually have made your heart sink. but by now you were used to it. now you just scoffed. you were numb to the hurt of him forgetting.

“had an anniversary dinner with my boyfriend. but it seems like he forgot… again,” you spoke plainly.

“darling i’m so sorry you have to believe me,” he implored.

“it’s fine harry. really,” you shrugged as you blinked back your angry tears.

“we can… we can reschedule. tomorrow i promise,” he bit his lip hopefully.

“no. it’s fine,” you shrugged.

“okay. if tomorrow doesn’t work, we can try next week maybe?” he tried again. you shook your head again. “okay well if not next week then i’m not sure. i’ve got army meetings and ron, mione, and i have plans with hagrid. plus we’ve got the end of years coming up so i have to study. when do you want to reschedule for?”

“i don’t harry,” you answered, finally letting the dam break. two tears fell slowly down your cheeks. “i don’t want to reschedule. or try a different day because there won’t be one. it’ll just be the same thing all over again. you’ll be late. if you even care to remember that we have a date at all,” you spat bitterly.

“yn, i’m trying,” harry quickly became defensive at the venom spitting from your tongue. “i’m doing my best really, can’t you see that? i’m trying to save the world here, you’re not making it easy by being so clingy,” he spat ruthlessly.

“then let me make it easier on you, harry. you never have to worry about me again,” you offered a sad smile as you turned and began to walk away.

“you’re breaking up with me?” the sea-eyed boy was dumbfounded.

“yeah. i’m making saving the world easier on you. you won’t have to worry about a clingy girlfriend anymore. go do what you need to do and save the world harry,” you told him. “too bad you couldn’t save your relationship as well,” you sniffled as you retreated to your dorm.

it hurt you to leave harry. but you both needed it. two years of dating and an even longer relationship… and it just all went to shit. it exploded right before your eyes.

you spent the following weeks buried under your covers. sobbing your little heart out, when you weren’t in class. you knew what would come of breaking up with hogwarts’ golden boy and the savior of the world. the dirty looks. the whispers. however, what you didn’t expect… was for the whole wizarding world to hear about it.

what you didn’t expect was for the front page of the daily prophet to read in big, bold lettering: “THE BOY WHO LIVED: HEARTBROKEN.” you read through the article by rita skeeter and you were fuming. she had called you “cold” and “heartless.” and much, much nastier words that you couldn’t even repeat, all of which were completely untrue.

harry had made you out to be the bad guy, of course. the golden boy could never do anything wrong. you scoffed as you picked up the paper and stormed your way to the great hall. all conversation at the gryffindor had died down as their eyes locked on you, storming over to harry. “you LIAR!” you screamed as you roughly shoved his chest, throwing the paper down in front of him.

he raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the article. “i see no lies here,” he shrugged, causing ron, ginny, and hermione to stifle a laugh. you rolled your eyes at this. “you’re nothing but a cold. heartless. bitch,” he spat ruthlessly.

“as if! harry that’s you! you’re cold and you’re heartless! you don’t care about anyone but yourself, oh chosen one,” you spit right back.

“cold and heartless when i’m saving the world?” he raised an eyebrow as he scoffed.

“please cut your little bullshit ‘i the chosen one am saving the world’ ploy. it’s nothing but bullshit! neville could save the world just as well as you can,” you shook your head. “you’re nothing without your title harry. absolutely nothing,” you growled. you saw red. nothing but red. you were positively pissed. anger was the only thought processing in your brain. “you’re an entitled brat harry. who never sees himself in the wrong even when you break hearts.”

“then i guess we’re one in the same, aren’t we, yn?” he snarked.

“oh please. you wish harry. i don’t relate to you. i could never relate to you. cus i would’ve never treated me as shitty as you did,” you shook your head as you spoke. crossing your arms defensively as you prepared to tell the chosen one all about himself.

“i treated you so shitty and yet, i still work my ass off to continue to save your life along with everyone else on the planet. right,” he scoffed.

“cut your bullshit harry. stop with the savior of the world shit. you scared me half to death with all of the dangerous shit you did. you stick your neck out and swim oceans for people who wouldn’t even step over a fucking puddle for you! you think these people care about you? they don’t! you’re a pawn in their little war. that’s all you’ll ever be!” you scoffed again. “i don’t even know why i’m wasting my breath. you only ever listen to your fucking ‘friends’ anyway,” you put air quotes around the word as you forced yourself to keep your tears at bay.

“so what if i’m a pawn! i’m helping! you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter you’re entire life! you’d never know what this life feels like!” he shouted back.

“that’s your problem harry! you never see anyone’s problems but your own! you weren’t even aware of the fact that you made me miserable! for weeks you made me miserable. i couldn’t even tell if i still had a boyfriend or not!” you harshly rubbed your nose on the sleeve of your robe. “i wish it wasn’t true, but now that i’m away from you, i’m somehow happier. at least i know you don’t love me anymore instead of having to wonder every night,” you shook your head.

“we’re done yn! you made that very clear when you left me after forgetting one date! why do you care so much!” he yelled.

“because it wasn’t one date harry it was multiple! hogwarts was my home harry! and you made me hate this school!” you shouted.

“so what?! we’re over yn, i’m moving on and handling it in my own way! you should too!” his face was red and the vein in his neck was protruding. all eyes in the great hall—including those of the professors’—were on the two of you.

“no! cus i don’t talk shit about you all over the daily prophet or in school for that matter! i’ve never said anything bad about you!” you yelled at him.

“well why not? apparently you have every right to since i was such a horrible boyfriend for trying to make a better world for the two of us to have a future in,” he scoffed.

you rolled your eyes and decided upon not wasting your breath at his use of that defense yet again. “cause that shit’s embarrassing harry! you were my everything and all you ever did was make me fucking sad!” you rubbed at your nose again, nearly positive that the tip of it was now rubbed raw.

“i’m sorry that you feel like i was so terrible to you. i’m sorry that i couldn’t save our relationship like i saved the world like you said,” he shook his head.

“oh don’t try to make me feel bad harry! i have a whole laundry list of good and bad things about you. but at some point the good stopped outweighing the bad,” by now the inevitable had happened and tears had begun to spill slowly over your lash line.

“really? cus it sounds like you have nothing but bad things to say,” he snarked with a small scoff.

“i mean i could list all the times you showed up on time, but it’d be empty because you never did. you ruined everything good in my life, harry. and you always say you’re so misunderstood but you’re not! you’re just a heartless, selfish, asshole!” you shoved his chest roughly. “just fucking leave me alone! and keep my name out of your mouth,” you rolled your waterlogged eyes as you walked away.

once you were in the safety of your dorm, you let it all out. you slid slowly down the closed door and pulled your knees to your chest, releasing all the sobs you held in during your screaming match. your heart broke for the second time in less than a month. you choked over sobs as your stomach twisted in pained knots, matching the feeling of your heart thumping behind your ribcage.

your everything was gone. but somehow… you were happier than ever without him.

#harry potter x reader #marauders x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter angst #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #angst #hp fandom #hp #hp angst #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n

[redisaid]

So far this 9.2 stuff is turning out to be like a 3.5 to 4 star situation where I was expecting 0. And while I shouldn’t be happy about it hopping over a bar that was already so low, I apparently didn’t rant about it enough to friends last night, so here’s my take on the pros and cons:

Under the cut to spare your eyes...

Pro: RANGER GENERAL RANGER GENERAL!!! A whole ass piece of her soul is there now that is freshly dead from her first death holy fuck. Also that model is gorgeous and yes it’s not perfect, but the people analyzing it need to realize a few things: 1. This is an in game cut scene still, not a fully cinematic one, so calm down, 2. Warcraft’s style is chunky, overly colorful, and slightly disproportionate, always has been, 3. So much of the scene with her and Uther is a nod to them in Warcraft 3 and I’m pretty sure it’s not too much of a reach to say the models are meant to reflect that.

Con: The split souls thing is a bit tired. I mean we did get an idea from Uther’s arc that things were going to go this way, so I’m not surprised. She does indeed look like Ranger General Barbie...but hey that works for me.

Pro: Her first death is addressed in a surprisingly respectful manner! By fucking Uther of all people, who was not on my bingo card to be the person to do it, if ever, in lore. I was expecting to hate their interaction when I found out he’d be involved, but I...love it? He addressed that part of her so respectfully, one military commander to another--one pragmatic and practically-minded person to another? One person who died at the height of their goodness and fell far from there to another? I really didn’t hate it! And now I want them to be besties.

Con: The utter abhorrence of the tree burning better not make Sylvanas’ “good” half take over completely. I don’t think it will, but that would be very boring. She did good things as the Banshee Queen too, and I hope to see that somewhat addressed. Her rebellion for the Forsaken, using her contacts and clout to get them the protection of the Horde, and even her actions up to Legion, were all those of a leader doing their best to improve the (un)lives of their people. A ruthless military leader, but still--her “good” self was still a ruthless military leader as well?

Pro: Actually, let’s go to more of the above. I’m going to disagree with what I’ve been seeing some people say as “oh this just erases 15 years of her character development”, because I don’t think that’s the point of the cut scene? I think the point is to have this past version of her address all of it, and again I’m hoping we don’t just see the negatives and see her as an outcast now literally forsaken by everyone who once followed her alive or dead. Some of the leaked voice lines (besides the one I will choose to ignore for gay reasons) that came out just after this also seem to indicate she might talk to her sisters again? I really hope for that. But besides all that, this I think is the only way to appease everyone: to have her address she did some terrible stuff, but that she did it without half of her soul, and that it’s un-atone-able even with that knowledge, but that dwelling on war crimes in a world where everyone has committed a lot of them is pointless when there’s work to be done to save it? I dunno. I find it to be a bit ham-fisted, but a fair compromise for those who wanted her to pay and those who wanted her reasons to do what she did in the first place acknowledged. I don’t think we’re losing the Banshee Queen for the Ranger General. I think we’re getting both, and if nothing else, that’s interesting.

Con: Still, no one will be 100% pleased with this. There was simply no way to make everyone happy with this situation because of how far into a corner it was written already. This is about the best we can get from it and it’s not great, but it’s not horrible either. Again, the bar is low and it’s hard to clap for someone jumping over it, but at least they didn’t impressively limbo under it to the point of making it even worse?

Anyway, I have a lot of thoughts and actually look forward to seeing more of 9.2, even if it’s ham-fisted and they make my girl straight. I am a Warcraft 3 lore whore and this ticked all my nostalgia boxes so hard while actually respecting them and the character from them that I love so much, so I am so surprised to be positive about it overall, but here I am.

#ranting into the void #i just have a lot of thoughts and feelings #and i get why some people are unhappy about it too #but tbh this is about the best we could have hoped for #also fuck you to everyone who said she was always kind of shitty neener neener she was good #and hopefully acknowledges that even her quote unquote evil part did some good things too

[dracowars]

I was wondering if you can write one with harry for me? Where harry and reader are dating around when sirius died in order of the phoenix and harry is very depressed about the stiuation and slowly disassociates from the reader and when he/she wanted to talk about it and lighten the weight on his shoulders harry says sth to reader along the lines "you are not my family and you are not my home" and a big fight eventually harry realises what he has done and gets very upset bc he loves her/him so much. They eventually make up but i want drama and tears you know lol i will be very happy if you can write this!!

don't shut me out | harry potter

pairing: harry x gryffindor!reader

word count: 2,5k

summary: where harry shuts y/n out after sirius' death

a/n: my first harry one shot, yayy! thank you for sending in this request <3

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of death

universe: harry potter

"Please write an essay about the effects of the Anti-Paralysis Potion until next week", Professor Snape grimly finishes his lesson and immediately chaotic murmur breaks out in the classroom when all the other students pack up their things and leave for their well deserved break.

You on the other hand calmly close your book and slowly slide it into your bag before getting up from your seat with a sigh, but not without taking another look at the empty seat in front of you first.

Harry did not show up for class again today. This is the third time this week and even when he is in one of his courses, his mind is not there with him.

A week ago he returned to the common room, devastated, and Ron and Hermione even had to support him so he would not fall over. The only thing you knew at that time was that they were on a secret mission at the Ministry of Magic, but you did not know what a terrible disaster happened.

Harry did not exchange a word with you and went straight to bed that evening, leaving you behind confused and ignorantly until Hermione told you about the recent events. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and last living relative, was killed right in front of his eyes through his own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. While Hermione told you what happened, tears were already uncontrollaby streaming down your face.

You knew exactly how much he meant to Harry.

Now that Harry has also lost the last remaining member of his family, he has shut himself off completely, hiding from the world, from his friend and also from you. Any attempts to talk to him have failed, but you keep a close eye on him everyday.

If he does not shown up at dinner again, you bring him a plate full of his favorite food to his room, even if it is without his consent, just to find it barely touched in the morning. If he misses another of his lessons again, you always take even more detailed notes than usual that you later give him so he is able to catch up on what he has missed so far, just to watch the pile grow bigger and bigger.

Every time you enter his room, it breaks your heart when you have to see how your boyfriend, whose face has lost all color by now, looks at you with such sad eyes and cannot even utter a different word at you than a simple 'thank you'. It pains you to see him like this, but he won't let you get to him anymore, he won't let you or his best friends help him.

He shuts himself off the world completely.

"Ms. Y/L/N", Snape suddenly approaches you as you are about to make your way out of the classroom. You look up at your grouchy professor, full of expectation and also a little scared.

"Tell Potter if he does not show up for my class one more time, he will fail", he explains seriously and you can only nod while his cold stare is fixed on you. "Very good."

Turning around, you quickly run out of the door and meet Ron and Hermione in the hallway in front of it, waiting for you.

"What took you so long? I am starving", Ron asks you oblivious as you make your way through the crowd of students in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Snape held me from going. If Harry does not show up for class soon, he will fail in all of his courses", you mutter and your thoughts immediately wander back to him and how he is doing right now.

"Snape can't do that! Dumbledore will not allow it anyway. Everyone knows what happened and no one is this cruel", Hermione breathes out in shock.

"We are still talking about Snape, you know that, right?", Ron replies, only catching an annoyed look from her at his words.

"I will talk to Harry again. Well, at least I will try", you sigh exhaustedly and just before reaching the Great Hall, you leave your friends alone and run up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, entering it after saying the correct password.

Waisting no time, you walk up the stairs to the boys' dormitories and timidly knock on the door. Nothing, not a single sound comes from the inside when you knock a second time.

"Harry? It's me, Y/N. May I come in-"

"Get out!", his voice angrily shouts at you through the door and you back away in shock. There is so much sorrow in his voice, so much pain, so much fear.

So much hate.

"I am not going anywhere", you answer firmly and stand your ground before carelessly opening the door.

The sight that greets you when you enter lets your eyes widen to the maximum. The entire room has been demolished, your carefully written notes scattered in snippets on the floor, his books torn apart next to it and the whole furniture turned over.

And in the middle of it all there is Harry, breathing heavily, as emaciated as you have never seen him before, his hands clenched into fists, his fingernails already painfully digging into his palms. The expression on his face blank when his gaze meets yours.

Without saying a word, you slowly and carefully walk towards him, trying not to stumble over anything on the floor until you stand in front of him. And then you wait.

Wait for him to finally open up to you, wait for him to finally let everything out.

But he turns away.

"Harry", you breathe out barely audible and reach for his hand, which he pulls away in the last second, his eyes on the ground and his back to you.

"Go", he orders, now without any emotion in his voice.

Refusing to listen to his words and let him push you away another time, you circle him to stand right in front of him again.

"I said go!", he aggressively yells at you, but you are quick to catch his face between your hands and lift it up so he has to look at you, taking a good look at him while softly pressing your palms to his cheeks.

His cheeks are still damped from the numerous tears that have flowed over them, and his eyes are glassy, almost fragile.

"I am here for you", you claim in a low voice to not scare him away while you look deep into his eyes, in which you discover nothing but emptiness. "I can help you if you would just let me, Harry. Please don't shut me out."

For a brief moment there is silence, somehow pleasant and safe as it has always been between the two of you. In the next moment, however, your hopes are destroyed.

"I don't need your damn help!", he yells at you again and pulls away from you, running his hands through his hair desperately while you stay frozen in place.

You almost had him.

"You do need me! You can't just lock yourself up here for weeks, Harry!", you raise your voice as well, desperation evident in it.

"You can't tell me what to do!", he loudly shouts and the look he throws at you is again full of nothing but hatred.

"What happened to Sirius is horrible, but you have to move on some day and you can't do that if you do not talk to someone about it. I am your girlfriend and-"

"Exactly. You are just my girlfriend and not my family!", Harry angrily spits out all of a sudden, his words catching you off guard and you could swear how your heart has split into half right at this second. "You are not and never will be my home, get that into your head! I am sick of you, Y/N! How you pamper me like I am a fucking child and never know when to stop!"

"A-Are you serious r-right now?", you let out a trembling sob, the strength to scream at him gone when a tear rolls down your cheek. You look at him with complete disappointment, at the boy whom you love so much, who just hurt you so deep as you would have never imagined him to.

"Get the hell out of here!"

"Do you even hear what you are saying? You do not really mean that. Tell me that you do not mean that, Harry!"

"It is the only thing that I want", he grinds his teeth and you nod understandingly while wiping away your tears.

"Fine. If I can never be your home anyway, then I guess this is where it ends", you sniff and walk past him, your gaze lowered as you go out of the room and let the door slam shut behind you.

And he does not even follow you.

Deeply hurt and with a broke heart, you barely make it to your dorm room, where you slide down the closed door with your back and pull your knees close to your shaking body, weeping bitterly.

You do not know how long you sat there and just cried your eyes out, but when you hear Hermione's worried voice behind you, it is already dark outside and you missed all of your classes.

Exhausted, you let yourself fall into your soft mattress, hiding your tear stained face from your roommates, but of course Hermione immediately senses that something is wrong.

She approaches you carefully as to not frighten you and sits down next to you on your bed, stroking your back up and down soothingly, which in return only makes you cry harder into your pillow. After several minutes you finally manage to calm down and sit up.

Hermione looks at you speechless, does not urge you to tell her about what happened at all, but you do it anyway as it almost gushes out of you. And so you spend the whole night in your bed talking.

The next morning you are sitting in the Great Hall at breakfast, completely exhausted. While Ron allows himself another joke with Hermione, you stare down at your empty plate, your stomach not wanting to be filled.

"Did you finally got Harry back to his senses, Y/N?", Ron asks you out of nowhere, pulling you out of your deep thoughts, and you interpret a teasing tone in his voice.

Your eyes filling with tears in a matter of seconds, you abruptly get up and leave the hall, leaving a confused Ron and an angry Hermione behind as you run back into the common room and into your own room.

Again you let yourself fall to the floor behind the closed door, your arms crossed over your drawn up knees, your forehead resting on top. Without meaning to, your sobs get stronger by every second, shaking through your body while your breath speeds up to an unhealthy pace.

Your head and your heart just do not want to understand that what you and Harry once had is over, once and for all. That you will never wake up in his cozy, warm arms again. That you will never feel his tender touch again. And above all, that you can never look at him the same way you did before.

You lost him for good this time.

The sudden knock on the wooden door behind you causes your head to jerk up in surprise. Not sure if you just imagined it, you stay silent for a moment and hold back your crying.

Another gentle knock.

"Please leave me alone, Hermione", you sniff and lower your head again.

"Y/N", his voice sounds muffled from the other side unexpectedly and your heart leaps painfully.

You always loved the way he pronounced your name, how easily it slides off his tongue. Since your first meeting, back then on platform 9¾ where you immediately fell in love with him head over heels.

Speechless, you are unable to move or say anything, just blinking away your tears.

"I know that you are in there. I can hear you crying", he softly speaks to you through the door and finally causes you to get up from the ground and open the door with a swing.

"What do you want?", you calmly ask him, trying not to show the emotions going through your head right now, and avoid eye contact while playing with the hem of your sweater. It takes a moment for Harry to contain himself, the sight of your fragile figure like pure horror in his eyes.

A sight for which he is guilty. He alone did this to you.

After clearing his throat, he searchs for the right words to make everything alright again, to fix everything he said, anything just so he does not have to see you this devastated. However, there is not a single sound coming out of his mouth.

"If you have nothing to say, get out", you order with all your might and try to sound as serious and emotionless as possible, trying to hold back your rising tears.

At least until you suddenly end up in his warm, safe arms after he pulls you into a bone crushing hug before you could close the door on him. A hug you both needed more than necessary.

"I am such a stupid idiot", Harry whispers in your ear, also having trouble to hide his sadness. "You just wanted to be there for me and I pushed you away even though you could have given me exactly what I needed."

His words only make you more emotional and turn you into a crying mess, your face hiding in his chest. His hand slowly rubs over your back to calm you down. Your legs begin to tremble harder and Harry has to hold you upright with all his strength to not let you fall.

"I-I just could not accept that I was alone", Harry sighs as he listens to your sobs until you finally push yourself weakly away and stand in front of him, an arm's length apart.

"You are not alone", you choke out and Harry gives you a small, tender smile before closing the gap between you and gently placing his hand on your cheek. With his fingers he strokes the strands of hair out of your face that are already stuck to your skin due to the tears.

"I realized that too, sweetheart", he confirms and tilts your head towards him to leave a soft kiss on your forehead. "I can't erase what terrible things I said to and threw at you, but please believe me when I tell you that that I did not mean a single word. I just did not know how to move on and you were there to receive all of my anger.. Do you forgive me?"

"Only if you never shut me out like that again. I will always be here for you and take care of you, Harry. No matter what, I will stay", you answer, also with a tiny smile on your lips and when he returns it before connecting your lips you, the world around you suddenly becomes more colorful and bright again.

"I promise."

#harry potter #harry #harry potter one shot #harry potter os #harry one shot #harry os #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry fluff #harry angst #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry imagine #harry imagines #harry potter x reader #hp imagine #harry x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter ff #harry ff #harry fanficiton #harry fic

[dweetwise]

i’ve been kinda quiet while finishing a project over on ao3, but now i’m back with some riconti to share <3

ship: felix x ace (only implied; can be read as platonic if you wish!)

word count: 1640

Someone to Lean On

"—and I thought for sure she wouldn't pick me up! I ran straight into her after being unhooked, but she didn’t even hesitate calling my bluff. Well played, Spirit!"

Felix kept half-listening as Ace rambled on about their latest trial. They were walking back to the campfire together through the fog, having both been sacrificed by the ruthless katana-wielding killer.

It wasn't uncommon for Ace to wait around for him in the plane of nothingness if he didn't survive the trial. Felix had lost count of how many times he'd regained consciousness only to see the familiar, smiling figure calling over to him through the fog.

He wondered if Ace knew how much he appreciated the gesture. The gambler’s friendly banter was always a welcome distraction from the harrowing experience of having every fiber of his being torn to shreds and consequently be reassembled.

But this time was different. Felix could barely make out Ace's words, his own thoughts sounding deafening inside his head despite the silence of the fog. His body didn't feel like his own; it was like the Entity's claws were still twisting and turning around his insides. 

Felix’s feet dragged behind him and when they eventually came to a stop, Ace stopped right with him and patiently waited for their journey to continue. Only once Felix made no move to do so did the Argentine’s brilliant smile falter from uncertainty. 

"Felix?" Ace asked.

"I can't do it," Felix said.

According to people back at the campfire, it had been over a year since Felix was taken into this horrible realm. It felt even longer than that; with nothing in this world but means to make them suffer, Felix was starting to forget the things he used to enjoy.

"Sure you can, champ!" Ace grinned.

Felix knew Ace was trying to be encouraging. He knew he should go back to his play-act, should plaster on a fake smile and brush off his struggles as nothing more than a bad trial, like he’d done countless times before.

But he couldn’t.

"No," Felix said, a surprising determination in his voice. "You don't understand."

“What do you mean?” Ace asked.

Felix wasn’t sure how to describe it. The more he thought about this world and the absolute wrongness of it, the harder it was to pinpoint its exact cause.

He felt lightheaded and almost delirious. It was like he was in a dream; a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. Nothing in this place made sense, yet all this time he had accepted it as truth. What if it was all a figment of his imagination?

"Is any of this real?" Felix asked.

Ace’s smile made way for a confused frown, and his expression was the only thing in their surroundings that looked lifelike. The unnatural fog surrounding them felt neither damp nor cold, the unending darkness somehow allowed them to see perfectly, and even though there was nothing to guide them they still knew exactly which way to go.

Felix felt his breathing pick up as he only now seemed to realize the vast emptiness of nothing they were standing in. He’d been here countless times before but never fully aware of it, and his heart was racing as he frantically looked around, feeling the terror rising in his chest—

Until a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. 

"Hey, deep breaths," Ace said, turning Felix to face him.

The touch helped to ground him and the panic started to fade as Felix looked into familiar brown eyes. Ace felt real, but how could he be sure?

"It doesn't make any sense," Felix said. "The Entity doesn’t exist. It simply can’t."

Ace said nothing. Whether he was giving Felix space to speak or thought he’d finally lost his mind, Felix didn’t know.

"What if this is just a nightmare? What if I'm going crazy—having some sort of episode from work stress, and I'm really hospitalized in an institution?" Felix said, his frantic eyes finding Ace's. "What if I'm in a coma, or—or I died, and this is all my brain shutting down? What if this isn't real?"

Felix realized he was shaking. Ace looked at him silently; like he was pondering what to say. Felix didn’t think he’d ever seen him look so serious.

Abruptly, the embarrassment hit. Felix broke eye contact and stepped back. Even if he was losing it, he didn't need to drag Ace into this—

"So what?" Ace asked.

"What?"

"If you wake up in a hospital tomorrow and realize none of this was real, what does it matter?" Ace said. "It's not gonna change that this feels real."

Felix was silent, mulling over the words.

"I think that, sometimes, it's best to just take things at face value," Ace continued. "Fucked-up things like the Entity exist? Alright. One of them yoinked us into its world for fun? Sure. Whether we like it or not, right now we're stuck here—might as well try to make the most of it."

"Don't you want answers?" Felix asked.

"What I want is to get the hell out of here," Ace huffed dryly.

Felix couldn’t remember Ace ever talking about an escape before. The gambler had always seemed surprisingly well-adjusted to their predicament, but he should have known that even the most optimistic person would be eager for the chance to find a way out of this nightmare.

"But since that's not on the table, I'll take the next best thing of living to see another day," Ace said. "And if I wake up in a real bed tomorrow and it was all a dream? Even better."

"Have you never thought about it? That this could just be a product of your mind?" Felix asked.

"Briefly, yeah," Ace said. Then he smiled. "But then I remembered how shit my imagination is. No way I would've been able to come up with something like this."

Felix huffed out a dry chuckle despite the situation.

"But it's probably easier for me," Ace said. "I know you tend to overthink things. And with the kind of year you've had? I'm kinda surprised you've adjusted so well."

Felix hadn’t thought about it that way. After the numerous panic attacks and freezing from fear in his first trials, Felix never considered himself particularly well-adjusted to his new existence. He owed most of his meager success to the people around him, always there to lend a hand and pull Felix up when he wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

And most of the time, that person had been Ace.

"I had some help," Felix said, offering a hesitant smile.

"Ah, true—almost forgot about Élodie," Ace grinned. "Must be nice, having a friend like that in a place like this."

Felix didn't have the heart to correct the assumption. Having the familiar face of a childhood friend among their teammates had no doubt been beneficial for both Felix and Élodie while they learned to survive this new world.

But it wasn't Élodie who had been by Felix's side those first months. It wasn’t her encouraging words that got through to Felix when he felt paralyzed from inaction, or her who took the time to involve him in the group when Felix was too lost in his own head to participate.

"It really makes a world of difference, having a good friend," Felix said.

Ace kept looking at him, until his face spread into a bright smile at the realization.

"Well, in that case, can I offer you some friendly advice?" Ace asked.

"Of course," Felix agreed.

"Don't get too wrapped up in the 'how's and 'why's," Ace said. "It's just gonna consume you. And…"

Felix waited as Ace paused in an unusual gesture of uncertainty.

"I'd hate to lose you," Ace said.

He was still smiling pleasantly, but his eyes betrayed his real emotion; it was the first time Felix had seen genuine fear in Ace's eyes. And it wasn't from a brutal mori or the hopelessness that they might never escape.

It was from the possibility of losing Felix.

"Alright," Felix said. "I'll try."

"It's a start," Ace said, his demeanor back to the usual playfulness. "You ready to head back?"

Felix realized he felt much calmer now than only minutes prior. There was still an uneasiness in the back of his mind due to the unspeakable horrors that haunted them on a daily basis, but he felt grounded. This wasn't just about him; no matter whether it aligned with the objective truth, this was their reality.

"I think so, yes," Felix said.

"'Atta boy," Ace said. 

Ace's hand left his shoulder, and Felix immediately missed its warmth. The moment of camaraderie they had shared was exactly what he had needed. Even Ace seemed more at ease, his smile relaxed as he fell into step beside Felix.

"By the way," Ace said conversationally. "If this is all in your head, could I request you make it a little… I don't know, less guts and gore, more flowers and booze?"

Felix chuckled. "I can try."

"Oh, and while you're at it, can you give me one of those makeovers?" Ace said. "Make me like ten years younger? I think I’d look great in brown hair—ooh, and a six pack too!"

Felix listened to Ace ramble with a smile. It would never cease to amaze him how the seemingly lighthearted man could go from joking to serious and right back to silly banter in just a few short moments. Ace was like a bolt of lightning; chaotic in nature and gone in the blink of an eye, but always managing to calm the storm in Felix’s head.

"Ace?" Felix asked, interrupting Ace still talking about his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Felix said.

Ace’s smile flashed bright and warm in the darkness surrounding them.

"Anytime."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

[daddywright]

I have only recently got into the ace attorney fandom, and this story was the first story I read, and I feel spoiled! I absolutely loved every chapter, so I'm gonna word vomit here and tell you everything I love about this!

"She offers him a smile. It’s small, tentative, but it possesses a strength that makes a hidden part of him twist and burn with quiet envy." the first time we see nick's wish to be as strong as mia!

Considering the fact that nick didn't have any prominent figure in his life, it makes sense that he would look up to gregory so much

"Phoenix looks up, and starts walking towards Mia Fey

He doesn't stop for two years."

THE RELATIONSHIP THAT MIA AND NICK HAD WAS PRECIOUS AND DESERVES MORE THAN WHAT THE FANDOM GIVES THEM

"Larry’s arms wrap around him, squeezing almost too tight" People forget that Larry and Phoenix were good friends too, and Larry would help his best friend

"Nobody believed him, nobody but Mia" Maya is what Phoenix is to Mia and I adore that

"He wishes, desperately, that he’d said it while she was still alive. I loved you. For everything you did." Not you absolutely breaking my fucking heart

Also the first AA game felt unnatural in the sense of how seemingly unaffected Phoenix seemed at Mia's murder so I'm really glad you wrote it this way

"Expensive. Thoughtful. Too much." SHUT UP NICK YOU DESERVE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

Also quick break to mention how I absolutely fucking love your writing style and i wish I was literally half as talented as you cuz the last time I read something that made me feel this multitude of emotions was ocean vuong. And I practically worship Ocean Vuong. So now I worship you too

"You're a stranger to me // When will I stop hoping?" I never really realised just how badly nick musta been hurt by good ol' bratworth before this fic, but now that I have read it, it would have hurt him so bad

"Is this why you never answered my letters? Because I was a reminder? Because it hurt too much?" Honestly what happened to miles and phoenix's friendship hurts so much because it should have never happened, and miles didn't deserve that.

"Maybe Miles Edgeworth is not the man he thought he’d be, either." yo when I tell you this hurt I mean this huRT

Fun fact! My birthday is on the same day as DL-6 anniversary. Gregory Edgeworth died on my birthday. I feel horrible now

"monster. You were nine years old and he's a monster. " No one has made me feel this much emotion for what happened to Miles in a single sentence other than you. I commend you for that

"I love you," he says quietly. He has never said those words to anyone, except for Dahlia Hawthorne.

Maya sniffs in his ear, crushing him tight. "I love you, too."

He has never heard them back.

PHOENIX HAS NEVER HEARD THE WORDS " I LOVE YOU" COME BACK TO HIM ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME WHY NOW I'M SAD

"Tell me everything. Every detail—" Miles is worried bout nick and why wouldn't he? gods you're so gay miles but tbf if I knew someone like nick irl i'd go ballistic too

"He determined the motive for his own assault...with amnesia. Naturally." My man's smart af and he is king

"Is that what she thinks of me? That I'm like that? That I don't care about who the bad guys really are?" Gumshoe noooo you're hella precious! Also this particular chapter was so well written! loved this soo much!

Also taking a minute to appreciate the pacing! Rarely do I ever come across an author who just hits that sweet spot of perfect pacing and you did! so thank you!

Alright so here are a few thoughts that I felt capcom needed to do which you did for us!

no. 1 - Address the trauma phoenix faced with not only dahlia but also with mia's death

no. 2 - Actually fucking flesh out a good relationship dynamic between larry and phoenix

no. 3 - actually! have! phoenix! be hurt! in bridge to turnabout! istg my man would not have dropped from a burning bridge to a freezing river only to have a cold

AUNT FRANZY AND PEARLS MAN!

THEY CUTE

ok so I have a LOT of feelings for bridge to turnabout and HOO BOY BUCKLE UP

So I always thought that in this fic, miles must have felt fucking awful! I mean he very clearly hates who he was and what that has led to but that must have been doubled over with this case! Phoenix would have died if not for mia and it would have been indirectly miles's fault. I think about that alot

Like he said that he very much regrets whatever he did as bratworth in the phone call with gumshoe but i don't think he anticipated this. poor edgeworth

Also I think this was the final nail in the coffin for miles. Phoenix forgave him, after all the fucked up shit miles did, and that made that man go "how is this guy so fucking compassionate awwwww shit I'm in fucking love with this idiotic brave man".

my main thoughts were "holy shit phoenix must have been feeling awful." like to learn that you were in love with a person who turned out to be a murderer but then not a murderer cuz everything you felt about that was real and just...... it must have hurt. He never fell in love with dahlia. it was iris, always. and WHAT ABOUT MILES DURING THIS!!! Like to learn that the man you love was falsely led to believe that he was in love with a person he rarely met and then learn that his ex who is not murderous might still be in love with him because "that was real. that part was real." like damn. people just gloss over this

also I feel terrible for iris F in the chat for iris lads.

Dahlia literally haunting that courtroom scene. I felt mia's power. I felt her desperation. I felt everything and I am once again in awe of the absolute power your writing holds.

also godsdamn pearls had to go through all that shit huh. also FRANMAYAAAAAA THANK YOUUUU

I too, am a hoe confused as to what I should feel towards diego.

Ok anyways we jump to disbarment now

"He just winks at her and says Maya has other talents, and if Mystic Maya overhears, she puffs up at him like the fish from the aquarium she saw once, the one with all the spikes and silly eyes."

you know what constantly amazes me? your ability to change tones so effortlessly. When writing from edgey's pov, the language is sophisticated. precise. when writing from pearly's pov your language is simplistic, child-like. from phoenix's pov it's natural. grounded

"She never knew anybody who made faces like him, growing up in Kurain, and it’s one of the things that makes him special." Yo phoenix is the most amazing uncle ever and we all know it ok he's brilliant

I'M RUNNING OUT OF CHARACTER LIMITS

PEARLY CALLING EDGEY AT FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE I'M SOFFFFTTTT

“I think I did something really bad." trucy baby no it's not your fault

pearl and trucy bonding supremacy. my girls would fuck shit up

"She’d meant to do this properly, one day." Thank you for giving importance to maya's feelings. thank you for treating her like a real human being. thank you

“Everything that happened...for what? It’s only gotten people hurt. Pearly. Our mother.” Me. Me." I felt so bad for maya here. I wish I could tell you in precise words about how this exact framing of the sentence is what broke me. "me. me" maya deserved more, but mia did all she could

"What do scared kids need? ...Food." not you breaking my godsdamn heart again. phoenix just knows what's it like being a helpless child, and he'll be damned if he ever lets anyone face that again

“‘Course, Pearls,” he says reflexively, before frowning. “What for?” reflexively. if every man in the world could be like phoenix wright then the world would be worthy of the gods

"Another one?" give it 2 years edgey she'll be your daughter too

"after countless hours creating the man’s living space in his mind from the background snatches he’d seen in the man’s ridiculous video calls." NOT ONLY DO THEY VC FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON BUT ALSO MILES ACTUALLY SPENDS TIME TRYING TO RECREATE HIS ROOM?? BECAUSE HE WOULD ONE DAY LIKE TO BE IN IT??? good gods these bitches gay. good for them

"because just as day is light and night is dark, Phoenix Wright is an honorable man." damn straight. you love to see it (it being a 27+ year old man pining for another 27+ year old man)

also hey miles! how do you feel about the fact that the man you love changed his fucking major and degrees halfway through college just so he could see you again only for you to be incredibly rude to him and make him end up in jail! (i bully edgeworth cuz i love him)

"Wright finishes, shrugging like it’s nothing, like his commitment and belief isn’t the most extraordinary thing that Miles has ever faced." it's more than pining at this point. it's incredible faith and trust. Miles had someone who cared about him even after all those years despite him having changed so drastically, ofc he would be surprised. Miles loves phoenix and so do i.

also HOT DAMN YOU WRITING IS JUST * MWAH *

Also the whole segment where they kiss is just !!!!! miles wants! it's beautiful! THEY'RE IN LOVEEE

receiving poisonous bottles which your ex tried to kill you with. My man can't get a break huh

Miles being chivalrous and protective and absolutely stealing my godsdamn heart (and phoenix's too)!

Klavier being the absolute king that he is we stan

The hostage situation section? gods miles must have been terrified.

Phoenix not being able to promise pearly that he'd always come back home and miles hearing it and like... ouch. my heart. you didn't need to do that (but i love your for it)

GODS THE CLIMAX WITH KRISTOPH WAS SOOO SATISFYING AND LIKE MY MAN PHOENIX REALLY PUNCHED THAT BITCH HUH

klavier baby I am so sorry

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

and thus my comment ends. I believe I have almost used up all of my commenting limits and i leave with these few parting words : HOLY SHIT YOUR AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU!

also I made a playlist on spotify for this fic! here's the link : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3k8lRHiO8ZXQDLpiTUL7SN?si=fc3b35b4ab064867

gods this was long huh

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY....WHERE DO I BEGIN...THE FACT THAT YOU BROKE THE CHARACTER LIMIT ON AO3 AND MADE A PLAYLIST? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

thank you so much for all the amazing things you said....i am crying on a Wednesday morning knowing my writing was appreciated this much. thank you!

#ask tag #long post #my fic #nymphietonkslupin

[thecolordemon]

Haha hi :) I already asked but I wanna do it properly here. So, can I request headcanons abt the brothers reactions after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and they're gonna die soon? Thanks! 💕 (Btw I LOVE ur drawing)

Of course you can😊 It will be my first time writing Angst in the english language🤣😅 but I hope you'll enjoy it either way because who doesn't like to suffer a little bit? @flyme--tothemoon I added some shortstorys to the headcanon because...I couldn't help myself.

Request: Headcanons-How would the brothers react after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and that they're gonna die soon?🥺😭

⚠️Angst, Sadness, mentions of illness and death⚠️

*Lucifer*:

he noticed some sickenly sweet scent lingering over your small frame since you arrived in Devildom

but he couldn't put his finger on it

he never lived among humans how could he know?

he couldn't

and that's the whole point

he asks you about it during having dinner with all of the brothers

when your laughter dies down everything else turns quiet too

he knows immediately that something is wrong

"Did someone else noticed it too?" you ask without looking up

they nod

"Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

Angsty/Sad Short story (other brothers below):

They all looked at you with big eyes. Filled with questions and worries because of the sad little smile that crept on your face and conquered your lips like a dark sky swallowing the sun. All of them noticed that sickenly sweet scent over your normal aroma. They just didn't thought that it would be such a big deal... "Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

You cleared your throat and put down your cutlery. It was weird...I kind of felt like the day where you got your deadly diagnosis.

But this time you were the doctor.

And your beloved demons were the patients.

You knew that you couldn't hide it from them forever. Being here was like a daydream and it made you forget your disease a little bit more every day. Living with the demons brought so much new adventures in your life that the illness seemed so far away. It was like you left it at home. In the human world. Somewhere where it couldn't reach you. Throughout the day you never wasted a single thought about your approaching death. And why would you? Death was unavoidable. In the end everbody dies...Just for you it meant, that death would greet you a little bit sooner.

"Two years ago...I fainted. I was not feeling good for a...very, very long time after this. And it did not get better. I thought I hit my head a little bit to hard on the concrete. I...vomited very often and that one night my parents took me to a hospital because of it. They wanted to make sure that I'm okay..." You stopped and looked down at you fingers which were intertwined with the black tablecloth. This night was branded inside your mind like a tattoo you never asked for. Neither did you like it. The brothers did not dare to interrupt you. You could just feel them all staring at you. It was so quiet...so terribly quiet.

"It truned out that...I have a very dangerous disease." you continued. The swallowing felt so much harder now...like something big and bitter was stuck in your throat. "And...sadly...there is no cure..." The bitterness stung in your eyes and you had to fight back the hot upcoming tears. The hopeless and shocked faces of your family were something you could never possibly forget. And right now all of the brothers had this exact same shattered expression on their faces. You bit your bottom lip and your nails digged into the soft skin of you thighs.

"...Is it...deadly?" Lucifer asked and his voice sounded oddly thin. For a little while you did nothing but to stare into space. You did not want them to see you cry. Not when you had to be strong for them again...but then you nodded.

"yes." you breathed. "Yes, it's deadly. They said I have 3 years left-"

The following opressive silence was broken when some of the brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One of them dropped a knife. But nobody saied something. It was like some higher power turned the volume of the universe down. 'Well-' you thought to yourself. 'Maybe this is what shock sounds like...' When you forced yourself to look up, the effects of your confession showed.

All of them were pale. Nobody seemed to breath. Nobody talked. You could see them falling when you looked into their eyes. They were all being swallowed by the big black hole that was your disease and there was no safe shore in sight. You broke them...

All of them.

"I'm so sorry-" you whispered. "I'm sorry for doing this to you." None of them reacted. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks anymore. The salty liquid dribbled over your warm skin like raindrops over glass and ran down to your chin. "I wanted to tell you but--I couldn't-you all made me feel so good that finally I stopped worrying about it-I didn't mean to hurt you--please forgive me-" The sobs came out of your mouth like little hickups.

'They hate me--they hate me for breaking them-I'm a terrible person-'

Lucifer suddenly stood up. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He shoved his chair back and walked around the dinner table until he stood before you. Sadness and anger radiated of him like a upcoming thunderstorm and it scared you.

Would he hurt you? Would he send you back? Would he banish you from the Devildom?

You thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly embraced you in a very thight hug. His fingertips digged deep into the flesh of you back and he hold you so close as if you were going to disappear right on the spot. It took your breath away. "L-Lucifer?-"

The avatar of pride trembled. And there was something wet in your hair...was he crying?! Finally he spoke. His voice broken like a shattered mirror. "You're--telling us--that you're going to die--and still you're-apologizing for it?!-" His grip thightend. "I thought you would hate me now--" you cried desperately. His hug send shivers down your spine. "MC, you're part of our family-We could never hate you-" His voice broke again. "I'm the one who needs to apologize! I ripped you away from your human family! While you have such little time left-I brought you here without checking your whole background-my research was horrible and icomplete-I am the one who has to apologize! Not you! Not you!!" He grabbed you by your shoulders and now you were able to see it. He was really crying. Lucifer, the avatar of pride, was crying. His crimson red eyes were glassy and shimmered with so much regret.

"No-No don't say this Lucifer, please--I'm so happy here--this is my home too-I'm so glad I got the chance to meet all of you-" Your hand reached his wet cheek and he shivered when you did so. "You all made my time so much better than I could've ever imagined-And I'm so grateful-" You whimpered and burried your face in Lucifer's red tie. Your attention was pulled towards Mammon when you heared his sobbing.

*Mammon*:

"This--this is not fair--" Mammon stood up too and he trembled like an earthquake was running through his body. "Finally I meet someone who is nice to me-someone who listens to me-someone who doesn't treat me like shit or like I'm dump--and now-" His thin voice broke in a shaky cry. "I fucking love you-" He broke down and fell to his knees, his face twisted in deep hurt and despair. His glasses and cheeks were already covered in hot, steamy tears and his hands fisted into the rough carpet. Satans hand touched his back but even he did not know what to do. It was a sad single try to calm Mamon down but it didn't work. "Mammon--" you breathed with a hitching voice while still beeing hugged by Lucifer. "I'm sorry-"

"QUIET APOLOGIZING, WILL YA?!" he screamed and then went back to crying hopelessly. His horns showed. He was interrupted by Leviathan's weak voice.

*Leviathan*:

"I-I don't understand-", he whispered and stood next to the quivering Mammon. He looked like he saw a ghost. He was so pale that it looked like he was starting to disappear. His eyes were red and the tears streamed down like little waterfalls. His small frame trembled uncontrollably and his hands were deep inside his pockets. "We were having so much fun together-we were staying up all night together to play videogames-and now this all is--ending?" A new wave of tears gushed over his face. "This wasn't healthy at all--I hurt you-I didn't knew--I-I'm sorry-" His fingers fisted into his lilac hair and he pulled harshly as if he tried to wake himself from this nightmare. "You're my friend---" Asmodeus tried to stop him. "You will get bold-stop-" But he was also not in a good condition. Neither was Satan.

*Satan*:

He normally really payed close attention to his mimic and gesture. But right now...He couldn't even think straight. It was clearly visible that he was deeply upset and his left hand massages his torso like he had a heart attack. "MC-why didn't you tell us sooner?-" There were tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. "I read so much--maybe we could find a magic cure-I newly read a paragraph about-" But you interrupted him right away. "Satan--I know you want to stop it but--there is no solution in no book-I talked with Simeon about it-I asked if he could miracle it away--but he couldn't. He said that only guardian angles are allowed to do such a thing--and they have to be very powerful to do that-and since there are people on earth living under worse conditions-" Your voice broke and Satan looked away in shame when he couldn't stop the tears anymore. He hated not being in control-He would lose you-.

*Asmodeus*:

"God does not throw dice-" Asmodeus whimpered and everyone looked at him. His beautiful eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and not beautiful at all. It looked like he had a terrible allergy against something unknown. But right now he couldn't care less about his appearance. "That's something I always hated about god--They say there is a reason for everything but they won't tell you an actual reason--and then you're still stuck with your problems all by yourself-" He cried out in despair and hid his face behind his fingers. "-without a solution-" he added with a very thin voice. That was just to much for him and he had to cuddle up to Satan for more support. "How can they leave you to die--you-such a perfect human being like you-you should be the top of their creation-how is this possible-." His pink painted fingernails clawed over his flawless skin and left red stripes. He looked like a locked up animal-trying to break free.

*Beelzebub*:

Beelzebub is a quiet soul by nature. Not a man of big and a lot words. And now he seems even more quiet than before. He can't wrap his head around this new, horrible informations. He grew so fond of you, he needs you, you make him feel better-Fuck it all you brought his brother back! And now you're going to be punished with-Death?! That's not fair at all-that's not okay-he can't lose you-not like he lost Belphie-not like he lost Lillith-he-. With big steps he walked towards you and Lucifer. He towers above both of you like a big mountain that's ready to collapse. Without hestiation he pulls you and his oldest brother into a crushing hug. Tears dribble down from his face into your hair and mix with Lucifer's tears. "We can't lose you MC-your family-family means that nobody gets left behind-."

*Belphegor*:

He is the calmest of his brothers. At least it seems like that. He is just sitting there processing what you just said. You are going to die. In less than a year actually. You're going to die and this means that you're going to leave. His eyes flutter in confusion. He was never upset about humans dying. That's what they do. They live, they die. It's that simple. He knew that. He always knew that. He also knew that you were going to die. One day.

...But why so fast?! Why so damn fast?! His heart beats harder, nearly bursting with anger. His tail and horns appear and his whole demon form starts to mainfest in front of you and his brothers. "No!!", he shouts. "I'm not having this! We need to do something-we-" His eyes land on you and that's just to much. "Who do you think you are?! Huh?! You come down here and wreck our worlds, you live with us, you eat with us-you improve our lifes-and-now--" His tail flinches with agression. Belphie's eyes are drowing in tears as his angers makes place for the deep grief that takes over his whole body. He also, like Mammon, falls to his knees. "You can't leave Mc--I need you-"

(Okay I'm gonna leave now, I cried a little bit while writing and...yeah...maybe I'm just sensitive🥺 I hope it's angsty enough though...)

#obey me #obey me masters #obey me angst #obey me sad #obey me short fic #obey me requests #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me beelzebub #obey me story #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me otome #request #send requests #requests are open #sadgirl #sad writing #obey me texts #angst and comfort #angst and romance #angst and fluff