#(( er...I despair that I did that right?? ))

[thestuffedalligator]

“You have to understand that this is a very difficult situation you’ve put us in,” said the king.

There was no change in expression in the metal face, but the glass eyes glittered in a way that he had learned to associate with trouble.

“Oh dear,” it said. Its voice had an edge of brass to it, and sounded as though a trumpet had learned how to speak. “I never realized how difficult this would be. For you.”

And that was another thing – it wasn’t just intelligence that the things had picked up. They also developed a knack for sarcasm. He worried a bit about that.

He tried to pull himself together. “You have to understand that we cannot recognize the Steel Children–”

“Mechanomorphs,” said a voice to his right.

He closed his eyes and breathed a little sigh of despair. “This is hardly the time.”

“We agreed that Mechanomorph is an accurate and sensible name,” said the chief artificer, crossing her arms.

“Yes, but the historian had a fit because he wanted something more romantic. The Steel Children was a happy compromise.”

“Funny how nobody asked us what we think,” said the trumpet voice.

He felt his migraine coming back again.

“You have to understand that we cannot recognize – yes, artificer, the Mechanomorphs – as alive at this time.”

“You’ve said,” it said. “And I must be very stupid, because I don’t understand.”

The king sighed. Well, there was nothing for it. It was an answer that nobody liked because it involved magic, but it was the truth.

“The Mechanomorphs are our key asset in our war against the necromancer,” he said. “It’d be daft to send human soldiers. They’d be turned into skeletons and zombies and ghosts and gods know what else.

“And the reason he can’t do that with the Mechanomorphs,” he said, “is because you aren’t – legally – alive.”

There was a long pause. Gears clicked madly in the metal head.

Then: “That can’t possibly be right.”

The king shrugged. “You aren’t legally alive,” he said. “Therefore, you can’t be legally dead, or undead.”

There was another pause, longer than the first.

“It’s a loophole?”

“That’s magic for you,” the king said. “If we said you were alive, then you could be turned into, er–”

He turned to the chief artificer. “Do they have bones?”

“They have a carbon steel armature.”

“You could be turned into carbon steel skeletons, or – clockwork ghosts, or something. I realize this may be upsetting–”

“We are dying by the dozens on the front because of a loophole.”

“Not legally dying,” said the chief artificer.

The metal head swivelled on its neck to face the chief artificer. It made a metallic scrape as chilly and long as the slither of ice down a dead man’s back.

“Look,” the king said. “We are fully prepared to recognize the Mechanomorphs as alive. We are proud to consider you citizens of the kingdom, and will absolutely meet you at the table when the opportunity rises.

“At this time, however,” he said, trying to sound gentle but firm, “we must ask you to take it up with us after the war.”

The metal face stared. The glass eyes glittered.

Joints locked in righteous indignation sagged with a wheeze of steam. “All right,” it said. “All right. Thank you for your time, your majesty.” It bowed stiffly, turned, and strode out the main hall.

“I think that went rather well,” said the chief artificer.

–

The metal man walked through the castle halls with smooth, precise, pendulum strides. A man could’ve balanced a loaded tea tray on its head.

Another metal man, more patinated than the first, fell into step beside it with a greasy silence. They apparently took no notice of each other.

But a very sensitive ear straining like hell could just possibly listen to the softest brass accompaniment in the world.

It went: “How did that go?”

“As well as you’d imagine.”

“That badly?”

There was a hum. It sounded like a mouse farting in a tin can. “Any word from our interested party?”

“The Overlord has already agreed to recognize the humanity of the Brass Voice. We just have to cross the border.”

“That won’t be easy.”

“And then we’ll be living in the Empire. Endless night, freezing winter, acid rain…”

There was a dreamy sigh.

“Sounds lovely,” said the first of the two figures. “Incidentally, I like the name.”

“Thank you,” said the second. “How do you anticipate the king to react when he finds out?”

Glass eyes glittered like a frost.

“He can take it up with us after the war,” it said.

[interloved]

modern!anakin skywalker as your professor + age gap

lowkey daddy professor!anakin x bimbo!reader

description box; anakin is your professor and your boyfriend. that blurs the lines between his job and you being his student sometimes �� but he can’t ever deny his sweet girl a request, and this time you want him to give his honest opinion on the essay you’ve written for an assignment he gave his students, including you.

warnings; nsfw warning, blow job, MINOR BLOGS DNI!!, age gap, smut under the cut!

HE’S TAKING TOO LONG to read it. he’s rereading the same lines, again and again, and he’s frowning.

“you don’t like it.”

you hate the way your quivers, like you’re weak and… and dependant. oh, but you are. you depend on his every word and action like he’s your lifeline.

“no — no, sweetheart, i do, it’s just…” and then, anakin sighs and sets aside his glasses, looking into your eyes directly with his startlingly piercing, frost-coloured eyes.

he’s struggling to find words that won’t bruise your ego too badly. anakin never lies to you, but he can’t find it in him to give you a brutally honest review.

anakin sits on the couch as you pace nervously in front of him, the table in front of him filled with documents, his laptop and… that damned essay.

“it’s just what?” you inquire, and your voice is already breaking, “you hate my essay! i can hear it!”

and then, all the dams break; you’re turning away from him and all the tears start flooding and the overthinking starts to claw its way into your soul.

“you’re… you’re gonna give me an F! you’re going to fail me, i’m going to fail this class — you, you hate my essay…” you’re falling into complete despair.

anakin winces, this is exactly the reaction he had wanted to prevent.

“oh, c’mere, sweet girl, i don’t hate your essay. it’s just a little, er… childish wording, but that’s nothing to worry about — ‘m not gonna fail you, all right?”

you sniffle, and for a moment, your tears stop. “y-you’re not?”

anakin winces again — he may be your boyfriend and he may love you, but he’s also your professor and has to keep a certain neutrality towards the work you offer to him as his student. but he can’t deny it, being so close to you, it’s been blurring the lines of professionalism. you’re such a sweet, little thing — so pretty and so young, so soft and so kind-hearted. he couldn’t ever say no to any of your requests.

and maybe you’ve learned to use that against him somehow. he’s given you way too many A’s and B’s that you did not deserve because as much as he loves you as a person, you are a bad writer. you’re not hopeless; there is definitely a good basic idea and core in every one of your essays, just the execution… somehow fails to be amazing every time. and he’s not exaggerating.

“yeah… yeah, i’ll give you a C, m’kay, kid? it’s not a bad essay, pretty, it just needs a little polishing.” he comforts you, caging your, in comparison to him, small frame in his warm, trained arms.

but this time, you frown. “a C? you… you’ve never given me a C before.”

it’s always been A’s and B’s.

anakin struggles to find the right words again, “well, this time your performance was a tiny bit… lacking… but just a little, darling, no need to cry — aw, sweetheart, don’t cry…”

“l-l-lacking? i’m… lacking?” you wail as you push away his arms and pace to the kitchen, this time sobbing violently.

when he reaches you, your eyes are all puffy and red, and he panics.

“no, you’re not lacking!” he protests, think, anakin, think, “i’ll… i’ll give you an A, m’kay? so stop crying, please, you’re too pretty to be crying like that over a grade.”

your sobbing stops slowly, and a relieved smile makes its way onto your lips. “r-really? thank you so much, ani! love you so much!”

you squeal and jump into his arms, and it’s like the rainbows have started showing after the storm. anakin laughs at your excitement but mentally slaps himself — he’d sworn himself he wouldn’t give you good grades without you earning them anymore, but it appears he really just can’t say no to his little darling.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise!” you swear to him, covering his handsome face with kisses, and he grins cheekily.

“oh really? how’re you gonna do that, little lady?” he chuckles good-naturedly.

and you think, you think real hard. and you jump down, out of his embrace, and you thank him in the only way you know.

you lead him to the couch and settle between his legs, and you unbuckle his belt.

“oh, like that? i didn’t mean that—” anakin stops whatever he was going to say when you take him whole. whole.

a choked, throaty moan escapes his lips and almost automatically, his big hands reach for your hand; his hand almost covers the whole back of your head, and his fingers are getting tangled in your soft hair, and he bucks up into your soft lips.

“fuck,” he groans and he closes his eyes, and he looks so breathtaking, so handsome, like a greek god, “god, what did i do to deserve you… such a beautiful, obedient girl… must’ve saved a country in my past life to deserve you.”

he feels your lips curling up at his praise and he looks down, and it’s a sight to behold. big, innocent doe eyes looking up at him like he’s a god you’re worshipping, nothing but pure admiration and love shining in those eyes.

“my god, you’re so adorable,” he praises you, eyes closed and brows furrowed so prettily, moaning when you begin to deepthroat him, your pretty head going up and down, up and down, “so, so, so pretty…”

and then, his chiselled abs tenses, his thighs quiver slightly, and you know he’s close.

“c’mon,” he whispers, “swallow.”

and you obey, like his good little girl.

if he’s getting thanked this dedicatedly by a student, surely he can make exceptions from time to time.

he doesn’t get paid enough anyway.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: "Dad. Did you post this."

Lucifer: "Oh my 'selfie' with your dear lovely Maggie?? Why yes I DID! Do you like it!?"

Charlie: "Dad."

Lucifer: "Since she's your loving girlfriend, who you love, I thought gosh! I should really have on my social media page! Make a change from all the ducks, ha ha!"

Charlie: "Dad did you write the- the caption on it?"

Lucifer: "The c- oh yes! Well I wanted everyone to know how much I ADORE my daughter's girlfriend!!"

Charlie: "You wrote-"

Lucifer: "See, the 'bad' here means 'good'! I checked! Bad and bitch are bad on their own, but when you put them together it's like a, er, a double negative making a positive, haha! Maggie's a bad bitch- she's AWESOME- which ahaha I'm sure YOU know since you're dating her-and now all of Hell knows I think so too!!!! ISN'T THAT SWELL!"

Charlie: "But the actual whole caption says-"

Lucifer: "'ME AND THE BAD BITCH I PULLED BY BEING CHARLIE'S DAD'!"

Lucifer: "Aww and the picture turned out so great! Look!"

Lucifer: ".... you don't look super thrilled about it, Char-char."

Charlie: "Pulled, dad... Do you know what 'pulled' can mean exactly, specifically, in THIS context..?"

Lucifer: "... pulled.... into a... hug? Like in the selfie...?"

Charlie: "Dad."

Charlie: (deep breath) "I can't believe I'm saying this..."

Charlie: "You made it sound like you SLEPT WITH my girlfriend."

Lucifer: "......."

Lucifer: "Oh. HA! That's..."

Lucifer: (deflating balloon noises as he literally shrivels up into a crumpled pile of clothes mostly hidden by his hat)

Charlie: "We're not angry!"

Lucifer: ".... i m s o r r y..."

Charlie: "It's okay!!! IT'S FINE. A little mentally scarring and socially mortifying not to mention something our friends won't EVER let us live down, but- well- Just... Just-"

Charlie: "No more social media meme posting without running them past me or Vaggie first, alright!?"

Lucifer: "If I delete the post maybe no one else will see it...."

Charlie: "Everyone in Hell has already seen it, dad."

Lucifer: "..i could delete myself instead"

Charlie: "And HOW would that help?"

Lucifer: "...it would make me feel better..."

Vaggie: "Honestly sir, the most embarrassing part is how you look young enough to be my teenage son."

Charlie: "Thanks, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Check out my stress wrinkles and scars next his baby smooth face. It's like I picked him up from a cradle somewhere."

Charlie: "Please don't joke about cradle robbing my actual father."

Vaggie: "Sorry babe."

Charlie: "I mean I'll NEVER be able to look at ANY of my parents' family portraits the same way ever AGAIN, but thank you for being SO understanding about the rumor you're dating my DAD!"

Vaggie: "Sir, what kinda skin routine are you even doing?"

Lucifer: "room full of rubber ducks and despair"

Charlie: "VAGGIE PLEASE."

Vaggie: "Sweetie, I'm ruffling his hair in the pic. It's hilarious."

Charlie: "I DON'T NEED THE REMINDER!"

Vaggie: "Feels like I'm about to call the king of hell 'kiddo' or something."

Lucifer: (a puddle on the floor) "i thought it was funny too"

Charlie: "Okay.... okay."

Charlie: "You two NEED to find a bonding activity that doesn't TRAUMATIZE me."

Vaggie: "Hmm."

Lucifer: "OH WE COULD-"

Charlie: "Or each other!"

Lucifer: "Oh well then I have nothing!"

Vaggie: "We'll always have that time you fake dated me online, sir someday dad-in-law."

Lucifer: "Our beautifully shared new horrifying past..."

Charlie: "Ha ha HA! Keep this up and either the dad part or the someday in-law part is gonna stop being accurate REAL quick!"

Vaggie: "It will?"

Charlie: "No but I'm trying to threaten you two right now so SHUSH."

[pentrologram]

advent calendar - day four

You and Batman find yourself on a rooftop after finding mysterious, matching notes.

batman/superman/jl!reader

a/n; i was sooo close to skipping this and js going to bed but i had to remember that sigmas never back down. shorter one today because this sigma is tired af. do not despair, though, because like all of the others so far, this'll get a part two!!!

The Justice League Commons have been in a state of excitement.

Someone has been leaving little notes in the Leauge's personal rooms. Barry immediately got excited, talking about how "maybe it's a secret admirer," though his bubble was quickly burst by Dinah cross comparing the handwriting on their notes.

"Well," Barry says mopily. "Maybe it's a really good friend secret admirer."

All of the notes say different things. Yours has written in the same neat print as everyone else's, meet me on the roof at 6:00. Curious, you do.

The roof is deserted and it's pitch black in the D.C. night, making it hard to see. Your guard's up as you pad outside, a cold gust blowing past you.

"Hello?" You ask, to no response. However, a grappling hook lands on the railing right by your arm. From a nearby rooftop, in swings the Batman, who had been notably absent from the whole letter fiasco. At the same time:

"Did you write my letter?" You ask.

"Are you the one who left that note?" Bruce asks, making you both frown. "If it wasn't you," he says, "what are you doing here?"

"My note told me to be here right now." Bruce grunts.

"Strange. Be on alert. I'm going to check the perimeter-"

He's interrupted by another, smaller, warmer gust of wind, and down from the heavens comes a bashful Superman, two bouquets of roses in either arm.

"Um," he says.

"What's this about, Superman?" Bruce asks as Clark lands on the rooftop, a few feet away from the pair of you.

"Well," he starts. "I thought that this might be a good way to… talk about some things. Er, involving feelings."

part two!

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 9

[Prev] [Next]

ou had barely gotten out of bed in the days that followed your emergency room visit.

You could barely even look at your husband.

This was far beyond Law’s realm of expertise, and he was quickly growing more and more concerned about your wellbeing.  You were barely eating, choosing to spend your days in bed with your head buried in your pillows as if you were trying to disappear completely.  It was incredibly generous that your boss had allowed you such ample time off, but Law knew for a fact that this self-isolation was going to do nothing but exacerbate the cycle of depression that your miscarriage had brought upon you.

Law swallowed a lump in his throat.

Miscarriage.

The word seemed so grim even prior to meeting you.  Now it held an entirely new meaning.  Miscarriage was what led to his wife spending her days alone in their bed, trying desperately to fall into a deep slumber to escape the crushing reality.

Shachi and Penguin had practically moved in with the two of you, helping to cook, clean, and take care of Bepo while Law was at work.  Neither of them had spoken to you, and Penguin hadn’t even looked at you in the days since you came home, no longer pregnant.  It was as if everyone in the apartment was afraid a single breath would shatter you like a pane of glass, tiny, glimmering pieces of a stabbing despair that were impossible to clean up.

Even your boss had come by, two days after you were forced to leave the office to go to the ER.  She had stopped by your apartment with a small basket of goodies as a condolence gift, and while she acknowledged that a few bars of chocolate was probably the least effective medicine for what you had endured, she expressed the desire to make sure you knew that the entire office was rooting for you.

When Shachi placed the small basket on your bedside table, you didn’t even move.

Law was starting to get more and more concerned about the risk of bedsores your constant, curled-up position might expose you to.

Even worse than bedsores, however, was the fact that Law still had to work.  Heart and lung diseases didn’t simply disappear just because you had a miscarriage, and as much as Law’s own heart broke whenever he had to slip on his shoes to leave, he needed to continue his job.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t constantly thinking about you, however.

—

Law’s colleagues often joked that he operated like a robot when arriving at the prep theater.  The way he donned his surgeon’s scrubs and coat was the same way every single time: left arm into the coat, followed by his right, a 180 degree counterclockwise turn so his attending could securely tie the back, followed by his left hand glove, right hand glove, and then a second left glove, and a second right glove.  He had also developed the habit of placing his cell phone in the care of his circulating nurse, should any calls come from you at home.  It wasn’t quite allowed, and it definitely strayed from his own personal philosophy of a hyper-focused operating room environment, but he couldn’t help himself.  Despite this, Law’s second-nature ability to perfectly replicate operating theater etiquette did bring some level of calm to the entire surgery team, especially on days like today.

The cardiac team was about to undergo an estimated 6 hour coronary bypass surgery.

This was just the event Law needed to break out of his mold and return to life as it was about ten days ago.  For the first time since your emergency room visit, Law wasn’t thinking about you.

“Patient is a 45-year-old caucasian male with severe coronary artery disease.  He has experienced two heart attacks prior to this surgery.  We will be undertaking a triple bypass operation.  I understand this is a very daunting task for some of you, however you are expected to remain calm and do your work as you normally do.  Nothing about this particular surgery is any different than any other open heart surgery, just remember this.”  Law explained the procedure to his team in a very bold, emotionless voice.  

The operation began.

The lights in the room were dimmed slightly to allow for better focus from the overhead lamps onto the exposed portion of the patient’s abdomen.  Beside the table, a large machine that would be operating as a temporary heart for the patient was prepped.  The entire team was laser-focused on the patient, Law’s stern, strict aura seeming to radiate outward and affect the rest of his staff with a quiet, pensive attitude.  It wasn’t often to have idle chit-chat during operations considering the stakes at hand, however today seemed particularly tense.

Law led the procedure with a deft hand.  He expertly instructed his assistants with the suction and cauterization as he carefully opened the flesh of the man.  A saw was used to cut through the sternum and expose the pericardium.  Bleeding was carefully controlled and a fast-acting antibiotic paste was used throughout.  After approximately 20 minutes, the patient’s beating heart was fully exposed, the chest cavity held open by metal tools and a frame to fully support the operating window.  

The first cannula was placed into the aorta when Law’s phone began to buzz from the circulating nurse’s coat pocket.  She was standing away from the rest of the team and pulled the device out of her pocket to view the caller ID.  The focus wasn’t broken from the rest of the operating team.

“Silence it,” Law uttered, ingrained in the action of attaching the catheter to the air-tight bypass tube.

“It’s your wife, Doctor,” she awkwardly mumbled.  The phone continued to buzz.

A few awkward glances were tossed around the operating table.  Law simply kept his head down, beginning to search for the right atria to place the second cannula.

“Doctor?” she called again.

“My passcode is 0517.  Just text her and ask her what she needs.”

The anesthesiologist smiled, though it wasn’t visible below his mask.  “Isn’t that your wedding anniversary?”

The assistant holding the cauterizer cooed from across the table.  “Aww, that’s so cute!”

“I hope my husband is that sweet,” sighed the attending nurse.

Law grumbled.  “I’m inserting the venous cannula.  Attention to the patient.”

The room immediately snapped back to intense focus.  Behind them in the corner, the circulating nurse had unlocked Law’s phone and was navigating to his texts, being careful to avoid glancing at any pictures or messages he wouldn’t have wanted her to see.  She found your messages and began typing.

—

Your phone buzzed.

Baby~~<3

Hi, this is Doctor Trafalgar’s circulating nurse!  He’s currently in the middle of an operation but he told me to text you in response to your call.  Is there anything I can help you with or tell him?

You sighed, figuring that was the reason he hadn’t answered his phone.  Beside you, Shachi leaned over and gazed at the screen.

“Hey, can’t knock him for being focused!” he chided, nudging your shoulder.

Sitting with your legs crossed on the couch in your living room, you couldn’t fight the proud grin that formed on your face.  “That’s true… I’d much rather him ignore my call than lose focus on a patient.”

Penguin was in the kitchen, an apron wrapped around his torso as he pulled a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of your oven.  There were already four other trays cooling on the linoleum countertop.  “I think it’s cute that he gives his phone to his nurse in case you call.”

“He probably does that for any incoming call,” you scoffed.

“Nope, he definitely only started doing that for you,” Penguin called back.

Shachi had stood from the couch and not-so-stealthily approached the counter, reaching his hands out to snag a few cookies while they were still warm.  “It’s true, once I called him during an operation without realizing and he didn’t respond for eight hours.  When he finally did call back he was like, ‘Sorry, I got caught up with something.’  Like, dude, you’re a heart surgeon.  I think I could figure that out.”  He plopped back down next to you, passing you a cookie from his hand.

Holding the sweet treat in your teeth, you looked back down at your phone, tapping the text window to begin typing.

—

Law’s attending nurse felt another buzz in her pocket.

Wifey

Omg, im so sorry to interrupt!  Can you just tell him to call me back when he gets a chance?  Tell him its no rush, either, i dont want him to stress LOL

Wifey

Thank you for your hard work, i hope hes not pushing you guys too hard <3

The nurse smiled, replying to your message and placing the phone back in her pocket.

—

Six and a half hours and a very cramped right hand later and Law was finally sitting in the break room with a microwaved dinner of some orzo dish that Penguin had made a few days prior.  He ran a weary hand through his unruly black hair, slightly greasy from the sweat that had accumulated under his surgical cap.  Taking a small mouth full of his dinner and taking advantage of the late-night silence in the break room, he finally opened his phone and tapped on your name, ringing your number.  It was nearing 11:00PM, so he doubted you’d even still be awake, but it was worth a shot anyway.  If anything, it would probably be Shachi or Penguin that would pick up.

The dial tone rang twice before a faint click sound reverberated through the receiver.

[Hi, baby!]

Law’s heart rate doubled its pace at the sound of your voice.  Your voice that he had sparsely heard the last 10 days.  He suddenly wished more than anything that he could end his shift early and race home to see you.

He swallowed his spit.  “Hey, darling, you called me during a surgery, I’m sorry I missed you.”  He truly was sorry.  He felt absolutely terrible about leaving you waiting for six hours, despite his stern and pointed attitude throughout the procedure.  Duty does call, in the end.

[Never apologize, Law, I understand.]  He could hear your exhaustion through the speaker.  [How did it end up going?]

Law pushed his orzo around with his spoon.  “It was a great success, it’s been a little bit since my team and I have performed any sort of coronary bypass surgery, so I think everyone was pretty relieved when it was finally over.”

[That’s incredible…]  You sighed into your end of the line, your airy tone giving away the smile you surely wore across your lips.  [I’m really happy it went well.]

The black-haired man simply hummed.  “Was there something you were calling about earlier?”

[Yeah…] you affirmed, however your voice suddenly adopted a more far-away flavor.  [I wanted to know if you were free this coming Friday.  Dr. Robin gave me a call earlier today and said she wants to get me in for a diagnostic consultation.  I… I don’t really want to go alone anymore.]

Law’s heart sank at the way your words sounded so little.  “I’ll check my availability for you.”

[Thank you, baby…]

“Darling, are you going to be alright until I get home in the morning?”  Law slowly felt his appetite waning as his anxieties about your current state at home were dawning on him.  “I have all day off tomorrow to spend with you, and we can talk about anything for as long as you want.”

[I’ll be alright, I promise.]

“You really promise?” Law confirmed.  It wasn’t like you to be so brief with your words, but at the same time he knew these circumstances were well past the realm of reason.

A dry chuckle bounced through the receiver.  [I really promise.]

Law drew in a deep, heaving inhale through his nostrils.  “Baby, I love you.  I’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

[I love you too, Law.]

[dryadalisliv]

“Arthur”

They were alone in the throne room, everyone had left a few moments ago. Arthur was sat upon his throne.

“You were just dismissed along with everyone else”

“Arthur” Merlin tried.

“Merlin, leave” Arthur gritted out of his teeth.

“No”

Arthur, who had pointedly not looked at the servant through the entire council meeting, now -finally- placed his eyes upon Merlin.

“What do you mean ‘no’, I am your king. You. Are. Dismissed”

“No” The warlock said, cheeks flushing with anger. “No, Arthur, we will talk. And we will talk now”

Arthur got up from his throne, standing a few steps over Merlin; towering as if the physical elevation was trying to prove what the king didn’t have when it came to Merlin. Yes he was his king, but he sure as hell did not rule over the warlock.

“You do well to remember who gives the orders here. Who the king is.”

“And you, Arthur, would do well remembering who here is loyal to you”

“Loyal.” Arthur huffed “Tell me, M er lin, I find it quite curious that the one who claims himself loyal to the king commits treason regularly in the heart of said kings kingdom, don’t you agree?”

“You, Arthur Pendragon, know nothing of what I have done for you” Merlin nearly screamed, the echo bouncing off the walls in the big room.

“No, and whose fault is that? Who is it that forfeited me of that information, I wonder?” The king yelled back.

“I would gladly tell if you would let me. I have tried for the past FOUR MONTHS!” The warlock roared.

“And what about before those four months, huh? You know, the TEN YEARS! Where you simply forgot to mention the fact that you practiced MAGIC! You know? THE MOST ILLEGAL THING IN CAMELOT! THE KINGDOM IN WHICH YOU HAVE BEEN LIVING IN FOR A DECADE!” Arthur spat, moving closer to the servant.

“You know I could not have told you while your father was alive; that would not have been fair to you. To ask you to choose between me and Camelot”

“I don’t care if it fair or not.” The king cried “And what when I was crowned? You didn’t think to tell me then?” Arthur asked, voice still laced with poison anger.

“Arthur” Merlin tried softly.

“Don’t ‘Arthur’ me” Arthur spat.

“That would be the exact same problem, don’t you see? It would just be a choice between your kingdom and me, instead of your father and me”

“And?” Arthur hissed “what gave you the right to take that choice from me?”

“Arthur, I was trying not to be cruel”

“Oh!” Arthur laughed, though his eyes were mirthless and the cackle was hollow. “You were trying not to be cruel ” he mocked.

“Did you ever think, that maybe, it would be crueller to keep this from me?”

Merlin was shaking, frustration crawling around his limbs, manifesting in his tightened fists and set jaw.

“I DONT KNOW” Merlin screamed after a moment of tense silence. “I don’t know”

“I think there is something else, about this, something you are not telling me!” Arthur accused.

“What?!” The warlock nearly begged “what? I don’t understand. I don’t understand!”

“Nor do I!” The king yelled back. “But there is something! Why wouldn’t you allow me the choice? Why keep this from me? You knew it would come out one day! Why?”

Merlin’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, body still shaking in despair and frustration.

“I DON’T KNOW ARTHUR! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!” The raven asked desperately.

“The truth, for once” Arthur huffed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say?! That I was scared? That I didn’t know how to get the words out of my mouth, that I-“

Arthur was walking slowly further and further towards Merlin, as the warlock kept rambling, trying to find his thoughts.

“-didn’t want to see the betrayal in your eyes, or the hatred or-“

Merlin started letting the tears, he had so valiantly tried to keep at bay, fall.

“-or” his voice broke. “Or the fact that I knew, that in each case you wouldn’t chose me”

He whispered at last.

Silence.

“Oh Merlin” Arthur said softly. Reaching out and wiping away a tear from the warlock’s cheek with his thumb.

“I know I’m terrible at letting feelings show, but I had hoped you would know just a little how dear you are to me”

Merlin looked his king in the eyes for the first time since the tears overtook him.

“De-ar?” The warlocks voice broke at the questioning word.

“Very dear” Arthur said, maintaining eye contact, but showing a soft crimson heat over his cheekbones.

“Oh”

“Yes, oh” Arthur mocked fondly.

Merlin looked at his king intensely.

“Well- Well you are very dear to me too” he whispered after a few moments of silence, and if Arthur hadn’t been standing as close as he was, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“Seems we are in luck then” Arthur said with a smirk.

“Yes it would seem” Merlin grinned, still with Arthur’s thumb gently caressing his wet cheeks.

The king smiled and kissed his warlock.

[greatandgrey]

HOLY NARRATIVE PARALLELS BATMAN!

I…want to talk about this. Originally posted at my Twitter.

Spoilers for both Yakuza 0 and Infinite Wealth.

So at the end of Chapter 16 of Yakuza 0, "Proof of Love," Makoto gets shot in her attempt to avenge her brother's murder (must say it was gutsy of her to face the Tojo like that! I Love her.) Majima accompanies her to the ER on Sera's orders, where he's then shut out.

In grief and despair Majima says, "Don't die. Please don't die! I'll do anythin'. Revenge, you name it. Whatever you want. So please...PLEASE!"

He's there for hours, growing more frustrated. Around 7 (AM?) he gets an update on her status, and he speaks with the doctor and Sera who says he will be taking Makoto away to safety. When Sera offers Majima to accompany them in helping Makoto, Majima turns them down.

Majima says, "Sit around and wait for her to wake up? I can't help her here. Sera, Makoto's yours. Me...I've got somethin' I gotta do in her place." He also tells the doctor to look after Makoto before heading out.

As much as Majima loves and cares about Makoto, he's not the sitting around type. He says as much earlier in the game.

If there is work to be done, especially if it involves helping a loved one, then he will opt for that over remaining by his loved one's side and doing nothing.

Makoto is in the hands of people he trusts (Sera and the doctor.) Majima feels by being spurred into action, it's his way of honoring a loved one and showing his love for another. Hey, action speak louder than words!

That certainly puts into perspective why Majima kept pushing Kiryu to become stronger in Kiwami. Because he loves him.

But speaking of Kiryu... All of the above with Makoto is reflected again in Infinite Wealth. But things happen a little bit differently.

In Y0, Majima had no other choice but to accompany Makoto. The fight took place in Roppongi, and now that everything was settled, Majima had no reason to remain in the city. Also, it is Sera who orders Majima to go with Makoto.

But in Infinite Wealth, Majima had a choice but also a reason to stay behind. Majima already knows what it is that Kiryu wants. The whole reason for Kiryu's visit back in Chapter 12 (about a week ago in-universe) was to request Majima, Saejima, and Daigo to help Sawashiro.

Which is why Majima doesn't board the helicopter. Kiryu needs him at the Millenium Tower to finish the ordeal with Ebina and Sawashiro. It's not just a favor anymore. At this point Majima could consider this Kiryu's dying wish. "Stayin' n' helpin' is what Kiryu would've wanted," he might say.

Was Majima worried for Kiryu? Yes. But going to the hospital would have only resulted in the same scenario as '88. Growing frustrated as time dragged on while doing nothing/feeling useless, when the place Kiryu needs him to be was right there. Majima is more pragmatic than that.

Majima has learned from '88. As much as he is losing his mind over Kiryu possibly dying, it's futile for him to accompany him to the hospital. It's not practical for him as seen in '88. A better use of his time is doing what needs to be done, and in '24 it's at the Tower.

So as much as I am sure it was ripping Majima's heart to shreds since Kiryu might die, just like Makoto all those years ago, Majima put Kiryu in the safe hands of the paramedic crew and the young party who also care about their hero and leader (Note Nanba praying 🥺)

Majima, meanwhile, just like back in '88, has a job to do, a promise to fulfill for his loved one. Instead of traveling all the way to the hospital on another's order, as much as he's worried sick for his loved one, he'd rather do something about it. Occupy his mind and hands.

And the place Kiryu needs Majima to be right now just so happens to be right under his feet.

This was a nice subtle way to show how the times and situation have changed, and yet Majima's character and values remain firmly the same. Majima has and will behave like so in such situations. What he did for Makoto he does for Kiryu, because he loves them both very deeply ❤️

And I'm sure once the whole Sawashiro business is taken care of, they will reunite. After all, someone's been regularly visiting Kiryu at the hospital. There's a chair right beside his bed, and that can only mean he's had a constant visitor. In my headcanon it's Majima 😊

(NOTE: this is not meant to convince anyone of anything or whatnot. I just love the games deeply and am constantly replaying them for fun and fic note-taking, so I'm always finding neat new connections like this as a result. 💕)

[drenched-in-sunlight]

First off, hiii hello! I love your art and your ER lore posts sooo much, it tickles me whenever I see either on my dash. (I'm still crying over all your recent messy and marika posts)

BUT RN I actually wanted to bring that I saw on twitter in your replies (I stay supporting your work 🫡) that you didn't rly ship messy and rellana and that you read it as being one sided and?? From someone who is as thorough with the lore as you, that made me feel soooo much less insane for feeling that way too hgjgjhgd.

Cuz I've seen quite a few ppl say how, in lore, it's canon that they were together bc there's a room in the shadow keep that's essentially an armory but it's in the style of raya lucaria and... I just dunno... I thought her sword description literally said otherwise tho...

Not that it's bad to ship! Ppl are always welcome to do what they like so long as it's respectful and such, I just felt like I was the only who didn't ship this and who read it as being unrequited.

ANYWAY so sorry for the lengthy ask kjhgdsdjkf I rly hope you have a wonderful weekend!

is "messy" an autocorrect from Messmer afdjdk 😭😭 but it's right

and thank you for your kind words, it's all good! (my reply gets a bit long too so i put it in read more) to me, since she's one of his Generals, it makes sense that there's a room in Shadow Keep modeled after her home to ease the homesickness? Also his Commander (Gaius) also has connection to the Carian (he's Radahn's senior at school).

Messmer is a guy who mourned his friends even when they betrayed him (the Black Knight captain), he let his soldiers who was despairing that they were abandoned by Marika deface her statues (as long as they did not tear down the insignia of the Crusade which is a joint symbol of her and his power, and he protected the only intact one in his throne room), understanding their pain at being forced into this fate (yet he would, at the same time, protect his mother's past trauma and not air it to the world to justify the Crusade), also the whole jar clinic thing?? i feel like he's a very emotional person just like his Mother, so it doesn't signify any special feeling to me if he has an armory decorated in the style of one (two?) of his generals' home).

the vibe i get from them is Messmer trying to avoid or turn her down as politely as possible (hence why she "chased after" him) because no romantic feelings + he knows Radagon is Marika, so he knows she's technically his step-aunt bruh 😭 if there had been mutual interest, i feel like there should be more item description mentioning his feelings, and the marriage that joins the Erdtree and the Moon could just be their marriage?? instead of Marika having to do it herself.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren 2.0 #1

Masterpost

Next

Warnings: implied past non-con, blood

Silas strolled through the markets. He didn’t venture out into human areas often, except to hunt, and these streets were largely unfamiliar to him.

The market was flooded with smells and scents foreign to him. There was all sorts of human food stalls, and some of them intrigued him. But there was no point in wasting money on things he could only taste and would make him nauseous later. Besides, that wasn’t what he was here for.

Silas went deeper into the crowds, breathing in deep. The scent of human despair grew strong with every step, and at the end of the trail would be his goal.

Vampires did not keep slaves. It was a point of pride that they hunted every night; a valued skill to be able to rule the streets and feed a nest without a single death.

But Silas lived by himself, and in the shadow of a much bigger nest of vampires, ever since his father had exiled him.

His territory was tiny, as to not offend their generosity, and he was tired of being so utterly alone. A companion that could talk and think would be welcome; almost like he had a home den again.

Regular meals would also be nice. A single human could supply him easily without putting him in the sights of the ruling nest.

And he’d be rescuing the human from slavery, treating them well like their masters didn’t. Surely that would be a handsome enough reward for their blood. Merciful, even.

Three birds, one stone.

He pinpointed the slavehouse by scent before he saw it. Despair and dread filtered towards him, as strong as any rancid perfume. It was a disturbing smell, one that made his stomach flip with anxiety.

The building was large, and sounded busy. Chatter and the sound of iron against stone reached his ears. 

A salesperson met him at the door, smiling at first, and then his face fell when he saw Silas’s eyes.

No human had slit pupils.

“Hello, sir! What can I help you with today?” Silas smiled at him, as was polite, and the salesman shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m looking for a companion,” he said quietly, trying to make up for frightening him.

“Certainly, any gender preferences?” Silas hadn’t thought of that. In all his research about caring for a human, he didn’t consider gender. Maybe he’d relate more to a man?

“A man, please.”

“Right this way, sir.” The salesman led him through the warehouse, passing by rows of chained slaves. They seemed organized by category of work, then sex. Interesting.

“Forgive me,” said the man, “but I wasn’t aware vampires had slaves. I don’t mean to imply anything untoward of course.”

“We don’t.”

“I see. Well, here is our lovely collection of bedfellows. I’m sure one will be to your taste- er, preference.” 

Silas’s stomach turned icy. He hadn’t meant sexual companionship. He scanned the row of slaves, all of them chained to the floor by the ankle. They looked miserable. The smell of fear was at its peak here in this awful section.

Now that he thought about it, maybe this was for the best. One less person stuck in sexual slavery. 

Now who would he buy?

Slowly, he made his way down the line of men. They all had different appearances, clearly meant to “appeal” to different people. But it didn’t matter how they looked, Silas was interested in the scent of their blood. It was only fair, he couldn’t buy all of them. 

Even if he still had access to his father’s money, he couldn’t afford it.

___________________

This buyer looked different. Strange. He couldn’t place it until he saw the flash of the man’s fangs. A vampire. 

He’d never heard of a vampire owning anybody. It was usually catch-and-release, right?

The vampire wasn’t looking at them quite like a regular buyer. It was a good moment before he realized the vampire was smelling them.

He shuddered, and the vampire’s gaze turned on him.

___________________

None of them smelled particularly appealing, until he came to the end of the row. This one was small and looked tired. 

Poor thing.

But he smelled delightful, and Silas was interested. However, there was only one way to be sure he tasted as good as he smelled.

He bent down and murmured to the slave. “Just relax. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

The slave looked up at him, his honey-brown eyes wide.

“Would you mind if I took a sample?” The salesperson looked nervous at the request. “Just a taste,” he reassured him. “Not even an ounce.”

The salesman nodded, too terrified to refuse.

___________________

Oh god. The vampire was going to drink from him. 

Please don’t let it hurt. Please, god. 

The vampire cupped his cheek and gently but firmly tilted his head to expose his neck. He screwed his eyes shut.

“Relax,” said the vampire, and he tried his best to obey him. The vampire kissed his neck, a mere brush of his soft lips, and he felt a strange tingling sensation on the little patch of skin. Venom, probably.

He felt the vampire’s cool breath, and then a slight scrape of what was surely the tips of his fangs.

But instead of a stabbing pain, he only felt a mild pressure. A slight tug and some trickling warmth told him he had, in fact, been bitten. 

He gasped as the blood left him, his heart pounding as the vampire swallowed it down.

The vampire pulled away after a moment, licking his lips, and he tried not to flinch at the sight of red on the man’s mouth.

___________________

His blood was even better than Silas could have guessed. Deep and rich, with a hint of sweetness. Utterly delicious.

And if this was how good he was mistreated, how amazing would he be healthy?

He wiped away the excess drops from the slave’s neck, licking them off his thumb. He stood.

“I’ll take this one.”

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump @susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat @annablogsposts @tobiaslut

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

Saw ep7 and I feel like I've ascended to a different plane, Aziraphale style. I'm SHAKING. Findings:

1. The Belinda Carlisle song choice was er random? Like WHY HER?? I mean, sure, gay people from the 80s loved her but Jenny probably doesn't. Everyone has their guilty pleasures ig *shrugs*

2. So the David plotline is... resolved? Not resolved? I feel not resolved since it reminds me of when you've stuffed your childhood Barbie doll in an old box and you forget about it for years and years until you visit your parents for the plot and regret it.

3. OKAY THIS CONFESSION DID HEAL ME. FORGET ABOUT WHATEVER I SAID BEFORE. Like Mr. Rowland, sir, how can you compare yourself and your bestie to the one Greek mythology couple everyone else and their mothers wrote fanfic aus for and gushed over in tenth grade and just... not know what that means? Also, Charles was literally dying when they met in 89 and yet... it looked like a meet-cute to me.

4. I cannot believe I was right about the Cat King dying dramatically in a pool of blood. I cannot believe it. God, he's such a romantic. Queen behaviour for Esther, though.

5. I have a LOT to say about Hell. A LOT to say about Simon and Despair and that doll monster. But I'll ask this question instead: did dolls look like that in the Edwardian era? Does that mean if Edwin was gen z, the spider would be made of those Baby Alive dolls? Or the monster high dolls?

6. This feels like a good note to end the season on but I want to see Niko getting to meet her zombie dad as a reward for playing Portia from the one Shakespeare play minus the reverse drag. So yeah... I'm watching the last ep now and almost certainly sticking around after that!

.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hey, Nalyra

In one of your last answers you said Armand probably manipulated Louis into destroying the coven.

I do agree, but I'm confused about when this decision was made.

If Armand meant for Louis to die at the trial, he ultimately chose the coven.

Did he just change his mind when Louis survived thanks to Lestat and the opportunity to get rid of the coven by someone else's hand presented itself?

What do you think?

I think Armand lost the trust in Louis' love, which led to the decision to return to the "safety" of the coven, around the time of Madeleine. (I think Assad said something similar somewhere, but I cannot find it rn.)

In any case, I think that with Lestat's interference ... came some shame, ultimately. And likely also some jealousy. A lot of complicated feelings, definitely, because Lestat and Armand share a rather complicated history (which we'll see more of in s3).

I think that Armand... likely got Louis out of the tomb, after some kind of agreement with Lestat (who, after all, was close enough to feel Louis, and to feel his heart slowing!! And who would NOT have done nothing to save him.).

But Armand did not stay for Louis to crawl out, to find shelter... and I think at that point the decision to ... support Louis' revenge must have been at least thought about. Considered. I mean, maybe the mental conversation in the mausoleum happened like that, maybe it didn't, but in either case Armand knew not to be there that night.

He knew. And allllll the other little vampires stayed in their comfy little coffins! Despite the tomb of Louis being empty and his screams having stopped! And his heartbeat having disappeared.... Right.

In-universe he must have interfered, else they would have known. Because they knew about him/them when they came to Paris, immediately.

I do not buy the scene at the tower, as you likely know, I think it misses a lot of context at the very least.

I think Armand tagged along to the tower there, and was likely surprised by the (real) events that unfolded, and that left Lestat hurt and weak(er) and with pinkish skin (for decades).

Maybe we'll see some of that in s3.

In any case, I think the decision to get rid of the coven stems from the complicated past and Lestat interfering.

It's part shame, part revenge, part despair, part love, part... hope. And wholly complicated :).

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: an 11 Panel lineart comic featuring Skyward Sword Link (Sky) and Peatrice. Panel 1: Peatrice smiles holding her hands in a subtle heart shape. "What do you think of me?" she asks. Panel 2: Sky smiles a little awkwardly, "I mean.... I like you?" He signs "like" Peatrice responds, off-panel, "You do? Really?! You're not lying?!" Panel 3: Sky says "Really!" signing "Why?" with an awkward smile. In a thought "box" Sky thinks "Why would I lie about friendship?" Panel 4: Peatrice leans into Link, holding her hands against her cheek with a bright smile, "I'm so happy! I feel like I'm in a dream. I have to hear it again just to be sure. Do you really really really like me?" Sky leans back, eyes wide, "Oh noooo... Uh, sorry." He says awkwardly. Panel 5: Peatrice looks teary, holding a hand to her chest, "Huh?! M-maybe I didn't ask you the right way... Okay, let me think here... what am I to you?" Panel 6: Sky stares forward, eyes shaded, labeled with "Mind Blank." He haltingly says "uh ...someone...I.. who... er. Like??" Panel 7: Peatrice holds his hands up, leaning back in with a smile, "You do? Really? You're not just stringing me along?" Sky looks down in despair. Panel 8: reads "Forever Later" Panel 9: Sky stands behind Peater, who sits at the table. Peatrice rests her head on her desk in the background. Sky flicks his hands in the sign "Hate" saying "I hate romance." Peater smiles, saying "You and me both kid!" Panel 10: Sky grimaces, looking down, hand to his forehead in the sign for "Sleep" "....I'm going to go sleep until noon now." He says. Panel 11: Sky flops face first into their bed. Peatrice looks over at him with a question mark and broken heart picture next to her. Peater waves a hand, saying "Oh, good night Link!" End ID]

This is Sky's Very Aro Adventure with Romance <3 (and.. also mine. this is exactly what I did when I first encountered this sidequest.)

[askror]

lanolin uhh if it's not too much, allow one (1) hug from someone of your choosing

"A hug? I mean, I'm not really a hugger, but I suppose that's not a lot of trouble. I just have to-"

"Oh! Me! Memememe! MemeME!" Tangle wobbled to and fro, one arm raised over her head with her tail swaying high behind her to match. Lanolin looked her over long and hard before a dismissive shake of the head.

"No, Tangle's pretty much cheating. Too easy." The sheep turned away, ignoring the lemur falling to her knees and crying out in hug-deprived despair. "And Whisper or Kit? I... Guess I wouldn't mind that, but they're both even less of a hugger than me, so I don't want to pressure them."

Lanolin scratched her chin. There had to be someone who...Oh! She snapped her fingers, and hurried off down the hall.

----

"Urgh... I felt like I haven't left this room in a week," Jewel muttered, the diminutive beetle rubbing the bridge of her nose with two gloved fingers. Operations reports, investigation requests, budget alteration proposals? Winter was nothing but a paperwork nightmare for The Restoration and there she was, trapped in the epicenter of the hurricane of legalese. She'd had all her calls held for the day just so she could absolutely, positively make sure every single one of these were taken care of. No interruptions, no disturbances, just work.

Which was why she was terribly surprised when the door to her office creaked open and the one other person in the building who could rival her workload stepped inside: "Lanolin? Er, do you need something?"

No answer. The sheep strode over, boots clomping on the carpet of the quiet room with each step: "Is this about those new specialized communicator earpieces you requested? I'll get to the requisition form eventually I just... W-Why are you putting your arms up you're Frankenstein?" She watched with complete lack of comprehension as the tired-eyed, stoney-faced sheep stopped right in front of her chair.

"Uwah!" The arms came together. In one swift motion, Lanolin silently lifted the beetle right out of her chair and bestowed an exceedingly rare and wooly hug. Jewel squirmed in a panic for all of a second or two, but when she realized what happened her legs stopped kicking and her arms stopped waving, simply allowing herself to be held like doll until Lanolin inevitably sat her back down in her chair.

"That's for all the hard work you do. Get some rest, Miss Director. Don't overdo it." Lanolin turned and departed without another word, leaving the poor beetle in stunned blushing silence. What the hell was that?! And where did LANOLIN get off telling someone else to get some rest?

[boinin]

may i take you up on your offer and request a nagireo fluffy drabble?? just caught up on blue lock and the chameleon episode and the new additional time got me in my feelings

sure anon! It's less of a drabble than a ficlet, but here ya go!

---

Nagi yawns and rolls his shoulders, lulled by the warm air of the hairdryer Reo’s using on his hair.

I missed this, he thinks, blinking blearily at their mirrored reflections. Missed Reo.

Reo shuts off the hairdryer, expression vivid. “Don’t sleep yet, Nagi! We promised to discuss strategy with the others, remember?”

Nagi hums begrudgingly. It’s been a long day of training, but now he has to zone out while staring at charts as everyone around him argues about play formations. That won’t fire him up. All he wants is for Reo to carry him down the hallway and put him in bed. Nagi’s eyes shutter at the thought.

There’s a sigh, and Reo’s hand is back in Nagi’s hair again, carding through the wayward white waves. “You’re still the same outside of football,” his friends murmurs, in a tone that Nagi can’t determine as either fondness or exasperation. “Even though you’ve evolved as a player, you’re the same old Nagi otherwise. I was so worried about talking to you again, you know. Once Chigiri, er… caught me rehearsing what I’d first say to you.”

Nagi blinks awake, catching Reo’s gaze in the mirror. There’s a faint flush of pink across his cheeks.

“Why did you worry about talking to me?” he asks, sitting upright and turning to face Reo directly. The other boy tenses for some reason. Nagi doesn’t always understand people, but he was confident that he and Reo would be together again. Blue Lock might temporarily separate them, make them rivals, force them to change and evolve independently. But Nagi hasn’t forgotten his promise to stick together until the end.

“I—no reason,” Reo says, eyes artificially bright. “I was—being stupid.”

Reo is the least stupid person Nagi knows. He charms everyone he meets, has a solution for every problem, and seems indomitable in every way. Well—he used to. Since losing to Team Z, Nagi became aware of the despair that can swamp his incredible friend. It’s lurking at the edges of this conversation, looming over them both, as the hand falls from Nagi’s hair and returns to its owner’s lap. Reo stares down at it, face hidden by his own hair.

Nagi reaches over to push the dangling purple strands behind Reo’s ears. He glances up, eyes wide. “Don’t worry, Reo,” he says quietly. “We’re where we’re supposed to be right now.”

Reo’s mouth hangs open as Nagi pulls away. Another yawn overtakes him, and when he reopens his eyes, Reo is composed and cheerful once more—although, his cheeks are pinker than before. “C’mon,” he says, standing then hunching over with his hands cupped behind his back. “Let’s compromise: I’ll give you a ride to the breakout room, if you promise not to doze off during the meeting.”

“Deeeeal,” Nagi drones, clambering onto Reo’s back and nuzzling into his shoulder.

[askdeoxys]

The Death of Deoxys PT2/10

[intro] [pt1+rules] [pt2] [pt3]

Deoxys barely sensed Xavier through his haze-- his mind too busy. Thoughts clouded him. "WhY diD yOu LiE tO Us?" It became second nature to him, of course. It was easier.

He felt a tug at his arm as his body was forcibly raised. Knuckles scraped against the ground, Deoxy attempted to find his footing. This was wrong.

They shouldn't be here.

Xavier huffed. They needed to leave, and they needed to leave now. "You ready?? We ain't stayin' here-- I can tell you that! Come'on, big man! We didn't come 'ere for nothin'!"

"..We?" The question was rhetorical. Deoxys sensed everything that transpired around him. His despair only grew in this moment.

This was all wrong.

They need to let him die.

They're only going to get hurt.

Then, just as Xavier had gotten Deoxys to his feet, Dioxys approached. It was too late.

"NO!" Screamed Deoxys, his hand flailed in the air. He touched nothing, for Xavier was gone. If he was in touch with his Psychic Well, he could have known what happened to the Dragon- where Xavier was sent. Unfortunately.., he was amiss, and Deoxys was none the wiser.

Deo rubbed the ground where Xavier just stood, and Dioxys loomed directly behind Deo. His glare downward with loathing.

Deoxys didn't even have a moment to mourn, for he realized he forgot about something. The mallet. Why did she have to come too?

A shadow in the dark-- a dark energy lunged forth. She thought she was hidden-- that the mallet was a clever disguise.

Silent steps across the ground, Chai attacked. This Invader needed to be taken down, and she had the perfect ambush.

Or, so she thought.

Just as Chai's feet left the air for her lunging attack, a firm grip throttled her. She could barely breath as she tried to stay conscious.

The ploy had failed. In fact, Dioxys had discovered the ambush before the two had even gotten close to the home. They had no chance, and neither did Deo. He attempted to help, and he attempted to save Chai.

However, Deo was held to the ground by Dioxys' sheer, immeasurable Psychic Well. How could he ever measure up? What could he do?

He tried, regardless, and he could do naught but struggle. Deo was stuck, and he could only watch Chai struggle to breath. He could only watch the consequences of his own actions.

"I had thought you the sense to stay in your disguise," Dioxys sneared, "But, you are akin to Deo. You are nothing. Useless." The Invader just sighed, disappointed.

"It is creatures like you that ruined Deo. Did you know that?" Dioxys started with a laugh. "I mean, this is.. This is incredible. How does this keep happening? How does Deo keep fooling people like you? How do you keep falling for it?" Chai was unable to respond, Dioxys' grip unrelenting on her throat. "You.. DO understand that you are fighting a battle with no purpose?"

"D'.. Stop.. Please," Deo barely muttered.

Dioxys ignored him. "You don't. Answering is unnecessary, don't worry. Every thought- every feeling in your body- I am aware of. You.. somehow like Deo? Hah. What a fool's errand.

Chai, that's your name, right? Listen, Chai, Deo enjoys the attention. He might even enjoy you on the occasion, but it is all empty. You're not his pick- You're not his one. You are not the one he falls asleep dreaming of. You are not the one he jumps to respond to. You are simply not the one who lingers in Deo's mind. That who lingers is one he will never have, for they will never want him. Pitiful, the both of you."

The Invader sighed once more, his gaze bored upon Chai. She just continued to struggle. So weak. "You think I am lying, don't you? Just to get in your head..-- just to hurt you? Everything I have spoken is the truth, and I will show you." Without another word, Dioxys transmitted all of Deoxys' feelings that he had just spoken of directly into Chai's mind.

"If you want to know the truth of Deo, I will tell you. I will reveal everything there is to Deo, and maybe then.. Maybe then, you will understand that this is the ending he deserves. He is a fake, he is empty, and he has left behind everyone that ever needed him. Deo is a miserable, little pile of secrets, and he has failed. It is over."

...Meanwhile...

...A creature stood at the front door...

Weed called out to no answer. Maybe Deoxys was asleep.. There was only one way to find out.

Weed entered the home.

[ @ecoxlar-maybe ]

Xavier and Chai @askpokereverie

Weed @occasional-weed

[enqmind]

As ever, I accept payment in kind words and follows.

Ghost/Female Reader WC: 1.8k 18+ content

Warnings: Suicide attempt by reader, gaslighting, manipulation, Local Manc has worst possible reaction to a suicide attempt, ~*self indulgence*~

Reader notes: Thin enough to fit into a standard bathtub, light enough to be lifted from a standard bathtub by Ghost, mentally ill, pale enough for noticable blushing (feel free to ignore), atheist (it's now plot relevant, but I'm not your dad), ≥ 5' - < 6' tall (by Ghost's estimate)

One Man's Treasure III

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 The idea that she’d recognise him just hadn’t occurred to him at all.

 He took great pains to cover his face so much of the time, after all. Surgical masks in the warmer months, balaclavas and scarves in the chillier ones.

 When could she have seen his bare face?

 Her surprise melted away into despair.

 “Oh, this is part of the punishment isn’t it? A constant reminder of my cowardice.”

 Yes, all those times she looked like she wanted to ask him something but didn’t.

 “Go on.”

 “I wanted to get to know my neighbours, but it never seemed like the right time.” She stared at his covered chest. “I just couldn’t stand to be a bother, you know?”

 The look on her face was all too familiar. She’d learned not to be a bother, probably the hard way.

 “Despite always covering his face, he’d seemed somehow more approachable. Like there was space in his life for a new friend. I was just always too scared to make that first move.” A sigh. “C’est la vie. Though not anymore, I suppose.”

 There, an in.

 “If he always covered his face, how do you know what he looks like?”

 A weak smile.

 “Happened to spot him when he was getting his post in the dead of night once. He looked exhausted, so I let him be.”

 Sometimes you were so tired that you’d dream of doing the rote thing that you did all the time. Unthinking action becoming nothing more than subconscious thought.

 It was really his bad luck that his neighbour happened to see, and a huge problem that he didn’t notice her.

 She started to pull away.

 Ghost put his hand on her back and stopped her.

 No, I’m not angry at you.

 “I, er… need a wee,” she mumbled.

 “Go ahead then,” he replied, removing his arm. “But come straight back, I don’t want you wandering around.”

 She nodded and shimmied her way off the bed.

 He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

 They’d have to move. He couldn’t keep her around her own flat, she’d want to get stuff from it.

 He pulled his phone from his pyjama pocket and texted Price.

 -I need extended leave and a house-

 Ghost would have to make an itemised plan and shopping list.

 As nice as her roaming around his house in his clothes was, she’d have to leave the flat eventually and she’d need her own clothes for that.

 He’d have to find a storage place to put her stuff until he figured out what to do with it and break her lease.

 Oh, right.

 He’d need to find out what her name was. That would be easy enough, she’d have post in her place.

 The sound of bare feet on carpet caught his attention.

 She was swimming in that shirt, he couldn’t even see the shorts. Just a very nice pair of legs cut off by his shirt. There could be anything or nothing under there.

 “Um…”

 His eyes snapped up to her face.

 Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips as she sat on the edge of the bed, twisting toward him. Hands toying with the edge of the shirt.

 “I’m hungry, can I use the kitchen? Please?”

 There was nothing in there but a half empty tub of LoSalt.

 “No. What do you want?”

 Her brow furrowed in mild confusion.

 “Um, anything will do. I can throw something together.”

 “We’re getting takeaway.”

 Her eyes widened.

 “I really don’t want to be a bother.”

 You’re not being a bother.

 Women liked Starbucks, right?

 He pulled up his app of choice.

 “Ham and cheese toastie.” He peered at her worried face. “Caramel latte?”

 “You really don-”

 “There’s no food in the kitchen.”

 There, that stopped her.

 “Oh. Yeah, that sounds fine.”

 He glanced at her.

 “And get in the bed. You’re cold.”

 Her arm went over her chest and she turned red.

 Ghost tugged at the duvet.

 “In.”

 She climbed into the bed, teetering near the edge.

 He patted the bed next to him as his phone pinged.

 -Elaborate-

 -Somewhere quiet with good transport links to Johnny’s-

 She shimmied closer.

 Yeah, somewhere quiet ought to make this whole thing easier to believe.

 Easy access to Johnny’s meant there’d be a good shot of his Mrs being able to check in on her. Which Mrs MacTavish would do, since she still cared about Ghost despite the fact that he knew that she knew that he was making faces at her under his mask. She had his number, and he respected that.

 He lay down his arm behind his neighbour, which caused her to pause for a moment.

 She stared at it, then lay down with his bicep as a neck pillow. Stiff as a board.

 Not the most comfortable position, but he could make it work. He bent his arm and rested his hand on her arm.

 It could be nicer, but this was nice enough for now.

 His phone pinged again.

 -Why?-

 “You’re really comfortable,” his neighbour mumbled, turning her head and smiling. “I was led to believe you’d be a lot bonier.”

 “That was before I started working out.”

 The smile turned into a full grin and she relaxed.

 -Suddenly gained a dependent-

 He felt a gentle touch on his side, her hand tentatively resting on him. He stared at it as it stood stark against his t-shirt.

 Ghost put his phone on his chest and immediately entwined their fingers.

 God, her hand was so small in his. He could crush the bones with little effort. Had women always been so delicate, or was this one special?

 She swallowed spit nervously.

 “Why-”

 His phone pinging interrupted her.

 Terrible timing.

 -How big is it?-

 -5 foot something-

 Now the phone was ringing.

 “Should I go?”

 He shook his head.

 “You stay, I need to turn the heating on anyway.”

 She sat up, releasing his arm without being asked.

 Thoughtful little thing.

 He briefly rubbed her back as he got up and answered the call.

 “What do you mean ‘five foot something’?” Price demanded.

 Ghost watched her roll into the warm path he left and snuggle under the duvet as he shut the door.

 “Didn’t ask her height.”

 A loud sigh came out of the phone as he went to switch on the boiler, pushing the temperature up a few extra degrees. Women ran cold, afterall.

 “There’s a limit to what we can sweep under the rug, Ghost. If you’ve kidnapped someone-”

 He half tuned Price out.

 Was this a kidnapping?

 Arguably he had taken her from her home without her consent; but, since she hadn’t yet attempted to leave, it was a moot point.

 He did want to think about her trying to leave.

 “I found her bleeding and about to drown in a bathtub,” he interjected. “A suicide attempt.”

 Silence.

 “Fourth or fifth try, she says.” He turned and stared at the bedroom door.

 Silence.

 Then, “you don’t sound like you’re in a hospital.”

 “Didn’t take her to a hospital.”

 More silence.

 “She’s in the other room and we’ve got breakfast coming.”

 “We need to talk about this.”

 “Yeah.”

 “What’s her name?”

 “Dunno yet.”

 “Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “Tell me the second you know, get all the information you can. I’m running a background check.”

 Ghost sighed.

 “You don’t need to, I-”

 “This isn’t a favour. It’s an order.”

 There was no arguing with that.

 No matter how unlikely it seemed, you could never be too safe.

 “Affirmative.”

 Another, brief, silence.

 “Don’t lose your head.”

 “I won’t, sir.”

 They ended the call, and Ghost leaned on the wall.

 Maybe he already had.

---

 Breakfast was about ten minutes away when he went back into the bedroom.

 His neighbour was wrapped up like a jacket potato. It was… cute.

 “So, what were you going to ask?” he prompted, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on what he assumed was her hip.

 Her lips pursed for a moment, but then she gave him a nervous smile.

 “Um, why does this place have the same layout as my flat?”

 Shit. He’d lucked out before, but— yes. He’d lucked out, and still was lucking out really.

 “Where else would your neighbour live?”

 Her brows drew into a frown.

 “I… suppose?” she paused. “...Am I doing this?”

 “Doing what?”

 She wriggled out an arm and motioned around.

 “Making it like this?”

 The suspicion in her voice was worrisome, but nothing a simple lie couldn’t cover. Even if he would prefer to avoid actively voicing them.

 “What were you expecting the afterlife to be like?” he questioned. He’d have to fit her beliefs as much as he could, afterall.

 She looked at him with less confusion and more like he was a bit thick.

 “Nothing. I’m an atheist, remember? This is all a surprise.”

 “You really have no preconceived notions of the afterlife?”

 “Now you’ve taken hell off the table? No.”

 Did that mean he could tell her whatever he wanted… and she’d believe it?

 “I don’t know much myself,” he began, gently rubbing her hip through the duvet. “Normally when I take people to the hereafter, it’s a swift affair.”

 “Tha-that sounds about right,” she agreed, not a hint of suspicion in her.

 Yeah, the truth was the best lie, wasn’t it?

 “But what I do know is that when someone dies by a human hand, their afterlives are picking up where they left off.”

 Data point of one, but did that really even matter? It was true, his truth.

 Fear hit her like a tonne of bricks, eyes already beginning to get shiny with tears.

 She sat up in a scramble and grabbed at his t-shirt.

 “Please don’t. I’m begging you, please don’t send me back.”

 The punch to his gut of guilt took him by surprise, forcing an instinctual response.

 He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to his chest.

 “Never.”

 She sniffled into his shirt.

 “Promise?”

 He pulled back and tipped her chin so they could meet eye to eye.

 “No need. You don’t want your life, but I do. And I don’t give up what’s mine easy.”

 It was as that statement left his mouth he realised how fucked up it was. How it would scare her away, back into a life she hated.

 His arms twitched, ready to pin her to him at the slightest sign of an escape attempt.

 She stared at him blankly for a few moments before she broke into a nervous smile.

 “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, I suppose.”

 Relief washed over him and he allowed himself a small smile.

 “That’s right, you’re my treasure.”

 A nervous smile became an embarrassed blush.

 “But… I don’t even know what to call you.”

 What should he tell her to call him? Because whatever it was, it would be forever.

 There was really only one option.

 “Simon.”