#I SEE THOSE SHARP LINES /POS
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skeletoninthemelonland · 8 months ago
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HOOOOOOOO
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THE LEG SPEED BOOST FEATURE IS A GREAT IDEA THO !!!!!
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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago
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The Promise of Us: Chapter 26
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Daryl
Sweat drips down Daryl’s back, heavy and hot, as he shovels dirt for the graves of the people they lost. Each thrust of the shovel, each bead of sweat feels like a eulogy, the hard work paying respect to those who were lost without having to form the words. Patrick, who had earnestly shaken his hand yesterday, trying to show gratitude. Daryl can still feel the awkwardness of that moment, unsure how to respond beyond a grunt and a nod. And Charlie, always trying to make people laugh. Even on days when Daryl was stuck deep in his reclusive moods, Charlie’s stupid jokes would manage to tug a reluctant smirk from him.
Y/N works beside him, her deep breaths steady and determined, a reminder that they’re not doing this alone. The sound of their shovels hitting the earth becomes rhythmic, almost meditative. He sneaks a glance at her, feeling a familiar warmth twist in his chest. She’s sweaty and focused, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, the rest pulled back in a ponytail that he has the strangest urge to run his fingers through. His chest tightens a bit, realizing how drawn he is to her even in moments like this. But he pushes it down—there’s no room for those kinds of thoughts now.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulls him from his thoughts. Y/N stops too, both of their senses sharp. Rick comes into view, his gaze downcast. Daryl shares a silent look with Y/N—just a quick check-in, a wordless understanding.
“Glad you were in there,” Daryl mutters to Rick before returning to the grave, digging with renewed vigor.
“I’m not much use without my gun,” Rick replies, his voice low. There’s something simmering beneath his words, regret maybe, but Daryl doesn’t push.
“No, you were,” Daryl insists, pulling down his bandana. His breathing is heavy, each inhale burning his throat. Y/N sets her shovel down and turns fully toward Rick.
“All this time you’ve been takin’ off,” she says gently, her voice steady. “You earned it. We wouldn’t be here without you.”
Rick’s eyes flicker with something like guilt. He bends down, grabbing an extra shovel with a tired groan. “It was all of us,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his tone.
“Nah,” Daryl says, “It was you first,” he turns to look up at him then, “You gonna help us figure this out?”
Rick shrugs, shaking his head, “I screwed up too many times. Those calls you gotta make, I start down that road
 I almost lost my boy–who he was,”
Daryl knows the weight Rick carries, the struggle to accept his role as a leader again. He glances at Y/N, who’s staring down at the dirt, her expression distant. They both refused to join the council, haunted by their own regrets. Daryl gets it—he’s been down that road too many times himself. But he also knows that Rick’s authoritarian streak after the farm wasn’t just about control—it was survival. They needed someone to make the hard calls, even if it meant crossing lines. Y/N’s refusal to lead came from a different place—a deep-seated guilt over Shane, over Randall. She’s kept her distance from planning, sticking to runs and patrols, always ready to fight. Yet, Daryl often finds himself following her lead, rather than the other way around.
“Whatever else this place needs, I’m here for it,” Rick says then, exhaling roughly.
“Like she said, you earned it,” Daryl replies. He digs the shovel into the ground again, his voice gruff but earnest.  “But for what it’s worth–you see mistakes, I see when the shit hits, you’re standing’ there with a shovel right with us,”
Y/N nods quietly, picking up her shovel. They resume digging, the weight of the past momentarily eased by the rhythm of the work.
Suddenly, Maggie’s voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and urgent. “Rick! Daryl! Y/N!” She’s running up the hill, panic clear in her tone. Daryl’s heart jolts, and he freezes, glancing at Y/N before turning toward Maggie. She’s waving them over, already heading back toward the fence.
They sprint toward the outer fence, their feet pounding the ground. As they get closer, the sight of it makes Daryl’s stomach drop. The fence is swarming with walkers, a seething mass of decaying bodies pressing hard against the chain links. It’s bending under the sheer weight, the metal groaning like it’s about to give out.
“Oh, shit,” Rick snarls, his voice rough with urgency. They all bolt toward the outer walkway, adrenaline propelling their legs faster. The cacophony of growling is so loud that they have to shout in order to hear each other. Y/N reaches the gate first, grabbing one of the heavy metal poles hanging nearby. She drives it into the forehead of a walker with a sickening crunch. Daryl’s right behind her, his crossbow slung over his back as he grabs another tool and starts jabbing at the skulls pushing against the fence. Each impact is a brutal burst of violence, but it’s not enough. For every walker they bring down, two more seem to press forward, adding more dead weight to the already straining fence.
“The noise drew ’em in!” Maggie shouts, her voice strained as she stabs a walker through the eye socket.
The fence groans louder, metal creaking under the relentless pressure. Panic is spreading among them, each glance upward revealing the terrifying sight of the fence bowing inward. The links rattle, holding on by sheer force of will, and Daryl knows it’s only a matter of time before they all go down.
Everyone is there—Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Daryl, Y/N, and a handful of others—all working furiously, their movements desperate and raw. Each swing, stab, and push feels like a race against time. Sweat stings Daryl’s eyes, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, but he can’t afford to slow down. The walkers are so close that the stench of rot fills the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Y/N grunts with exertion beside him, her arms straining as she keeps driving the pole into one skull after another. Daryl catches sight of her out of the corner of his eye, her expression a mix of fierce determination and raw fear. He knows she’s thinking the same thing he is—they’re barely keeping up.
Daryl’s eyes go back to the fence, and he shouts, “Heads up!”
“This part of the fence, now!” Sasha screams as she runs over, and everyone is back to pushing metal rods through walker’s angry heads, but one has climbed over the rest, pressing down onto the top.
“Woa!” Y/N shouts, lurching backwards, and everyone steps back, looking up.
“It’s gonna give! It’s gonna give!” Glenn shouts, and everyone’s hands suddenly come up, trying to hold the fence up where walkers can’t reach with their gnarled teeth. The pressure on the fence is so strong that walkers are being pushed through the chain links, their decaying skin bursting through the gaps as more bodies lean into it.
“Everybody, back, get back now!” Daryl’s voice shouts over the chorus of growling and grunting from both people and walkers, and he grabs Y/N’s shoulder to pull her away from them. 
“The fence keeps bending in like that, the walkers are coming right over!” She shouts back at him, as they all watch in horror.
Rick pauses, looking around for answers, and suddenly Daryl sees his eyes land on the barn inside. 
“Daryl, get the truck,” he says, voice tight as he rubs his eyes, “I know what to do,”
â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„ăƒ»ăƒ»â„
You
“You don’t need to help with this. I’m goin’ right out there,” Daryl says gently as you walk beside him to the truck. His voice is low, a rough whisper that almost cracks under the weight of what they’re about to do. Your eyes burn, misty with unshed tears, as you catch sight of Rick in the truck bed, the piglets squealing in their wooden box. The sound twists your gut, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hating every second of this plan. But the need to stay close to Daryl whenever he’s outside the fence overwhelms your dread.
“No, I should come,” you say quickly, voice tight. “You might need backup—”
But before you can finish, Daryl’s hand cups your face, calloused fingers warm against your skin. He shakes his head, eyes locked on yours, steady and unyielding.
“No, Y/N. Stay.” His voice is rough but achingly soft. The intensity in his eyes holds you in place, a silent plea that reaches deeper than words. You glance back at Rick, hesitation pulling at you, but Daryl’s grip tightens slightly, guiding your gaze back to him.
“Please, stay,” he murmurs, voice barely audible over the squeals of the piglets. It’s a rare vulnerability that makes your heart ache.
You swallow hard, feeling the moisture finally spill over your lashes. You give him a shaky nod, chest heavy as you force yourself to turn away. You break into a run, heading for the walkway between the outer fence and the yard. There’s no time to lose—the walkers are still pressing against the fence, and you need to keep pushing your weapon into their heads, trying to thin the herd enough for the truck to make it out safely.
The growls of the walkers fill the air as you work, thrusting the blade into skulls with a mix of anger and desperation. You catch a glimpse of the truck moving past the gates, Rick and Daryl ready to lead the walkers away. Your heart pounds, fear and helplessness surging through you as they disappear from view.
You squeeze your eyes shut as the shrill squeals of the piglets fill the air, the sound cutting straight through you. Rick grabs them from the truck bed one by one, releasing them into the grass with a deep gash in their sides as Daryl drives away. You hate every moment of it, but it works—the walkers turn, their attention shifting as they lurch after the fleeing pigs. The plan is working.
You step back from the fence, your breaths ragged with a mix of relief and lingering dread. Glenn appears beside you, his hand firm on your shoulder. His touch is a grounding force, a silent reassurance that you’re not alone in this nightmare.
You look over to where Maggie stands, keeping her distance to avoid exposure to the sickness. Despite the physical distance, the pain in her eyes as she glances at you says everything—it's all the support she can offer from where she is, and right now, it’s enough.
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Later on, you’re beside Rick, dismantling the pigs’ shelter. The wood clatters loudly as you pile it up, the harsh sounds underscoring the heavy silence that hangs between you. The weight of the afternoon feels suffocating, and neither of you speaks—there’s too much to say, yet no words that would ease the burden.
Carl approaches, drawing Rick’s attention. You overhear their conversation, something about keeping Judy safe, and you do your best to stay focused on your work. But then Carl’s voice drops lower, more serious, and you can’t help but listen closer. Carl admits that Carol had been teaching the kids how to use weapons during story time. How to kill.
“The parents dont know,” Carl says, glancing at you before back at his father, “And she doesn't want you to know. I think you should let her, though,”
Rick’s jaw tightens as he pauses, absorbing the information. He nods toward you, gesturing to the gas can. You grab it wordlessly and hand it to him. It’s a quiet exchange as you try to keep from listening in too much.
“Dad?” Carl presses, his voice barely audible. Rick is already pouring gasoline over the woodpile, each splash adding to the tension in the air. He turns to his son, the weight of the decision clear in his eyes.
“Thank you for telling me,” Rick says quietly.
You stand beside them, your hands steady as you flick open your Zippo and hold the flame to the soaked wood. The fire catches instantly, flames roaring to life and consuming the woodpile in seconds. The heat is fierce, almost too much, but you still feel a chill up your spine.
“I won’t stop her,” Rick says behind you, his voice rough and strained. “I won’t say anything.”
He’s silent for a moment, and you sense the deep conflict within him—between protecting the children and accepting that survival demands hard choices. Eventually, he walks toward his toolbox, motioning for Carl to follow. You keep your distance, knowing the moment is private. But as you glance over, you catch the glint of a gun in Rick’s hand, gleaming under the harsh sunlight. He passes it to Carl, a quiet acknowledgment of trust that’s been rebuilt over the past six months.
Rick reattaches his own holster, loading his gun before securing it at his waistband. Carl walks away, his expression serious, and Rick returns to stand beside you by the fire. You share a silent look, the unspoken understanding of two people who have weathered so much together. The quiet testament to how much it means for him to be putting his gun back on again. His eyes find the fire, looking much further than the flames. 
Your eyes trace over him—his knit brows, the graying stubble mingling with the brown of his beard, his blue eyes haunted by the thought of reclaiming a role he’s desperate to avoid. Without realizing it, you reach out, your fingers brushing the buttons of his bloodied shirt. He flinches at the unexpected touch but then exhales slowly, allowing you to continue.
You unbutton the shirt gently, your fingers moving carefully down the stained fabric. The metallic stench of pig’s blood mixed with sweat is overpowering, but you focus on the task, pushing the shirt off his shoulders, the skin of his chest and stomach smooth except for the scars he’s collected over time, hidden by the curly dark hair that grows slightly there. His eyes stay fixed on your face, a silent mix of exhaustion and gratitude. You crumple the shirt in your hands and toss it into the fire. The flames consume it quickly, the fabric curling and blackening until it’s gone.
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sparks-chaotic-cove · 4 months ago
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Something I haven't seen mentioned that kind of broke my heart in yesterday's bound lore (Rune, 9/5/24) was the bit about Vast and his claws-
Vast comes in to see Rune on the floor, in a corner- in an enclosed space, with broken glasses and a bleeding face. And then she learns that it was Vivianna who did that. Who hurt Rune.
And Vast knows about those claws.
He knows how they hurt, how they draw blood, how she smiles and teases as if she's done nothing wrong. And he begins to panic- because things could've gone so much worse. I mean, if Vee did this upon her first interaction with Rune, how brave would she get down the line? How much would she hurt him? How much harm could she do with those claws?
How much could he do with his own?
Vivianna could hurt Rune, yes- but so could Vast. I mean he has claws. And they're sharp. Just like Vee's. What if she accidentally hurts Rune, slicing when they didn't mean to, leaving scars upon his dandelion's skin? He's dangerous.
Additionally- Vee's back. She's back for him. Vast doesn't want to go back, she doesn't want to do anything, she wants to get as far away from those who have lied to him his entire life, carved words into his back and gifted him wings from a fallen child that they slaughtered themselves for nothing more than being a little bit too weak, or too slow- Vee wants to corner him like a frightened dog and slice her claws across his skin and drag him around until she gets what she wants.
But really, the fear isn't of Vee- it's that he could be like her. He might be like her. But Rune immediately assures him that he's not. And that he never will be.
and it hurts my soul (in a /pos way)
And Vast's mind travels down this rabbit trail, stumbling along the way. It's heartbreaking to hear- and just such a testament of how good at acting that all the creators are, especially in a medium such as minecraft.
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lets-try-some-writing · 10 months ago
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Whims of the Fae Chapter 2
The fae always have little schemes to set in motion. Megatron is no exception. However even he couldn’t predict the outcome of Orion’s plan. Evidently the Head Archivist had not seen fit to make it clear that their attempt to make a puppet Prime to get in and work with the Council involved parenthood. 
This was not part of the plan. But there wasn’t exactly much to do about it now.
━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━
The prototype melting in the prepared pool of energon wasn’t exactly
 a comforting sight. Still, Megatron had seen worse in the pits. Mecha being disemboweled was infinitely worse than watching Optronix slowly turn into a strange glowing white goo. Still, he wasn’t exactly the most patient when it came to these sorts of things. They needed a puppet to carry the Matrix, and they needed that puppet as soon as possible. Megatron wasn’t familiar with enchanting or the finer details of being fae born, not after having been raised in the pits by prototypes. Despite that, he was fairly certain that turning their potential puppet into goo wasn’t the right way to go about converting the puppet into one of their Court.
“Orion, what did you mean when you called him our ‘little sprite’?” He questioned as the goo in the pool began to clump up, wires and other strange things resembling bones forming amidst the mess. It was somewhat disturbing to watch if he was honest.
“Why I thought I made myself rather clear. He is now of our line, the heir of our domain, and the ones from which we hail.” Orion smiled his regular eerie smile, his denta sharp as blades and on full display in that wicked manner Megatron took vorns to fully come to terms with. His Conjunx grinned, a gleeful undertone to his field as he hurried about collecting items Megatron personally found strange. 
“My love, watch the pool and do alert me the moment it begins to pulse.” Orion merrily went about his business, vanishing deep into the sea of shelves and leaving Megatron to watch the pool. He grimaced as he watched wires and cables begin to slither within, connecting to mass in the center of the pool which was rapidly developing. He could make out a vague shape within, something almost akin to a sparkling in size. 
His spark flared in momentary concern as the wires connected to the developing frame within the pool, but he dismissed those growing fears easily. Surely this was all part of the process. The prototype would finish his reconstruction and emerge ready to be taught the ways of the fae. Just like Megatron, he would struggle. But under their dutiful care, he would flourish and be the perfect puppet. Already Optronix had shown strength of character, and for that reason alone, Megatron allowed himself a faint smile.
He was going to be a fantastic ally once he adjusted to the horrors of the realm of the fae. Megatron would stand with him all the way, offering comfort and guidance for a mech brought into the fold. 
The pleasant image of companionship with a fellow low caste mech had Megatron smiling wider and left his thoughts to drift toward plans for the future. He could already see the future ahead of him. Optronix would learn the ways of the fae and grow into a warrior Megatron could count on. Perhaps even one cycle they could even be friends in the manner of prototypes rather than the transactional ways of the fair folk. It was a pleasant thought to consider.
He almost didn’t notice as the wires and cables grew larger, pulsing and transferring energon from the pool into the body growing within a strange translucent sac. But any and all wistful musing faded entirely when the entire thing began to thrum, the wires pulsing and the walls of the sac threatening to tear. 
Was this part of the process? Surely this couldn’t be right. The frame within the sac wasn’t nearly large enough to match a grown mech. Something must have gone horribly wrong.
“ORION!” He called out vocally and across their bond, urging his Conjunx to return as swiftly as possible as light began to filter into the strange pod, swirling around the tiny frame within and seemingly imbuing it. Then, within a nanoklik, Orion was beside him.
“Calm yourself, beloved. All is well. The sprite is doing just fine. We need only give him his birthright.” Orion’s servo lingered on his shoulder as Megatron stood at the edge of the pool, looking between the sac and his Conjunx in confusion. Perhaps there was a part of the process yet to be completed, a finalization of sorts that would give Optronix the boost he needed to complete his transformation. Yes, that had to be it. Megatron trusted Orion far more than he trusted his own judgment when it came to these things. 
“What must we do?” He questioned cautiously as the sac continued to pulse. Orion’s field shifted momentarily, a sign that he was calling upon his gifts for power. He tried not to look too closely as Orion’s smile grew beyond the confines of his face and his vistage changed, his frame growing until it began a mess of wires, pixels, and optics. He did all he could to keep his optics on the sac as Orion stepped into the now very shallow pool and hovered above the tiny frame growing there.
“Awaken sprite.”
Orion’s voice rang out clearly in the Archives, his vocalizer still producing clear and symphonic words despite the state of his frame. In response, the sac pulsed again, a crack running along its surface. Orion then called out to Megatron silently, his intention clear as one of many optics settled on him. Megatron swiftly complied and joined him in the pool.
“I, Orion Pax, creation of Codexa and student of Alpha Trion, accept this sprite into my line as my heir. My gifts are his to obtain and my power his to harvest from.”
Orion reached out to the pod, one of his many limbs resting upon its surface and his wires wrapping around it in a fond manner. The being within spasmed, small and hazy limbs flailing as Optronix endured a wave of what Megatron could only assume was Orion’s influence. Blue light almost as bright as fresh energon flowed from Orion’s wires and digits, trickling down to the pod and turning a deep abyssal black as it reached the developing being within. Optronix almost appeared to be in pain based on how his small frame twitched in time with the black creeping along him.
“Speak Megatronus. Accept him as your own.”
Orion’s voice broke Megatron from his thoughts, and he quickly met his beloved’s gaze. A dozen optics glanced at him and then to the pod, a silent order. Megatron hesitated, confusion running rampant in his mind as he struggled to figure out what he was even supposed to be doing.
“Quickly beloved. The time draws near. He does not have much left to accept.” 
It was a warning Megatron did not understand, but one he took to spark without hesitation. He ran through what Orion had said as he approached the pod, and adjusting a few words, Megatron repeated it and laid a servo on the pod.
“I, Megatronus of Kaon, sprite of the mines and Champion of the pits, accept this sprite into my line as my heir. My gifts are his to obtain and my power his to harvest from.”
Megatron waited for a nanoklik, feeling nothing had happened despite having uttered the words. However, just as he prepared to pull away, instinct tore at his rational mind and took control. Without his direct consent, his influence spread throughout his frame, forcing him to grow larger, more intimidating. Runes and glyphs of power came into being all around him and his Conjunx as his influence joined the black that crawled along Optronix’s frame. Red turned to white and fought against the creeping gloom that was his Conjunx’s influence.
Again, Optronix spasmed, his frame shifting within the goo that held him. The black of Orion’s influence held sway over most of Optronix’s form, but Megatron’s influence was still prominent. The instincts that guided him told him that this meant he had been successful. In what, he had no idea.
“Perfect. He is ready.” Orion pulled away, his frame returning to its normal state after a series of unsettling clicks and a hiss of static. Megatron followed his Conjunx’s lead, his instincts settling into the back of his processor where they belonged. He was not given time to contemplate what in the name of the thirteen had come over him before Orion’s monstrous grin grew to a disproportionate size, and he stabbed his servo directly into the pod. 
Megatron could feel his expression shift into one of absolute horror as Orion reached in, groped around in the goo, and then grabbed one of Optronix’s still underdeveloped limbs to rip him free. Wires and cables snapped in a spray of energon and the sac collapsed in on itself with little fanfare. Distantly, Megatron was grateful this whole affair had occurred within the energon pool, otherwise he would be left to clean up the mess for likely the next few deca-cycles.
“There you are, little sprite!” Orion practically cooed as he held the
 thing up by its leg. Megatron took a step back as he observed the creature and promptly came to the conclusion that whatever it was, it was no longer Optronix the dock worker. 
“Oh dear, you poor thing. You must be chilled.” Orion hurriedly moved toward the table a few feet away. Megatron for his part couldn’t tear his optics off the creature as he followed on instinct. As it was laid on the table, he felt the urge to purge.
The thing had the general shape of a sparkling. It had what looked like some sort of helm, a torso, legs, and two arms. But that was where any familiarity ended on a biological scale. The thing, whatever it was, looked horribly malformed. Its limbs were too long, and it had an extra arm for no apparent reason. Holes ran along its helm, giving a clear view of where its processor fired, exposed and delicate. Transformation seams crawled along its face, meeting around the two largest holes where Megatron assumed optics were.
Spines grew along its arms and back in no particular pattern or size, each varying and differing from one another in formation. Its internal components were all but exposed, guarded only by structures akin to calipers that held everything in place. Megatron could see its tanks and various other organs pulsing and squirming enough to make him sick. He wouldn’t have believed the thing was even Cybertronian if not for the spark chamber that was clear to see, flaring openly as the source of life that it guarded glowed powerfully within.
“Orion, what in the pits is this thing?” Megatron questioned in disbelief as the thing squirmed, its small clawed servos grasping at nothing. The thing must have been blind for the most part. It had optics, small pinpricks within the dual voids that served as its optical sockets. However those small optics flickered, only coming online in swift bursts. What a strange and disgusting creature. This couldn’t have been right.
“This is our sprite. He is still very young yet, and he will take time to develop, but he is ours. Already he has accepted a great deal of our influence. I believe he may have even inherited your shoulders!” Megatron was sure he was making quite the expression as he struggled to hold back a gag. The thing didn’t look anything like either of them in Megatron’s opinion, but he wasn’t given the chance to get much of a word in before Orion was rubbing the little monster down with a soft towel.
“That thing
 its-” Megatron began before a digit was pressed against his derma, stopping him from speaking. How Orion moved so quickly was beyond him, but Megatron remained silent as Orion pulled back slowly with an expression that practically embodied the concept of a warning.
“It is bad luck to speak poorly of a sprite my love. It weakens them, shifting them into something darker that must be destroyed.” Orion reached out to the thing, the sprite, Megatron reminded himself. The sprite flailed but did not fight back, or perhaps was unable to do so as Orion wrapped its torso in an embroidered blanket, leaving only its back still exposed. That much Megatron could endure looking at without wanting to throw the sprite out the nearest window.
“You mean it could become a demon?” Megatron found himself questioning as Orion propped the sprite up on a pillow. The little thing was laid out flat on its stomach, its helm and most of its upper body resting on the pillow. It didn’t so much as murmur as its optics flickered on and offline. 
“Do not speak in such a manner around him. You will harm his development. But to answer your question, yes. All young sprites can become demons if they are not tended to properly, especially those turned as he was.” A soft clang echoed in the space as Orion picked up a needle-like tool Megatron was unfamiliar with. The Archfae made a contemplative click and traced his digits over the sprite’s back, most likely coming up with something terrifying based on what Megatron knew of his Conjunx. 
“I give you the wings of the wood. May they carry you to safety and the wind favor you in your journeys.”
The Archivist’s words came in a whisper that was uttered like a prayer. As he spoke, his digits moved with delicateness Megatron usually found were reserved for when Orion handled him. The needle dug into the sprite’s back, prompting the thing to squirm up until Orion began to sing a soft song, his influence wrapping around the little creature lovingly. If it weren’t for how hideous the thing was, Megatron would have found the scene lovely.
Before long, Orion had etched a strange swirling design onto the sprite’s back. It was vaguely in the shape of insect wings and covered in all sorts of runes and symbols Megatron did not recognize, but as soon as it was done, the lines began to glow. The whole etching pulsed with the sprite’s spark, flaring softly in the relative gloom of the archive. The sprite squirmed again, and Orion was quick to collect the little thing and wrap it, him, up properly. 
“Do we give him his name now?” Megatron found himself questioning as Orion began to walk through the archives, leaving Megatron to follow behind him. Orion made a sound that bordered on an outraged huff before he gave Megatron that look, the one he reserved for when Megatron was missing something most fae found obvious.
“Of course not! He’s a sprite! Giving him his full name now would kill him! No, no, he will be given a placeholder name until he is old enough to bear the burden.” Orion cradled the sprite as if the little creature would turn into smoke in his arms if he so much as loosed his hold. Megatron shrank in on himself internally, but otherwise said nothing as he followed his Conjunx down the ever shifting halls of the Archives. 
Eventually, they made their way down one hall Megatron knew well. It was one of the few that rarely changed, and it led directly to his and Orion’s room. Megatron had long ago come to the conclusion that Orion had pulled some strings to keep this part of the archives stables just so that Megatron wouldn't get lost. He did that a lot when they were first Conjunxed.
“Here we are!” Orion sounded so very proud when he finally stopped in front of a door that had absolutely not been there a cycle ago. Megatron wasn’t given much time to gawk before Orion pushed the door open and stepped in. The room beyond was strange even to Megatron. Plants he didn’t recognize covered almost every single surface and the walls were covered from top to bottom in various articles and images, more than a few of which seemed to be of Optronix. 
Strange vines grew along the walls, pulsing with lights and draping down in places to wrap around objects in the general shape of shelves. Roots grew along the floor, smooth and yet undeniably there. They shifted as Orion walked in, moving away to give him an easier path to tread. Long branches hung from the center of the room above what looked like a hollowed out stump of some ancient and malevolent plant. The branches grew odd looking fruits, some in blue and purple, others in red and white. All in different shapes.
Megatron was immediately met with hissing the moment his pedes touched the ground.
“Hush now! He is the sprite’s Sire!” Orion flicked one of the plants closest to him and it visibly shrank back a degree. The whole room thrummed with life. There was no natural light, but the ceiling glittered like stars as the flowers growing from the vines bloomed all at once, as if sensing Orion’s presence. 
“There we are my dear. I do believe you need a temporary name, don’t you?” Orion leaned down, placing the sprite into the vicious looking cradle. The stump shifted as Orion laid the sprite down. The sharp upper edges smoothed and curved inward, creating a partial cover over the top of where the sprite lay. Orion gazed down lovingly at the little monster, his smile so content that it no longer held any of his usual cunning.
Megatron may have despised looking at the sprite, but if it made Orion this happy-
He was willing to put up with it.
“What shall we call him for now my love?” Orion asked as he reached into the cradle with a single digit. Megatron approached and watched as Orion prodded at the sprite until it instinctively held onto his digit. The little thing’s clawed servos were tiny, so small in fact that he could barely get a grip on Orion’s digit at all. 
So very small
 it couldn’t have been healthy. Even normal sparklings were far larger upon their creation. For this one to be at its current size, it indicated potential problems later. However, he wanted to have faith in Orion’s judgment. This was all going according to plan, it had to be. 
“He is rather small. So why not call him the Little One for now?” Megatron suggested as the sprite shifted, revealing more of its exposed innards than Megatron would have liked. Orion tisked as Megatron held back a gag, but before either could say more, a new voice spoke up. 
“I second that name. It will help him avoid prying optics until he is strong enough to stand a chance against the lower fae.” Megatron startled as Ravage of all mechs sauntered out of the shadows as if he hadn’t just been absent a moment prior. Orion hummed in agreement, oblivious or perhaps uncaring of Megatron’s momentary distress.
“I agree. It is a good name for him.” Orion’s smile widened again, all but splitting his face in two as he rested his arms on the edge of the cradle, his helm placed on his forearms as if nothing were wrong with the situation by any other standard.
“Our little one
” Orion hummed, and it was a soothing sound that eased all of Megatron’s concerns. If Orion wasn’t worried, Megatron had no need to concern himself. 
“I trust you will tend to him when I cannot?” Orion raised an optical ridge over in Ravage’s direction. The symbiote merely huffed and nodded.
“Of course. Soundwave wouldn’t let me return in one piece if I failed you, Grand Archfae.” Ravage bowed as much as a mech of his station was able. Orion merely maintained his grin before he took Megatron’s servo in his own. Those wide and oh so cunning optics were all but glued to him as Orion spoke again.
“Ravage shall tend to the little one for a while. But I suspect it has been a startling cycle for you my love. Come rest with me in berth and soothe your anxious spark.” Megatron didn’t have much time to reply before the plants hissed and Orion all but dragged him out. 
He had become a Sire in less than a cycle and as it was, he didn’t want to think about that or anything it implied, not when Orion was offering a pleasant evening.
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randomwriteronline · 10 months ago
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"Come dance with us, Takanuva," Kopaka says.
Takanuva startles: his eyes fall on the Toa before him for a moment before turning again to the Ko-Matoran festivities. Further away from them Nuju looks thoughtful.
"I never learned any Ko-Koro dances," he replies, quietly, sheepishly.
"They can be taught," Kopaka just says without batting an eye, his welcoming hand extended.
It's familiarly cold when Takanuva accepts it.
He is pulled to his feet, but does not yet join the celebrations. His brother takes him a little to the side so their slowness won't be bothersome to those much more confident in their dancing.
"Your right arm," Kopaka instructs, showing him the right movement; Takanuva mirrors him. The Toa of Ice's gaze turns half-lid. "Right arm."
The Toa of Light looks down.
He quickly changes limb.
His brother nods.
Ko-Koro dances are rhythmic, harsh, heavy, powerful, Takanuva finds out as he follows along - like breaking ice into enormous blocks: motions that in Onu-Koro are lighter become heavy enough to sink in the snow, strikes that in Ta-Koro are faster turn slower to build up momentum, swings that in Po-Koro are more calculated appear sharp enough to cut through stone; they maintain a certain minute grace despite it, like certain Le-Koro leaps or the ways they move their hands in Ga-Koro, and the Toa of Light tries his best to imitate it. The songs they dance to are instead thin and crystalline despite the strict pronunciation of their dialect, their pitch high and strong like wind through the icicles as the Matoran circle the bonfire.
The warm glow flicks across the spectacled white mask with a brilliant flicker, and as Takanuva watches it entranced a thought runs through him - are Ice and Light not the same element?
"Very well," Kopaka praises gently, "Very well."
He fixes his eyes on Takanuva and sees him.
It stuns the younger Toa when he realizes it, just for a second: he sees him. He doesn't see through him, past him, before him, he just sees him - he sees Takua, he sees Takanuva, when it would be so easy to superimpose someone else on him, someone whose armor was also grey and white, who was not quite as he seemed, who was much more than what he seemed, if one in a way so different from the other.
(But was it so different, in the end?)
"Very well," Kopaka repeats with the voice he has when he smiles without showing it.
Takanuva straightens his spine.
Nuju breaks their concentration, chittering and chirping and clawing at the air: Kopaka nods, whistles something that sounds in intention like 'coming, Turaga', and kindly pushes his brother among the cheering Matoran who welcome him without questioning his presence as another song commences and with it another dance.
Takanuva stumbles, unsure. Kopeke pulls his arm and shows him how to start before his Ice brother can do so himself; Ehrye yells out the chorus to the song, to teach it to him, but he messes up a line or two in his hurry before he gets it right, and so it has to start again.
Kopaka sings, too. His voice is powerful, rolling out of him like an avalanche.
Takanuva just listens at first, dancing as best as he can, slowly forgetting to look at his feet and arms and starting to have fun. He meets Nuju's eyes: the Turaga smiles calmly, content.
He starts off murmuring the chorus so softly that he can barely hear himself, volume rising slowly with each repeat; at last he's bellowing it out, syllables a little wrong but voice clear, by his brother's side, dancing just like him, singing just like him, in a crowd of whites and azures and greys that reflect the bonfire's shining light into a thousand stars like quartz prisms, until his throat feels sore and he's stumbling and laughing while holding onto the Toa of Ice's arms breathless and so very happy.
"You're a good dancer, Takanuva," Kopaka smiles at him.
"Thank you, brother," Takanuva replies, and among the dozens of things he is thanking him for on the forefront are welcoming him in his loneliness, and seeing him.
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psycheetamore · 2 months ago
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Choosing to follow destiny
Chapter 4 – New opportunities
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Pre notes with this chapter: Step by step. Nice and slow. First published on AO3
Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, the typical Feyd tags (smut, violance, non-con/rape etc), imaginary suicide, see for full tags: chapter 1 - the author regrets nothing
Word count: 1.4k
Link to previous chapter
+++
Yaina woke up the morning after the celebration to find Paul squatting in the corner of the space where she slept.
It was fortunate that she managed to get a room, however small, to sleep by herself. Bakyi pulled some strings, after he saw how the news of the massacre of Arrakeen impacted her. The weeklong expedition, the continuous strain and responsibility for her soldiers that she endured, and now the backlash from the Beast; it was catching up with her. Usually, she would sleep in one of the male dorm rooms or join her fighting partners. But now Yaina was too tired to object against this preferential treatment. She allowed it once. She did not have the energy to protest.
She fortunately felt a blanket covering her entire frame, she knew her daggers were below the cloths she used as a backpack, and her breastband was packed away in her backpack. She was safe, safe from discovery and safe from any unexpected situations.
Paul had been looking at a sleeping Yaina for a while. He saw her topple and turn in her bed. He heard her mumbling in her sleep, but could not make up the words. At a certain moment he noticed a glistering coming from below her pillow. Clearly, she never departed her daggers. “Smart man” is what Paul thought, “prepared for adversity at any moment”.
“Yaina.”
She looked up at him.
“The Sadus - Yaina is what they call you.” Paul said, while he continued to squat. Yaina looked at Paul. She had met him a couple of times, always briefly. He never spared her any real consideration until yesterday evening. The way how he said her name could be interpreted as oozing respect or disrespect if it were to be laced with sarcasm.
“Maud’Dib.”
“Yaina, your reputation precedes you. You lead what is perhaps one of our most promising squads.”
Yaina listened with a face that did not show emotion. She was still not aware of his agenda. He too had a reputation that preceded him. Coming from one of the Great Houses, he joined the Fremen while Rabban took over the fief of Arrakis. Very quickly he rose in the ranks through a combination of won battles, daring displays of courage that went beyond attacking harvesters. He also showed political cunningness and insight in the strategies of the Harkonnen.
“We have a joint enemy, a joint goal. My squad consists of nearly 100 trained fighters. We could always use warriors like the ones you have surrounded yourself with. And yourself of course. Your effectiveness is unprecedented.”
Yaina continued to listen. She continued to observe him. Like herself, he too had androgynous features. His hair was brown and curly. His hear nearly came to his shoulder, passing his sharp jaw line. It has never been cut since joining the Fremen, showing he was never beaten in battle since. But it was not yet long enough to be braided, that token of resilience was still to follow. His nose was as straight as an arrow. His eyes were tucked away in his skull, but still the bright blue colour from the usage of spice could be seen. He was not young, but then again, he was also not old. She wondered if he was even younger than she was. His held himself differently from Fremen. Even when squatting, he did that in a regal manner. He drew the attention in the room to himself. She noticed it yesterday, even while he was outside of the crowd. His movements were deliberate and showed he was a skilled fighter.
“You are wondering why you should join me. I can answer that question. You want to take revenge for the slaughter of yesterday. You want to drive the Harkonnen out. By whatever means possible. I can provide you with those means. Together we have more power. We can increase our push against the Harkonnen. Just targeting the spice harvesters will not drive them out. We need to do more. For that I need more people, for that you need more people and more resources.”
As if he could read Yaina's mind, he continued: “I not only need bodies, I need your brain, your never-wavering bravery, your deep understanding of the Harkonnen ways.”
It stayed silent for too many seconds, and Yaina spoke: “Without meaning any disrespect Maud’Dib: I have been developing my squad for years. We know each other in and out. This level of trust cannot come overnight. I may need more people, but only if I can build on those people as I do with my current fighters. They trust me with their lives. They will follow my any instruction. That is what makes us strong and effective.”
She continued: “A larger team means less agility. Less adaptability to changing circumstances. More risks I need to take on people I do not know. More risks my people need to take on people I and they do not know. Even if the benefits outweigh the disadvantages. Even if I would be in favour, I can't decide this by myself. I need to discuss this with my squad. They need to be convinced. I need to be convinced.”
“Yaina: please, call me Paul. And you do not need to decide now. Let me know how I, how we, can proof to you that you need to take this offer. Tell me what you need, and I will give it.”
On that note, he left the room.
Yaina was wary. There was something bothering her. She never really understood why Paul Atreides, duke Atreides, heir to Caladan, joined the Fremen. He most certainly contributed to the Fremen cause. But there were so many other routes for him to explore. He had positions, through his birth right, that no other Fremen had. He did not explore any routes that such positions offered him. Was driving out the Harkonnen truly his end goal? A duke like himself would surely be more ambitious than getting revenge on the murderers of his father, followed by a safe life for his newfound friends?
It was not like her goal. The suffering she encountered in her youth made her yearn for nothing more than a peaceful life. Achieving that would be sufficient to clench any thirst for ambition left, finally allowing her to relax for the first time in her life. But then again: even if he may have a further reaching ambition than she has, as long as their current goals aligned, there would be sufficient justification to join forces. She decided to consult Bakyi.
+++
Feyd-Rautha was having his daily morning sparring session, when the Baron called for him. The Baron was not the man to be kept waiting.
Still, Feyd-Rautha could not leave at once. He did not like to present any uncovered skin towards his uncle, other than his hands and head. He threw on a black shirt with long sleeves to cover his torso. His trousers were drenched with sweat, but that had to do. He slotted his daggers in his belt and followed the servant that sent the message.
As was the case nearly always in the morning, the Baron resided in the plunge pool in the spa of Giedi Prime's fort. The plunge pool was filled with an oily substance with medicinal healing purposes; one of the many measures the Baron took to stay alive, other than imposing himself any form of boundaries. He was a perpetual form of inspiration for Feyd-Rautha to stay healthy and strong by any means possible. Feyd-Rautha would sometimes impose himself restrictions, just for the sake of it. Forgo food and comfort for several days. Sleeping on the floor of his training room, eating bread and lentils only. Feyd-Rautha was disgusted by his uncle. But of course, he could not let that be known in any way. As far as the Baron was concerned, Feyd-Rautha's focus on the physical side of his training were all in honour of the Harkonnen legacy. The result of the teachings of the Baron. A token showing how Feyd-Rautha was seeking to please his Baron, and his depraved desires. The Baron knew the urge of his nephew to please him would end indefinitely in the future, but he was in no rush to advance this.
“Feyd, darling” the Baron purred, while he looked at his nephew. He did like to look at his nephew, even if he grew older, too old for his liking. "I have yet another task for you. An opportunity. A gift, if you play your cards right."
+++
Link to next chapter
Post notes with this chapter: with a tiny sprinkling of old Greek references & more to come
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twistedtummies2 · 5 months ago
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So Then seven fandoms you said...
Twisted Wonderland
Disney (general)
Kung Fu Panda
The Bad Guys
My Hero Academia
Hazbin Hotel
Fullmetal Alchemist ...Name one character from each franchise that you would use as butt pillow
Oooooh, interesting choices...gotta think about this...
You'd probably expect me to say Leona, but I think he's more likely to use my face as a pillow for his butt. >///> I think the one who would tickle my fancy there most would be Jack Howl. I can see him letting an S/O do that while blushing all the while, claiming he's only doing it so they won't bug him...but he secretly enjoys it. Plus, he's canonically got one of the biggest butts at Night Raven, so that helps. XD
Disney on the whole? Oooooh...oh, that's tough...there's so many options, I'm not sure. And I don't want to cheat and use TW again. XD Hmmmmm...I'm gonna saaaaaay...Pete. As in the Mickey Mouse villain. Him being a big smug lummox about some adorable little "pipsqueak" and their kinks, laughing that heavy, mean laugh of his, or maybe even getting flustered himself for comedy's sake...both are yes please. <3
Po. This was the only easy answer. LOL Moving on.
While Mr. Wolf is my favorite crush from "The Bad Guys," I feel I have to say Mr. Shark on pure principle. XD
Oooooh, another toughy...hmmmm...I'm gonna saaaay...Kirishima. Which may seem like an odd choice, especially with the hardening ability, but a.) he doesn't HAVE to use that, after all, and b.) I think he's got the right balance of personality, if that makes sense. My other immediate options would be Midoriya or Bakugou, and one of them is way too innocent and the other...well...FREAKING INSANE. :P Kirishima I think has the right blend of being able to be playful and kink-teasing while also being sweethearted and maybe slightly flustered in his own way as well, which I think fits this type of scenario best.
Ahhh...this is tough, because the thing about Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss is that most of these characters don't really HAVE magnificent rear ends to speak of. The art style is very angular, with the characters having more sharp points and strict lines than major curves. And with all three of my top three biggest crushes for "Hazbin," specifically, the same rule applies...plus, NONE of them seem like they'd be remotely into that. XD I actually don't know with this one. I'm into a lot of characters sitting on me, but allowing my head to just rest on their rear like a pillow? (shrugs) Maybe Husk? Because it would be hilarious for the Grumpy Cat to just be all, "...Seriously? What the Here? -_- " And try to shake someone off with no success. Hey, when in doubt, use comedy. :P
FMA: Brotherhood is SUCH a weird show for me. There are so many characters that SHOULD be kinkable for me, but...well...almost none of them ARE. There's always some kind of caveat involved with them, where I go, "They could be majorly appealing to me EXCEPT...!" There are only two characters who are exceptions, and even they aren't among my STRONGEST crushes: those characters are Greed (both versions of him, pre-and-post-Ling Yao) and Envy. And between the two, Greed seems the most likely to ALLOW that WITHOUT horribly murdering me, so I guess we'll say him. 'XD
And now, SURPRISE EIGHTH FANDOM: "Moriarty the Patriot." I choose William James Moriarty himself. For no other reason than he's my favorite character, my biggest crush, and canonically looks QUITE curvy in several pieces of official artwork. >///>
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soccerpunching · 1 year ago
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Hissatsu Technique Headcanons #2
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Absolute Leader of the Pitch
Position: Attacking Midfielder
*Anybody can use any of these in their fics or wherever as long as I'm credited. This is just something I do for fun. TWs/CWs are tagged.
Name: Lights Out
Thank you so much for helping me name this one!!
Dribble/Steal Hissatsu
Description: Kidou gives an opponent a knowing smirk as he stops in front of them. He snaps his fingers confidently and the light disappears within the few meters around them. With confusion comes panic for the player under his spell and he takes this as an opportunity to disappear from their eyes as two giant yellowgreen orbs with vertical slits take his place. The orbs emitted a sickly glow as the slits turn wider and wider until a mouth with bared fangs appear under them. The eyes turn playful as the opponent feel their knees tremble at the slowly approaching predator, fangs dripping off some fluid and heaves a touch breathy. As they make a move to run, the predator--now they can clearly see as a black cat-- slams them on the ground and stretches its mouth to show a set of sharp teeth that attacks the screaming player.
Weakness: Anticipating the attack before he starts it
Inspiration: Kidou likes making his favorite animals his hissatsu (he likes penguins who are cute with a scary side so i know he likes cats).
Effective on: One to four opponents
Name: Knife Darts
Dribble/Steal Hissatsu
Description: Either an opponent approaches him or he approaches the one with the ball. As soon as Kidou is only a small distance from the other player, he crosses his arms over his chest to show knives that appeared between his fingers. The startled opponent slows down and feels a wall behind them. The monochromatic wall that looks like a target with a red dot at the center corners them and Kidou throws the knives in one fell swoop. His opponent instinctively guard using their forearms, covering their own line of sight. As the knives fly, the player feels the gravity shift from something that's attracting their weight to their feet to now the wall behind them. Sounds of knives hitting just a centimeter from their sides brings them back to the match where they realize they're now laying on their back against the ground and Kidou has just run pass them.
Weakness: Multiple opponents
Inspiration: He used to watch a lot of illusionists after a long week of study and training when he was younger. This move, along with Illusion Ball, is very dear to him since they made him not think of the expectations of being a Kidou during a time when he had to get used to it.
Effective on: One opponent
Name: Koutei Penguin: It's Feeding Time
Shoot Hissatsu
Description: He stands face-to-face with the goalkeeper, kicks the ball straight upwards, and whistles. He shouts Koutei Penguin in a low tone and quickly afterwards enters a giant and angry emperor penguin that came out of the ground behind him, only its head and a portion of its upper body for everyone to see. As the ball drops and bounces to Kidou's level, he kicks it on the side, making it spin very fast until it turns into a fish that then points towards the goal. With an apathetic stare, he points at the goalie and whispers behind him, "It's feeding time." The fish shoots where he pointed and the penguin screams as it opens its mouth to chase its food. The goalkeeper is forced to watch what looks like long sharp pink spines inside what usually seems like a tamed creature. The nightmare-inducing sight usually leads the keeper to retreat and let the ball hit the net to save themself from the horror.
Weakness: A strong-willed goalkeeper who can go head-to-head with that abomination (/pos) and has the strength to push it back.
Inspiration: Well. Let's just say he was angry in a match once and it reminded him of what a penguin's mouth looks like and wanted to be generous; so, he shared the beautiful knowledge. Please do not search that unless you can take it.
Note: Those things are not teeth!! They just look like teeth but their papillae. They're not sharp either, their growths of some sort. I understand nothing about penguins but I know Kidou loves them dearly.
Related Kidou Headcanons:
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In a story I concocted in my mind, Lights Out is a move inspired by a black cat he adopted named Hecate that he brings with him wherever country he goes. Hecate is a master hunter of every unwanted little creature in his current home or outside of it. She likes showing them to Kidou first before she eats them in front of him to his digust and fascination (Kidou allows this because she gets in a sour mood when she couldn't do it at least a day). The main Kidou mansion and all of their vacation homes never stay filthy but Hecate always finds her prey.
It's Feeding Time is a technique Kidou only uses on people he doesn't like and was created in the middle of a frustrating match with a condescending goalkeeper. He has never and will never use that on Endou and Tachimukai unless they requested themselves. Genda personally asked to try it (he was also frightened the first few times) and was able to catch it after many attempts. The name ended up sounding ridiculous because he came up with it in the fly (and fuming).
Notes from Lore/Fritz:
Knife Darts is originally a move I created for Gouenji under the name Flaming Knives (yes, it could sound lamer) because I wanted a non-shoot hissatsu for him. I got him something else that fits him better. I gave this one to Kidou as a callback for his magician theme for Illusion Ball. I think he should have more magician-themed ones.
Lights Out is a mix of the magician theme and his love of animals and I'm really in love with it. Did Kidou transform into a cat using the move? Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?
I always wonder how the audience in the stands or at home see a hissatsu technique. Let's just assume they can magically see Lights Out in the dark and never ask me about it /lh.
You're probably thinking that Knife Darts should have been the move I made a poll about and honestly I was planning to but the wait period is driving me insane so I didn't bother ashashadhas. But if any of you have some ideas for a better name, I'm all ears.
I have ones for other characters here too: Hissatsu Techniques Headcanon Masterlist. Or explore the tag #hissatsu imagined by lore
Tell me if I forget any TW/CW!
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keirawantstocry · 11 months ago
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Bruh its late asf and i lost this fic already bc Tumblr glitched on me, but have c!Quackbur but vampire
(Sorry if ooc)
——
Wilbur already felt the blood near-by, long before he saw that saturate, blue beanie across the tree-line.
It was cold in Las Nevadas, no matter how lavished the buildings were or how much the imported sand stretched on for.
Before, Wilbur had been lazying around on top of the spruce trees, popping stitches just to see how fast his regeneration would take in the plummeting weather.
His smile was sharp, whether it was due to his intention or the growing fangs, he couldn’t say. But the pounding sound of the other’s heart made his mind run wild, wondering how much he could get away with this time.
Quackity was pissed. 1) For forgetting a jacket, and 2) for even deciding to come out here in the first place.
He doesn’t know what convinces him to think any of this is a good idea, but the small, gnawing part of his brain that loves the self-satisfaction of seeing how needy and desparte the other gets when he’s nearby does ring a bell.
The trees sway in the night, shielding Quackity from any moon light at all, while also covering for the same he came here to see.
Speak of the devil, 2 hands grip the younger’s shoulders and an icy breath tickles Quackity’s neck.
“Missed me darling?” Wilbur spoke, vibrating the voice into Quackity’s cranium as one hand slipped down and wrapped around Q’s torso to pull him closer.
Quackity smirked, titling his head all the way back so he could stare up Wilbur’s brilliant, red eyes and sees how much hunger and devotion waits in them.
“Not as much as you missed me, with how close those fingers are to my pulse right now.”
Wilbur pulled Q closer, letting their bodies connect from front to back, as he let his finger dance around Q’s throat with a one-track mind.
“Hm, guilty as charged
”
Wilbur felt his hunger grow, and considering his only food source was literally in his grasp, it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to those scheming eyes.
“Let’s make this count then..”
“Hm—?”
Quackity reached around and pulled Wilbur down by his neck, the same time he tipped-toed up and connected Wilbur’s mouth to his own neck.
ohm ygod.
im literally throwing up /pos
i
ohmy gosh i just wanna stare at this forever and ever. this is so them. wil being the vampire. because hes so obssedd with q and everyone knows it, yin to his yang
im gonna be sick
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miintsprigz · 2 years ago
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Ohio RTC live-blogging
I watched the Saturday stream, and I documented my thoughts because hyperfixation goes brrrr
HEADS UP
there was a lot of ableism in the chat (I do discuss what it entails below so you’ve been warned) so I was distracted at the end of the stream
-Karnak’s frantic tone during the accident + freeze frame moment, very cool
-them holding up the prizes
-Constance’s mumbled “sorry”
-post-possession Noel and Mischa stuff is so good (the o.e face and shoulder shake)
-I don’t like Ricky’s disability being stolen again, but I do like the fact that they’re happy that he’s happy, seems to be “bro”ing it up with Mischa a bit, I do love that
-JANE! (OVERANALYZES LIKE CRAZY) The way she tips her head a lot like it doesn’t fit her body comfortably. She sounds so timid
awww, honey
she moves a bit like her body is off-balance from the new head, I love the details
-I see evidence of platonic (at least) spacedolls already. Ricky waved at Jane!!!
-BREASTMILK CHEESE SANDWICH EATING BLEGH
-even in the “ocean’s life” segment Jane’s movements are just a BIT off. I think it’s cool when the Jane is taller in the cast, makes me think of a Barbie/pos
Poor gal seems real uncomfy in those lenses tho, can’t blame her
-all of the cast looks like they’re having the time of their life
-Mischa’s mannerisms are already cracking me up
-I am appreciating Noel very much in this production tbh, very sharp-tongued and excellent emoting in the face
-Jane’s delivery of That One Line (I hear it gives you an—)
-despite the small theatre and tech limits because of that, they really do well getting the point across with the props
-gosh props to Noel that change takes too long even in the main show, but he works it
-RICKY’S LIL SHIMMY IN THE BEGINNING OF NOEL’S LAMENT AND HE SEEMS TO ACTUALLY BE PLAYING ACCORDION!!!
-CAN ALL MISCHAS EVERYWHERE STOP BEING SO PRETTY, RESPECTFULLY!!
-THAT NOIR FILM IN THE BACK, I LOVE!
-ngl I’m in love with this Ricky
-these dances are so fun!
-not a ton of Nischa in here with the end of the lament but—
-Constance’s “w h y” after the F word joke
-B O N S O I R
-them adding improv in ESGAL is a bit silly, but oh, RuPaul ref. That blindsided me lol
-RICKY AND JANE ARE GROOVING TO MISCHA’S INTRO TOGETHER AWWWW THEYRE HAVING SO MUCH FUN!!!
-they seem to be sort of un-possessed in TSIA, and Mischa seems a bit more friendly in this production so I think that fits decently
-RICKY HAS A LOW RANGE HEYYYY (Debby Ryans)
-I love how they try to make it like he can’t remember his rap—or can he actually not remember? Either way they played it off like it was on purpose and I appreciate that
-interesting how Jane’s a stand-in for Talia, cuz she could be anyone, she’s a blank body sorta
-I love the dances so so much, how they seem to be fencing Mischa in, and HE SINGS SO WELL, they did their best with the projector and got it across
-The way he just SITS DOWN AWWWW HON HE LOOKS SO SAD
-NOEL AND MISCHA HUG? NOEL AND MISCHA HUG!!!! AWWWWW IM CRYIN they seem so genuine about that whole part! person I’ve tagged said they noticed Mischa is audibly crying for quite a bit, poor dear
-again, Mischa encourages Ricky, I appreciate this! They see the Ricky and Mischa friendship supremacy!!!
-Mischa and Jane acting like generally strange parents and tHE FAKE ACTION SCENES which I genuinely think should have been in the original
-the implication that zolar daydreams came from food poisoning, this poor lad, I know it’s not exclusive to this version but dang
-this Ricky is just very captivating, I think this is a part that takes a lot of
uhhh, chutzpah, to play
-(sees Jane being a very passionate kitty) 
 (adds to spacedolls evidence folder)
-hehe I love that Mischa is Count Dogula
-also that black hole sound frequency reference made me so happy (“68 octaves below the middle C”)
-this Mischa has ADHD imo and I live for it
-AW JANE HAS SUCH A TINY MEMORY BOX. 
big enough for a head. Cruel.
-they really worked with what they had for the background on Jane’s song. The way she blends into the scenery fits. That’s what she’s been doing this whole show. Also her trying so hard to grab her memory box and it’s always out of reach ;A;
-HER VOICE IS EXCELLENT this is impressing me in a bigger way than I thought it would
-the shadows moving!!! the way she can kind of recall knowing them, but not enough to know their faces or names
-the circling with the lights does make me think she’s falling, and the fact that she’s holding an umbrella
and sounds like she’s crying at the end
she’s so alone dude, I care her
-that last note was like a final scream
-Noel and Jane interaction!!! something I never see!!! I love it!
-Ricky is so gentle with Jane ;-;
-THEYRE HAVING FUN!!! SO CUTE!!!
-(chat is ableist about someone either ticcing, stimming, or having a meltdown in the audience and distracts me)
-Sugarcloud was excellent sorry I was too busy being full of rage
-Piano go breaking noises
-“you will soar to great heights” o u c h
-THE GROUP HUG AND THE BACKWARDS ROLLERCOASTER SOUNDS
-AW CONSTANCE AND OCEAN AND RICKY AND NOEL SPINNING EACH OTHER
-MISCHA AND NOEL DANCING!
-THEYRE SO HAPPY
-ACAPELLA DREAM OF LIFE WITH GROUP HUG HITS REALLY DIFFERENTLY
Do I have criticism? Uhhh well it wasn’t perfect but hey, from what I saw they didn’t have a ton to work with (nobody’s fault there) and they used their resources well.
I also constantly have to remind myself of the fact that this show has a cast of at most eight peopleïżŒ acting, and it makes sense that it’s difficult to remember all of your lines, and the fact that everybody has a solo song!!!
I dream of some day playing an alto Jane, although I doubt it will ever happen, but I’m not sure I’m talented enough to do with this cast attemptedïżŒïżŒ
Also frick the people in chat who were being jerks about that audience member. git gud, Ricky would hate you you’re breaking the one rule
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epicspheal · 3 years ago
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Smell Ya Later
Alright so it’s time I talk about one of my favorite characters in the Pokemon franchise...that isn’t Leon. If you guessed by the title that I’m talking about Blue/Green Oak then you’re right. 
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[Image Description: Gif image from Pokemon Generations Episode: The Challenger. Picture of Blue (Green) Oak in his FireRed/LeafGreen outfit pulling out a pokeball. He’s talking to an Elite Four member who is offscreen with an insufferably smug look on his face]
Ah yes, the OG rival. He was quite the brat in RBGY/FRLG and that’s what many people like about him (in a love to hate fashion) since there’s a huge catharsis factor in being able to beat him and his team down. And unlike most rivals in the series he’s one of the few that can in-game beat you and the story continues (3 times in RBGY, twice in FRLG). Blue provides some of the few moments in the series where a loss actually means something (something that I wish the games would take advantage of more). And of those few times, he’s one of the few that can actually knock your team out as he often shows up in the worst possible moments where your team likely isn’t at it’s best.
He’s also always one step ahead of you. In comparison to most other rivals (bar Wally and Hop pre-Bede butt-kicking) he actually gets to places first and is outpaces you. Then you get the following:
"Hey! I was looking forward to seeing you, <player>! My rival should be strong to keep me sharp! While working on my Pokédex, I looked all over for powerful Pokémon! Not only that, I assembled teams that would beat any Pokémon type! And now! I am the Pokémon League Champion! <Player>! Do you know what that means? I'll tell you! I am the most powerful trainer in the world!" -Blue RBGY pre-champion battle
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[Image Description: GIF image from the Pokemon GOTCHA! Music Video. A shot of Blue (Green) Oak) in his RBGY outfit in the Indigo League’s Champion Room. As the camera moves closer to him you see his team po out. His team consists of Venusaur, Gyarados, Arcanine, Pidgeot, Alakazam and Rhydon. As the camera moves even closer to his face, we see that iconic smug grin of his form as he is usrrounded by a Green aura, his Pokemon are surrounded by a green aura as well]
This is quite possibly one of the most iconic fights in the series. Your once friend turned bitter rival actually beating you to the punch and claiming the title of champion for himself. No other rival other than Trace (Hau doesn’t count as he isn’t champion in USUM rather you and him fight to see who will be champion). And Trace by being a friendly rival, lacks the same oomph factor in the battle (I think Trace would’ve benefitted from USUM Hau style final battle personally). You kind of feel bad kicking Trace’s butt. It’s a huge moment of catharsis, however, taking Blue down.
And the humiliation for Blue doesn’t stop there. Something that’s expanded upon more in FRLG is how Professor Oak kind of blatantly prefers Red/Leaf over him. In the case that you lose to him after receiving your starter Professor Oak says “Hmm...how disappointing”. Like sir I know you’re grandson is a jerk but show at least some pride. Like I mean even in the league he comes off overly harsh as we have no evidence that he actually mistreats his Pokemon. Especially when you consider that one of his signature Pokemon is a Pidgeot which stands out in the many gen 1 threats he has on his team. He holds some sentimental attachment to the first mon he caught and that shows he’s not some irredeemable jerk. If anything he’s more self-absorbed than actually mistreating his team. Like take this line from generations “See that? I happen to be an incredible genius” As we see throughout the series, Blue is indeed a brilliant tactician. But the issue there is that he isn’t giving his team their proper dues. But that’s just being self-absorbed. Not like he’s kicking them when they faint or anything. 
"Hey, I heard that! Gramps, what's with favoring <player> over me all the time? I went and collected more Pokémon and faster, too. You should just let me handle everything."  - Blue after receiving the National Pokedex
And then of course the above quote, even Blue can tell his Oak favors the player over him. Ouch. Add that to the fact that he and Daisy’s parents are nowhere to be found you can make the argument that maybe this kid just wants some attention and affection. Considering his name is Green in Japan, and green is associated with envy and you can see how the OG rival is likely just fueled by jealousy that Red has at least one parent still around and has the attention/affection of Oak. Does that excuse his behavior? Absolutely not. But it does contextualize it a lot.
But still being scolded by Grandfather like that so publicly definitely left a mark on our rival. And then comes the Gen 2 games where we see a huge shift in his character:
"Who are you? My name's Blue. I was once the Kanto Champion. Although it was short-lived thanks to Red
 Anyway, take a good look around you
""A volcano erupts, and just like that, a whole town disappears. We can go on winning and losing in Pokémon, but if nature so much as twitches, we can be overwhelmed in a second
 That's the way it is
 But, anyway, I'm still a Trainer. If I see a strong opponent, it makes me want to battle." - Blue at Cinnabar Island HGSS
This dialogue from Cinnabar Island is not something one would expect from Gen 1 Blue. Gen 1 Blue would’ve challenged you to a battle right then and there like he did in Silph Co. But here’s he’s more contemplative (even if still a little salty about losing to Red). It’s a marked change that’s further strengthened by his position as gym leader. He’s taken on a esteemed position and proves to be highest levelled battle for a badge in the games. Yes being the 8th gym leader is not nearly as prestigious as his short reign as champion, but it provides a needed bit of growth for Blue as he learns to deal with losses better (which judging by his dialogue is implied that him losing is still pretty rare showing that he is definitely a powerful trainer). Not only that his Pidgeot which is not only his highest levelled Pokemon, but also knows Return in HGSS (a move that gains power the stronger the bond). It’s quiet character development over the 3 years between the gen 1 and gen 2 games that makes Blue such a good character.
Of course this doesn’t stop there. Over his next appearance in Gen 5 we see him in the PWT in the champion’s tournament (which sidenote one thing that I dislike about Pokespe!Blue and Gary is that they don’t achieve champion status when it’s clear that this is a key part of his character). His winning quote in the PWT is this gem "You're tough, I'll give you that. But there's always someone better. You have to be more dedicated! Smell ya later!"
It’s solid advice, and lacks the gloating of the “Yeah! Am I great or what?” lines you could get from the battles you can lose to him in the early gen 1 games.
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[Image Description: GIF from one of the promo videos or Sun and Moon. The animated part is framed by a still with adult Red on the left, and Blue (Green) Oak on the right. The caption on the still portion of the shot says Red and Blue. In the animated part, we see Red and Blue at the battle tree talking to the player character. Red says “... ... ...” with Blue responding “Stil as silent as ever, eh?”]
We see him once again in Gen 7 games as you approach the battle tree, your team weary from facing the Poni gauntlet. His iconic encounter music coming no doubt fills many who ever played the Gen 1 gamess with dread as you remember how many times that jingle played right when you really didn’t need it to happen. Yet this time it’s different, as he actually heals your team before you face him or Red. While some may chalk this up to the games being easier, consider that in this instance this is another sign of how much Blue has grown. Because Gen 1 Blue would’ve forced you into a battle right then.
You know what else Gen 1 Blue wouldn’t have done? Travel the world with Red (okay but seriously when is the Viridian Gym ever open?). Somehow he has made peace with his bitter rival enough to travel to Alola and be co heads of the Battle Tree. Again subtle (and to be fair, I do wish we got to see more of his growth on screen) but major. I don’t think anyone who only played the Gen 1 games would’ve ever seen that coming. But also the fact that he’s considered Battle Legend, second only to Red is amazing. It shows he truly is one of the most powerful trainers in the world, and it’s not just his ego talking.
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[Image Description: A still image from one of the Pokemon Masters promo. Here we have Blue (Green) Oak in his Sygna Suit that matches his blastoise that is standing behind him in the stadium]
But then comes Pokemon Masters which I think provides some of the greatest insight to him as a character. We seem him more as a mentor (which is also how we see him in Let’s Go). Which is a fitting end for his arc as he’s one of the best around but he knows what’s it like to be have been beaten down truly.
"Blastoise and I have overcome a lot of tough situations over the years. There were a lot of times when I felt so beat down, physically and mentally, that I didn't think I could keep going. But being in those tough situations would always fire me up. And the joy I felt when we overcome them was like nothing I'd ever felt before." - Sygna Suit Blue Sync Pair Story
This is a powerful quote from him. Again Gen 1 Blue would’ve NEVER admitted something like this to anyone. But you can see he’s shed much of his pride and allows himself to be vulnerable.
“And I guess I don't really mind teaching people, either. I'm better at it than Red is, anyway I can't even imagine him teaching anything to anyone."
And this quote shows him excepting his role as a mentor which I think he’s truly best at. Sure Red is more powerful than him, but the best of the best rarely make for good teachers. But the ones at the top who have tasted defeated multiple times like Blue has, will have an extra bit of wisdom that they can give.
So yes tl;dr Blue/Green Oak is a great character. No other character has been a rival, gym leader and champion in the series. Not only that he’s shown great growth from the cocky brat he was in gen 1 to a powerful trainer and mentor he is today.
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[Image Description: A gif of  an adult Blue (Green) Oak in his Gen 7 attire in his VS animation. He’s sporting his signature cocky smirk and doing his iconic 3 finger salute.]
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thewhizzyhead · 4 years ago
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a non-filipino's guide to trese: ep 1
So some of my mutuals decided to check out Trese aka the Netflix adaptation of the Filipino horror comic book series that I keep rambling about here and then since well um most of my mutuals aren’t from the Philippines fshfs I decided to make a long-ass post that basically consists of me rambling about the cultural context present in Trese with fun little tidbits about Filipino folklore. I’m not an expert on Filipino mythology so um I just typed out the stuff that I know and the stuff that I looked up on Wikipedia so um take this with a grain of salt aaaaa I’ll save the extensive google scholar research ramble on folklore present in Trese for another day.
I’ll try to find the sites where I got some of the information from cause um yea I kinda had a bit of a hard time finding the other shit so um once again, take the stuff here with a grain of salt. Also, feel free to add more info if you guys got any!
SO ANYWAYS ENJOY ME RAMBLING ABOUT EPISODE 1 OF TRESE WOO
+ MRT and LRT (Manila Metro Rail Transit and Light Rail Transit) are train systems in NCR (the capital region) and yea them suddenly stopping and malfunctioning in the middle of the goddamn rail is a daily occurrence and we have been trying to deal with this bullshit for years but alas, corruption and negligence are sweet sweet drugs.
+ When the MRT broke down, you'd see a red bee in the flashing billboard right? Well that's Jollibee and that's probably the most well-known fast food restaurant chain here heck there are even branches of it abroad!
+ According to many youtube comments along with other social media posts that I am way too tired to link here, the opening theme is an Ifugao ethnic song called Balluha'd Bayyauhen but with modern accompaniments and I think the song is about a fruit called a balluha that the character in the song tries to it but cannot swallow. (someone please correct me if I’m wrong here fjkfs)
+ The first um monster that we see Alexandra interact with is the White Lady of Balete Drive. White Ladies or “Kaperosa” are a type of female ghosts typically dressed in ghostly white dresses or similar garments. According to legend, she died in a car accident while driving along Balete Drive (a two lane street formerly lined with Balete Trees which are said to be a home for spirits and mysterious creatures) in Quezon City while other accounts say she died waiting for the arrival of her lover; others also say that she was a teenage girl who was run over and killed by a taxi driver at night and then buried around a Balete tree while another variation of the tale claims that a student from the University of the Philippines was sexually assaulted and killed by a taxi driver nearby and so said ghost haunts the street in search of her murderer. There are many other variations but according to local rumor, the legend was fabricated by a reporter in 1953 in order to make an interesting story. What remains consistent in many variations is that apparently taxi drivers would be stopped by a beautiful lady asking for a ride and if one would look at the rear window, they would see that the white lady in question is bruised and drenched in blood.
+ There are a lot of mentions about "lakans" and stuff in reference to Alex and her father right? In precolonial times, the term is used to refer to the paramount ruler or the highest-ranking political authorities in Tagalog communities (so um NCR and some parts of Region 4). In Muslim communities, they are called sultans while communities with strong trade connecitons with Indonesia or Malaysia called them Rajah. Datu is umm the more generalized term though when it comes to discussing the leaders of the precolonial Filipinos.
+ So, Alex’s mom is a babaylan and back in the pre-colonial period, each barangay (which a native filipino term for a village or a district; said term is still used today to describe um divisions in municipalities like) had them and these are basically Philippine shamans and they specialized in communicating with the spirits of the dead. To my knowledge, the role of babaylan went to women and yea people assigned male at birth but then identified as female were also allowed to become babaylans and they would be treated with the same respect given to any woman back then (honestly I dunno much about lgbtq+ stuff back in the precolonial times but all I know is that precolonial Filipinos were much a lot more welcoming towards trans identities bUT THEN THE SPANIARDS CAME AND UM ERR RUINED THAT); also the writing Alexandra's mom did in that one scene with the dagger is in Baybayin - preHispanic Filipino script. I dunno what she wrote down though. .
+ Also I kinda find it funny that the people here esp those who were at the White Lady scene are um,,, not at all surprised? Like yea quite a number of filipinos have their own superstitions and beliefs and all that but um yea the people in Trese seem very used to the bullshit,,,which in retrospect, isn't at all inaccurate fsdfd I MEAN WE DEAL WITH UNSURMOUNTABLE AMOUNTS OF BS ON A DAILY BASIS SO I DON’T THINK DEAD GHOSTS WOULD EVEN FAZE MANY FSKJDS
+ The one that appears right before Alexandra talks with the duwende (the one in the manhole) is called Laman Lupa (which i guess translates to um "What is in the earth"? just um YEA THEY ARE DIRT CREATURES). normally this is an umbrella term for duwendes and nunos but in Trese they are servants of these aforementioned creatures.
+ Duwende (which came from the Spanish phrase "dueno de case" which means "owner of the house") or dwarves in Filipino folklore are known to be mischievous and magical environmental guardians. They are believed to reside in trees or under earth mounds (those that live in the latter are called nuno sa pundo or old man of the mount) which is why quite a lot of Filipinos say "tabi tabi po" or “excuse me” when wandering around a forest or earth mounds as a sign of respect and in the hopes the duwende won't torment them. If the person is friendly, the duwende can also be friendly in return and will bring that person good lucl; otherwise, those who destroy their homes by stepping on them will face their wrath in form of heartless curse and predictions of ominous and disastrous fates. A duwende's color also depends on their budhi or conscience: to my knowledge, white duwendes are kind, red ones give protection amulets, green ones are firnedly with children and the black ones give nothing but trouble.
+ Chocnut aka the snack Alex bribes the nuno with is a very yummy chocolate snack made of coconut milk, crushed peanuts and cocoa powder. They are umm about an inch in length and maybe half an inch in width so it's fairly small; that being said I WANT THE CHOCNUT THAT ALEXANDRA HAS CAUSE HOT DAMN THAT'S A BIG CHOCNUT
+ In Trese, the creatures in the MRT scene and in the warehouse Alexandra visits after she talks with the duwende are called "aswang". In Philippine folklore, it is an umbrella term for any kind of monster so um an aswang in Luzon would be very different from the aswang in Mindanao. According to what I saw on wikipedia, they can be classified in 5 categories: the vampire (self-explanatory um they drink blood), the viscera sucker (the manananggal, i'll get to that next time), the weredog (cats and pigs are also possible but um yea they target pregnant women), the witch (self-explanatory boom curses and stuff) and the ghoul (they gather near trees in cemeteries to feast on human corpses). Aswangs are often described to have a long, hollow tongue, sharp claws and sharp teeth, although they do also have human forms.
+ To my knowledge, Ibwa, the leader of the aswangs in the warehouse, is a creature from Tinguian or Itneg mythology (they, like the Ifugao, are an indigenous ethnic group in northwestern Luzon) though I could be wrong about this dksfsf Ibwa seems like an ethnic filipino term tho wah I can't remember where I once read that. But anyways, Ibwa often stalk sthe house of a dying person to steal its body. In order for the ibwa to NOT succeed in that, some people burn holes in the garments of the dead and put a sharp iron object on top of the grave since those are most powerful weapons against aswangs which is what Alexandra uses to subdue the Ibwa and kill all the other aswangs (the knife alex uses is named Sinag which means "ray of light".)
+ ALSO I AM SO SO GLAD THEY KEPT THE FILIPINO SWEARS IN THE ENGLISH DUB YES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD JOB so lemme discuss the versatility of tangina-
+ Also umm Bossing is a nickname of Vic Sotto - one of the three pioneer hosts of Eat Bulaga! which is the longest running Philippine noontime variety show. Over time, most probably due to the show's popularity, the term "bossing" then became um slang for "boss" or "chief"
+ Translation of what Alex says when she's stirring the eye inside the cup: “In the eyes of others, secrets will reveal themselves.”
+ Sidenote: The English dub's pronunciation of many of the tagalog lines are um yea they r pretty good but they could use a bit of work but then again I'm really not that good in speaking in Tagalog so who am I to judge gkdkf sorry po guys conyo po ako-
+ Maria Makiling is arguably the most famous of all the diwatas (ancestral spirits, nature spirits, or deities) in Philippine Mythology; she is associated with Mount Makiling in Laguna as the guardian spirit of the mountain. Mount Makiling is said to resemble a profile of a woman and people associate the profile with Maria herself. She is also known as a goddess by the name of Dayang Masalanta and people would pray to her for safety and to stop storms and earthquakes. That's the goddess Alexandra's mother mentions right when she tells Alex to hide. (Translation to what she said there: Maria Makiling, goddess of the mountain, bless us.)
+ ALSO YEA THAT MAYOR IN THE MRT STATION IS UMMM RATHER REMINISCENT OF MAAAANY POLITICIANS AND PUBLIC SERVANTS HERE LIKE BELIEVE ME I CAN THINK OF SO MANY NAMES RN. THEY WOULD FLAUNT THEIR MACHISMO AND PROMISE THAT THEY THEMSELVES SHALL PUNISH THE PERPETRATORS HARSHLY BUT IN THE END THEY DONT MEAN SHIT AND ARE IN OFFICE TO SERVE ONLY THEMSELVES AND TO SHIT ON THE REST ESP THOSE OF THE POORER SECTORS AND *NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT*. WE LIVE IN HELL OKAY. also hmm how the police are represented here is umm,,,interesting,,, like i know there are sOME good police officers like the ones alexandra assists but like,,,our current sociopolitical climate + the many cases showcasing the corruption in the police force + tHE SHEER AMOUNT OF POLICE BRUTALITY HERE would ummm beg to differ. but um anyways-
+ Also Mang Inasal posters can be seen in the MRT station backdrops and um it’s a very famous restaurant chain here and they serve lots of barbecue and other filipino stuffs and i miss them a lot God their halo halo is very yummy
+ Santelmo - oki so this is the fire face thingy that Alexandra summons inside the ruined train. This is the shortened version of the term "Apoy ni Santa Elmo" or "St. Elmo's Fire" - this is a weather phenomenon wherein plasma is created from an electrical discharge from a rod like object in an atmospheric electric field. This phenomenon was used to warn of imminent lightning strikes or storms (there is a chapter in Noli Me Tangere where Pilosopo Tasyo talks about that bUT I'LL SAVE THE NOLI ME TANGERE RAMBLES FOR ANOTHER DAY). But according to Philippine folklore, santelmos - which are said to be souls of people lost as sea - are balls of fire that appear where accidents or big arguments happen. In Trese, santelmos (alex's santelmo being "The Great Spirit of the Binondo Fire") can be called to assist in supernatural investigations
+ Translation of what Alex says when she draws the circles to meet with the purple ghosts: "Souls, where are you off to? I'll be entering too, so please open the door."
+ Remember the scene at the train with all the purple ghosts and the woman in a veil? Yea the woman is an emissary of a goddess named Ibu and she is the Manobo (again, another indigenous ethnic group but this time they're from Mindanao; fun fact we have around 134 ethnic groups) goddess of deceased mortals and the queen of the underworld; she also serves as a psychopomp and guides the newly deceased souls to the other side (having an MRT be the ride to the underworld isn’t in the legends tho so fkkjsf)
+ The aswang in the top hat is called Xa Mul and according to the Isneg/Apayao people (yay another ethnic group but this time in northern Luzon - the Cordillera regions to be specific), they are an evil spirit known to swallow people whole.
+ Alex has two henchmen right? Yea they are named Crispin and Basillio and No I still don’t know who’s who and I'm really sorry about that fsfjs so anyways the names Crispin and Basillio are actually those of two brothers featured in the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo novels (Crispin is younger and Basilio is older) which are basically the national novels here cause um yea written by national hero Jose Rizal as sociopolitical commentary about the Spanish regime here. I don't know if I want to spoil this cause I kinda want other people to read the novel too fskfs BUT ALL IN ALL, ONE OF THEM DIES IN LIKE THE 10TH OR 11TH CHAPTER OF NOLI ME TANGERE (and the novel has 64 chapters btw) AND UM YEA-
+ OKI SO TO ADD MORE CONTEXT TO THE SQUATTER STUFFS MENTIONED IN TRESE (we r gonna use the tiny font here because holy shit this rant is long): So,in the Philippines, especially in the capital region, there are lots of slum areas called squatters. These are dense urban settlements made of compact makeshift housing units that aren't really officially recognized by the government. This is um very reflective of the poverty situation here and there are maaany factors that come into play here and if i were to go into depth about this topic, that rant would probably turn into an academic paper so for the sake of brevity, let's just say that Things Are Fucked Up Here. Oftentimes the poorer sectors are being ignored and left to their own devices despite tons of campaign promises to make things better and easier for them. The communities that live here are incredibly vulnerable to floods, fires, and the like and afaik no concrete solutions have been in effect to protect these people and their settlements. There have also been many times where squatter areas are dismantled or demolished despite protests of people living in those areas and yea I understand the need to make space and the need for renovation but the people should still be offered some sort of temporary settlement or financial compensation thingy that doESN'T fuck them over but alas, we have an anti-poor government. That being said, I really like Trese Ep 1's portrayal of governmental negligence, but I also have some thoughts, especially in regards to the mayor being arrested THAT FAST which um believe me, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENS BECAUSE MANY MAYORS AND A LOT OF POLITICIANS HAVE THE POLICE IN THEIR POCKETS SO UM ERR YEA JUSTICE IS RARELY A THING HERE BUT UM ANYWAYS YEA THE GOVERNMENT LIKES TO SHIT ON THE POOR WOO LET'S SAVE THE USE OF SOCIOLOGICAL LENS ON THIS MATTER FOR ANOTHER DAY
+ The news channel reporting the arrest of the mayor is ABC-ZNN WHICH IS AN OBVIOUS REFERENCE TO ABSCBN aka the top media conglomerate here (that has been fucked over by the government so many times to the point that they had to shut down operations last year which is all sorts of unfair so seeing them being referenced here kinda made me happy gksfks)
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seelestia · 2 years ago
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I'm glad ya liked the gift Liaaaa 💗💗💗
And don't worry about the late gift for me, just me knowing that you're gifting me something is already making me melt with happiness fr :'''D
Also- maybe it's just me, but I cannot tell wtf makes my art style distinct apart from my occasionally clean and sharp outlines :'D one of my friends said the same thing about how recognizable it is and I'm like "art style where?? I'm the most inconsistent artist I know :'DD"
But maybe that's just me being critical of myself who knows :P
It actually didn't take me that long to draw these, the one with scara, you, and cryptid ayato was the first I started to draw and I actually had to stop drawing it a little while before finishing the out line cuz I got busy when it came for our school Christmas party :'D but I finished it just in time before christmas eve
The one with normal ayato and you, took just a couple of hours to draw in one day, I thought it was a little cruel to gift you JUST a gag gift of scara and cryptid ayato, so I whipped up something with you and ur husband :33
Also- that bonus scene with Carlin and me, that was the first one I finished cuz even before December came around cuz I got intimidated by the main drawing :'D I was just doing the sketching for the gag gift at first and I knew I really wanted a lot of details and meticulously sharp ass outlines so I got a lil intimidated by it at first and finished the bonus scene before it :'''D
But all in all- I'm really grateful for you, our friendship, and how much you appreciate my art lia :''D I can't gift you anything physical but hey, if my art gives you serotonin then I'll keep gifting you more :3
I cannot even describe how happy I am to have met you, cuz you are one of the most anticipated people I wanna talk to and banter with whenever I go online fr :D
Love you liaaaa, hope you had a great holidays 💗💗💗
- Ever so sincerely yours, đŸ‘č✹ Jae
i loved it sm i'm gonna make it my priv's heirloom fr fr đŸ€ž (/hj) AND YOUR GIFT IS FINISHED BTW! all that is left to do rn is post it after this, hehe. i hope you'll like it (it's angst wrapped in a box) <3
other than the clean outlines, the details i find distinct about your artsyle is the way you draw eyes (you make eyes look so squishy like boba pearls), how you shade noses, and the way you draw hair (they look so swirly (??) and it scratches my brain in the right way) AND YOUR CHIBIS OFC <3 i still vv much treasure the ayato body pillow hehe your artstyle just has this smoothness that reminds me of those high quality animation memes you'd find on yt 😭 (/pos) i think i could've worded this better but yeah fjjejwkdk
jae, did drawing this gift actually help you commit to a deadline?? (/j) no but i'm fr super grateful for the gift like literally, i feel like i'm getting bombed with serotonin whenever you drop your art. you have an advantage over me with that talent of yours and idk how to feel (the power you hold) đŸš¶
thanks for being one of my best friendos on here, jae! when i see you in my inbox, i get a little bit more motivated like you charge up my social battery and that's pretty cool. ily for that, but you gotta stop bullying me with a certain mouchie who will not be named as your weapon. (/lh)
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tristintea · 3 years ago
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Endersleep
AU that’s basically a bunch of headcanons about endermen ft. Edward the Enderman and Lethe (Ranboo) :D
~
Endermen do not give birth, like piglins, humans, and other mammals do. Endermen do not lay eggs, like sirens, avians, reptiles, birds, dragons, and fish do. In fact, their method of reproduction is more akin to that of spores. Everywhere an enderman goes, particles are left behind, little bits of ender that fade but never quite dissolve. Those little particles are replaceable, insignificant, until they find enough of themselves that they can remember what it feels like to be ender.
It is nigh impossible to find infant or adolescent enderman anywhere, even in the End, where they are the only creatures other than the nearly extinct enderdragons (see: The Enderdragon, A Summary) and face no natural predators. At first, it was assumed that endermen were at risk of extinction, but studies showed no significant changes in population. One dedicated researcher by the name of Rhianna James, however, spent her life with these cryptic creatures, eventually learning the answer to this perplexing question.
As James discovered, most endermen spawn fully grown. It is only very rarely that there are enough particles to spawn an enderman but not enough to make an adult mind. That is why, when an enderman finds an enderling, it will adopt it into its haunting, and all members of the haunting take on the role of a caretaker. You will never find a more protected child than that of an enderman.
Edward’s haunting is gone. Edward has been wandering for many years now, and as the grief that accompanied the loss turned to nostalgia, they’ve regained their old vigor for life. Now they see sights worth seeing, places worth being, people worth meeting; now they search for others to spend their nights with. 
It has been far too long since they’ve sung the Old Songs properly.
Travel is dangerous, Edward has come to know very well. Others, non-endermen, often meet Edward with a sword in hand, either in defense or in greed. Edward themself has learned that connecting gazes is not a threat to non-endermen, but they have yet to be able to control their instinct to retaliate in anger.
The weather is also dangerous. Being caught in the rain is painful, and the only escape is to teleport to one of the other dimensions. Snow is beautiful, but when it melts it hurts just as bad. 
It has just stopped raining when Edward hears a call that is painfully familiar but distinctly off. It’s the cry of a wounded enderman, but the sounds are higher-pitched and slurred. They don’t register that, though; they are far too preoccupied with searching for its origin, ears flared outward as they listen intently for the next call.
They find a small, precious thing, under the dripping leaves of the forest. They have to ignore the sharp sound of the sizzling of their own skin with every drop that hits them, and it is worth it, because of all the endermen to be blessed with an enderling, Edward never thought that they would be one of them.
Their enderling is a little strange. They are split down the middle, one half of them the proper coloring, with the bright green eyes that they have been told all enderlings have for many years, while the other half is white and its eye red. But Edward does not care. They are theirs, and they will protect them with their life. 
As we know, endermen, when stressed, become aggravated; however, what James discovered is that they go into a catatonic state once the perceived threat is gone. This state is called endersleep, a term coined by James herself, and it can last from anywhere between a few minutes to decades. In fact, an enderman might never wake up from endersleep, and yet it can still live out its entire expected lifespan. Its haunting will feed it, nourish it, and carry it with them either until its death or its awakening. 
James wrote that she had only twice seen an enderman in endersleep. “It was sudden[....] One moment [the enderman] was screaming, and the next, [it] had collapsed. I thought [it] had passed out,” she wrote in one of her earlier entries. In a later entry, she said, “The haunting showed me their fourth member, that they had been carrying with them for some time now. I had wondered about this, with no hypothesis in my thoughts and only bafflement[....] [To] my surprise, I found that [it] was not actually dead, but breathing very slowly as though in a deep slumber.” Then, much later, “[The enderman] woke from endersleep today. I had assumed that [it] would never wake up again[...] now I realize that this is a common occurrence.”
While their enderling rests, Edward carries them away from the forest and the remnants of rain. They are badly injured, splotches of burning skin still sizzling even now, and the humming of their pearl is weak and broken. Edward hurries, a line of particles left to fade in their wake. They cannot let their enderling die yet. 
They trill comforts to their enderling, who has grown too weak to do anything but chirp when the pain grows too much. Even with a dying star pressed to their chest, Edward cannot feel upset. The fact that they held one at all will be enough for them, if Lady Death takes them into her own arms.
They move past trees and stones and hills, ignoring the hiss of a creeper and the whistle of an arrow, because such things do not touch them. They keep moving even as the sky begins to lighten and the hills grow taller and the air grows clearer. Their pearl aches, but Edward does not falter. Their enderling has stopped chirping, has stopped moving entirely; so they must move for them, must sing part of a song they don’t know if they’ll ever truly hear again.
They are cold.
Endersleep could be compared to hibernation, if it weren’t for the fact that for endermen, cold is nothing to be worried about. When an enderman is too warm, it grows drowsy and confused, but when an enderman is cold, its pearl is free, and the colder it gets the more energy it has, until of course it is too cold to move. This is one reason why endermen are nocturnal: to avoid the heat of the sun.
Edward does not slow when they see high stone walls towering over them. They teleport to the other side of them, into the quiet of a city, and they do not quiet their song to match. 
They are looking for one of the non-endermen, someone who has a potion of healing. 
Of course, another reason why endermen are nocturnal is the End, their original habitat. The End is a dimension filled with clusters of endstone islands, floating in the ever-black void. There is not much natural light there.
The city is filled with lights, flames flickering in iron cages hung over every door and at every street corner. It starts to meld together in Edward’s eyes, blurs of orange and yellow smudged with shades of grey and blue. 
There. They come to a halt, shaking the fuzziness out of their vision, and only take one look at the potion bottles in the overworld building before they enter in a silent explosion of purple. 
They can still hear the humming of their enderling’s pearl, soft and weak next to their own loud humming, and it makes them slowly walk around the shop. They regret that they do not know how to read Overscript very well. It takes precious time to make out the characters, and longer to stitch them together to form something understandable. 
Harm. Stre. Fir. They don’t look past the first few letters, knowing enough to remember that Healing starts with none of them. Rej. Po. 
Heal.
Edward knocks the bottle from the shelf with one sweep of their tail, and it shatters on the floor with a sound that seems to cut into their skull. They do not flinch. They find a scrap of cloth, and they drape it over the puddle of potion and glass, so that the liquid seeps in and the glass stays behind. 
They leave, rubbing the dripping cloth on their enderling’s shoulders, and behind them a livid alchemist bursts into the room with curses on his tongue and a gleaming sword in his hand.
It’s hard to say whether James’ research is reliable, though. She dealt with delusions for many years before the end of her life, and there are journals filled cover to cover in nothing but nonsensical scribbling and occasional letters, evidence of one of her more questionable projects. She thought that endermen had their own language, going so far as to claim that they had books and even enchantments, and for the rest of her life she tried to convince everyone she met that endermen were players, not mobs. 
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morganas-pendragons · 4 years ago
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Goodbye For Now | Din Djarin
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I had a dream the same day this aired that incorporated Goodbye by Avril Lavigne... and yeah, this was born. I put a lot of my own experiences into this fic. It’s very personal. Regardless of that, I hope you enjoy! 
tag: @earthtokace​ / @kyber-queen​ / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ 
This is literally the first fic in years I’ve used Y/N and it’s just one line for the fic, and I think it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written on Tumblr. 
Word count: 5.1k OOPS 
After
In the quietness of a little room in the back of an inn on Nevarro, the question asked by a grieving Din Djarin rolls around in your mind. You hadn’t been able to give him an immediate answer. It was too fresh. Too heavy. 
What’s the hardest part about letting go?
As The Mandalorian sleeps fitfully behind you with his arm wound tightly enough around your waist to ensure you do not disappear in his sleep - because has he not sacrificed enough? - you ponder his question as much as your sleep deprived mind is able. 
Din.. I think the hardest part about letting go is being able to accept that the people you’re letting go of aren’t apart of your life anymore. They aren’t physically with you anymore. They aren’t imprinted on your memory, on your soul. You just have to let it... fade. Let them fade until they're just a story. 
Your eyes flicker down to the ring that lays on your left finger. 
But in a galaxy as remarkable as this one... There’s always that glimmer of hope that someday, maybe someday... they’ll come back to you. That they won’t leave you. 
  “And Grogu will never leave you Din.” You whisper, wrapping your hand around his forearm and lightly squeezing it as you settle into the warmth of his embrace. “Never.”
Before 
Your blood chills in your veins at the words, “I go alone.” because there is no possible way in Sith hells you are allowing Din to walk onto that cruiser alone. As Bo-Katan reiterates the plan to the crew around you, your eyes are focused on the rigid and silent Mandalorian standing across the holo-table. 
You’re not coming with me. 
Are you really naive enough to believe I’m letting you go alone, Din? You snap, to which he winces at your sharp tone. If Gideon is half intelligent as I think he is, he’ll have installed impenetrable defenses on those dark-troopers. You'll need a Jedi to get through them. 
You can practically feel the burn of his gaze through the helmet. It’s obvious he wants you with the larger group, but you refuse to bow when the life of your son is at stake. If he’s going to retrieve the baby, you very much intend on remaining by his side to ensure the safety of them both. 
Until the end. 
Fine. You stick by me, don’t say a word- He pauses and swallows the reluctance in his throat that dies when he meets your eyes through the helmet. You know he’s looking at you... and you know how fearful he is. And please, don’t die. 
You beam. Dying without you, Din Djarin? I have no intentions of doing that anytime soon. 
The two of you disengage from the shuttle, trekking through the bodies left in the wake of the women in the landing bay as you move in the direction of the brig. Doctor Pershing had disclosed that Gideon had been keeping the baby there, so there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t still remain within the same cell. 
Your blood roars in your ears as you disengage the lock on your staff and hold the hilts of each saber in your hands. The Force envelops you in its comforting hold - wraps around your bones and your scars and your muscles and invigorates you with a strength you haven’t felt since before The Republic fell - and guides your steps that will lead you in the direction of the little one who holds a large piece of your heart. 
The other piece is held in the hands of The Mandalorian. 
Din. You murmur. I just need you to know that you may see a side of me today that you’ve never seen before. If that in any way changes how you feel about me-
He stops you short just as a pair of Stormtropers jog past. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. He sounds certain, almost confident, in his answer. The sound of it makes your chest warm. 
Never? 
Never. 
It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. You’ve only said it to each other once in the time that you’ve been together, but you’ve never desired to say it more then this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s too rushed. Dancing too close to the edge of anticipation as you seek out your child. 
Your heart nearly jumps out your chest as Din sprints in the direction of the doors where the dark troopers are emerging and one lone soldier has escaped. Before you can react, the man you love is being held against the wall in an iron grip and a fist is repeatedly pounding itself into his helmet. 
  “Din!” 
The Dark-Trooper turns its eyes on you, and you’re suddenly flung into a lifetime  of battle skills that kept you alive when you’d served as a Padawan in The Clone Wars and on the front lines of The Rebellion. You slide forward on your knees and remove the legs of the trooper just as Din impales the thing with the Beskar spear slung across his back. 
  “I’m fine-” He rasps, extending a hand to hold you at arms length as your trembling hands tighten their grip on your saber. It’s not often that Din comes face to face with Death when you're standing right there. People are petrified of Jedi. There aren’t many of them left. Mandalorian bounty hunters, however... They can be more expendable. Easier to break then one who is gifted with The Force. 
  “C’mon. I’ll take point.”
Right here. The Force whispers its assurance as you both stand in front of the nearest cell, and the moment the door opens you are granted with the sight of Moff Gideon holding the dark saber in front of Grogu. 
Buir. You’d completely forgotten the baby had bonded himself to you in the days just shortly after you’d found him. He’d rarely used it. He’d only ever opened himself up to project his emotions onto you in order for you to know when something was wrong, but the minute you see him sitting on that bench, he’s talking to you.
Grogu holds his hands out as if he’s reaching for you, wide eyes pleading for you to remove the Force Suppressant handcuffs that envelop his tiny hands.  Buir. 
Tears prick your eyes as you ignite your saber. The other sits idle on your hip just out of reach.  
  “Drop the blaster,” Moff nods to your saber. “And your saber. Slowly.” The two of you drop your weapons simultaneously. “Now kick them over to me.” Before Din can do so, you wave your hand to throw your weapons just out of reach. “Very nice. I didn’t know Jedi could be civil.”
The venom drips from his words. “If you’re not careful,” You warn. “I will show you what I look like when I am not civil.” A split second passes as you watch the fear flicker through his gaze before he’s tightening his grip on the dark saber. Moff had not, to your knowledge, encountered any kind of Jedi up until this point. He only knew of their abilities. Not of what they were capable of - with the dark or the light - with The Force at their disposal. 
The damage you could cause.... 
  “Give me the kid.” 
  “The Kid is just fine where he is.” Gideon replies, to which he begins moving the dark saber back and forth just to hear the satisfying hum of its kyber that rings within the hilt. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? It used to belong to Bo-Katan.” Din stops short at his statement. “Yes. I know you’ve both been traveling with Bo-Katan. Friendly piece of advice, assume I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.” 
Your gaze is still trained on the kid. Did he hurt you? Your voice is gentle as you prod at the shields that Grogu has placed inside of his mind. For someone who has little to no training, he’s rather good at making sure nobody can reach the most vulnerable places of himself. Ad’ika, it’s okay. It’s your buir. Did he hurt you?
Din and the Moff are still talking as your son lifts his head, meets your soft - and familiar, he hasn’t felt this safe since he was last on Tython, knowing you and Din were out there protecting him - gaze, and shakes his head. 
Bless The Maker. 
You shake yourself out of your reverie at the Moff’s words. “I see your bond with him. The bond the Jedi has made with him,” He comments, disengaging the dark saber as he moves away from the baby. “The two of you can take him, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.” 
The Force coils itself around you. Tightens around your arms as if you pull you away from the baby, and just as Din moves to pick him up, whispers danger before The Moff has reengaged the dark saber and slams the weapon into Din’s jetpack. 
  “Din! Go!” 
Buir. You throw yourself right into the line of fire, regardless of the threat to your own life, and envelop Grogu in your arms as the fight between the Moff and Din carries out into the hallway. Safe. 
You aren’t sure if he’s talking about himself or you. Regardless, you cradle him against your chest and bring your knees upward to shelter him within your manse. 
Yes. Safe. 
The cuffs fall to the floor with a snap of your fingers. 
*** 
You’re straight up itching to punch Bo-Katan right in her smug face. After bringing Gideon to the bridge where the rest of your team awaits you, the Moff confesses the origins behind the Dark Saber - which for some reason is a tradition, despite Mandalore’s loss, that Bo-Katan still follows because it is what she knows - and the Princess of Sundari refuses to take it back from Din. 
  “You are so stuck in your old ways, Bo-Katan.” You snap, Grogu still cradled in your arm as you pace the width of the bridge. Din still wields the blade and grasps the Moff in the other hand, hardened gaze set on the thick-headed Mandalorian before him. “Wake up! This is not your sister’s Mandalore-” 
The youngest Kryze whips around. Shock and disbelief writes itself into your features because that is the only time you can recall seeing such a fire lit within her. “Don’t you dare speak her name-” She snarls, pointing an accusatory finger  at you as the two of you step toe to toe. “Or even think of her.” 
You are so tempted to release your biggest secret, the one you’ve been keeping from everyone - even before you met Din - for your own safety. You hadn’t even told the Skywalker's about it. 
It’s fortunate you didn’t obtain the auburn hair. 
  “Why don’t you kill him now and take it? It’s yours now.” 
  “What is?” 
 “The dark saber.” 
Bo-Katan will not relent. Until she wins that saber in combat, she refuses to even lay a hand on the dark saber. You find the entire thing amusing given what your former Master had told you in hushed stories underneath a starry sky about Clan Kryze. Stubborn, prideful women. Satine’s pride had earned her an early grave. Bo-Katan, however... that remained to be determined. 
  “I yield. It’s yours.’’
Din is too good for the throne of Mandalore. All he wants in life is a ship, the baby, and you. That is what drives him to hand the dark saber over to Bo-Katan. That is what drives him at all. 
You know about the Dark Saber. You’ve heard the tales surrounding it since you were small, stranded on a home world you’d have rather never seen again with your father and a thrumming lightsaber crystal. The Force will be with you. Always. He had made that promise just before he died, and you had carried his words with you ever since. That man had sheltered you, raised you, made you his own. 
And as Din watches you hold that Dark Saber out in front of your hand, he finally sees the resemblance. He sees the ferocity in your gaze and the defeat in Bo-Katan’s, he sees how similar you too are in both personality and physical appearance. 
What the kriff? 
  “He’s right. The power is in the story, not the weapon.” Darkened eyes meet your own as your pulse thrums erratically beneath your grip on the Dark Saber. “Ironic how a Jedi raised on Coruscant knows more about Mandalore then most of the people in here, two of which are from Mandalore.” 
  “Who said I wasn’t from Mandalore?” 
Before the two of you can argue, one of the alarms begins blaring on the opposite side of the bridge. The dark troopers have breached the ray shields and board the cruiser. 
  “You’re about to face off with the Dark Troopers. You had your hands full with one, let’s see how you do against a platoon.” 
This was the precise moment you’d warned Din about. “Bo-Katan,” You call over your shoulder at the Princess, who turns to acknowledge you as she puts her helmet on. Now or never I guess. “Ke'pare olar, cabuor cuun adiik. Par Clan Kryze.” 
Before Bo-Katan can ask you what you’re doing, you reach into your tunic and reveal the pendant you’ve worn since long before you met Din. A token from the man who'd taken it upon himself to raise you, you’d been everywhere with the tiny silver owl that almost never left your person. 
Her breath catches in her lungs. The last time she saw that pendant... 
  “Sarad-” 
  “Din?” You question hesitantly and lowly enough that the others can’t hear, handing him the baby before you reach for your sabers. “Remember when I told you I was going to do something you’ve never seen before?” Din nods and tightens his grip on Grogu as you activate each saber and turn in the direction of the doors. 
  “Yes.”
The Mandalorian catches your trembling hands wrapped tightly enough around your sabers to turn your knuckles white. 
Din swallows the trepidation that lingers in his throat and squares his jaw beneath the helmet, allowing his fear of what may happen to you - despite knowing how well you can take care of yourself - to confine itself to the back of his mind. He can dwell on it later. 
You’re making the child’s safety your top priority. 
  “Don’t let it change anything.” 
You cast one last look over your shoulder at the man you love, allowing your gaze to soften as Grogu eyes him, then you, and rests a tiny hand against Din’s. He’s trying to tell you I’ll keep him safe while you’re gone. It’s sweet. Endearing. 
  “It won’t.” Din replies quietly, to which his voice then whispers I love you across your bond. Your heart nearly explodes with how gentle it is, how he chose now to tell you again after so long of having not heard it. There’s a newfound strength coursing through your body as you turn towards the doors and call to Fennec to open them. “Be safe, Sarad.” 
  “I will.” 
As someone who usually calls on the Light Side of the Force, you’re oddly coaxed to the lingering darkness in the hallways of the Cruiser. You’ve never allowed yourself to fall like the Sith do. You’d had every reason to do so over the years, and yet you never did. 
It occurs to you as you make your final stand alone that the only reason you never fell was because you found the baby. 
Oh Force... 
The metallic footsteps of the dark troopers ring in your ears as you stand vigil before the doors to the room that contains your family. Your aliit. 
Forgive me. 
  “Go on then!” You yell, hoping your voice will carry through the hallways in which they are following to lead themselves to you. “What, are you afraid of a Jedi? I’ve bested the dark, I’ve survived two wars and a mass genocide! Nothing can break me!” You twirl your wrists in the usual jar’kai motions and settle yourself into your favorite defense position. “I’m ready! Are you??” 
Outside the main viewport, a lone X-Wing flies within view with the hangar as its destination. 
Your head falls to your chest. I’m calling on you... Be with me. The steps grow closer, the anticipation of their lethal capabilities thrumming in your veins. Be with me. 
The first dark troopers circle the hall. You peer out of the alcove in which you’re hiding, position yourself in the middle of the platoon, and lift your head towards the ceiling. 
Din watches from the surveillance array as the first squad of dark troopers begins trembling. The metal crumbles beneath the weight of your Force grip. “Sarad-” He whispers, fingertips ghosting the screen as he watches the troopers turn in your direction and set their targeting systems on you. “Sarad.” 
Be with me. 
Unaware of the other Force User who’s just landed in the hangar, your head snaps upward and your instincts kick in as your sabers begin moving of their own accord. You are not the one moving with such grace, such poise, years of training in desert sands with a man who’s constantly dancing with his ghosts. 
You are not you. You are simply The Force. 
Blue collides with obsidian. Further down the hall, Grogu watches on the surveillance as his buir and the Jedi he’s called upon move to meet each other half way. 
Before you reach the newcomer, you’re nearly knocked off your feet by the way his presence radiates in The Force as you clench your hands into a fist and send the last Dark Trooper slamming into the wall. 
  “No way.” The two of you snap upward to meet each other’s gaze. It’s been years since you’ve seen that familiar face - the same familiar face you’d spent so many nights with training in the forests, the same face that had always softened as the two of you traded stories about your pasts and the Jedi who’d trained you - and it’s a welcome sight that this happens to be the Jedi that your ad’ika had called upon on Tython. “Luke?” 
The newcomer throws his hood back to meet your eyes. 
  “Y/N.” 
***
During 
Buir. Grogu watches the surveillance screen as you and Luke join one another in the elevator. There’s one small platoon left that’s come from a separate hallway that the two of you can eliminate without barely lifting a finger. 
The powerful two Jedi can radiate. It’s cosmic. 
It’s alluring. Mesmerizing. A flurry of blue and green weaving between one another as each individual dark trooper is reduced to a pile of smoking metal. Din watches Grogu where he stands, little hand planted on the surveillance screen as the two of you emerge together from the elevator.
  “Remarkable.” Din whispers, because it is. The way that the two of you fight is almost like you were born to do it together, to fight with one another and as one another. 
The last dark trooper crumbles under Luke’s grasps. When he passes by the camera, Grogu turns to his father and tips his ears back before whining for Din to lift him up. 
  “Open the doors.” 
Din tries not to laugh at the utter indignation on Fennec’s face as he cradles the baby’s neck in his hands, moving around the bounty hunter to stand before the blast doors. He knows they’re safe when you’re standing on the other side of it. 
The crowd watches as the newcomer follows on your heels through the smoke left in the wake of your destruction, and the two of you both remove your hoods to acknowledge them. 
 “Mandalorian.” 
  “Is he... A Jedi? Like you?” 
Luke, ever the civil, folds his hands across his stomach and nods. “Yes.” He says quietly, green eyes softening as the baby peers around the edge of the chair to look at his buir and the man who has answered his call. “Come, little one.” 
Grogu looks to Din, and then to you. You can hear his question as clear as day inside your mind. 
Are you ready to let me go? 
And in that moment, everything comes crashing down in front of you. He’s asking for your permission to go with Luke. He’s asking for the permission of the woman who’d saved him and the man who’d taken it upon himself to keep him safe, to raise him, to let him go with the other Jedi in order to be properly trained. Maker knew you couldn’t do it. 
  “He doesn’t want to go with you.” 
Goodbye, goodbye
Goodbye, my love 
  “He wants your permission. Both of you.” Luke’s voice breaks through your reverie as you hang your sabers on the belt that’s swung low across your hips. This child has been your livelihood, your reason for breathing, since the year following the genocide of the Jedi. Since you lost your world. 
And it seems like you’re about to lose it again. 
I can’t hide
I can’t hide 
I can’t hide what has come 
    “He is strong in the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect The Child, but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.” Unfortunately for you, Luke knows you so well that he can feel the weighed projection of your feelings that emanate from you like a flare within the darkness, which is what prompts you to gently usher you towards Din. 
  “Hey, go on. This is who you belong with. He-He’s one of your kind.” 
I have to go 
I have to go
I have to go... and leave you alone... 
“I’ll see you again. I promise.” 
Wide, innocent eyes flicker between you and Din before Grogu is reaching up, ever the gentle, to press his hand against his helmet. This would be the first and most likely the only time the baby has ever seen Din’s real face. 
You flash a questioning look at the man you love. Then, without question, he wraps his fingers around the bottom of the helmet and slowly lifts it off. 
The beskar clang resounds within the bridge. 
But always know
Always know... Always know
That I love you so.. 
Your heart has begun to bleed just by watching this exchange. Din has gone so much of his life without knowing what love was, how gentle people were capable of being. That had all changed when The Child had healed The Mandalorian’s lonely heart. It had never been you. It was him who healed you both. 
Din’s lips quiver as Grogu presses his hand to a bare cheek. Your tears are becoming harder to keep at bay, and with the sudden tightness in your chest, you’re suddenly finding it incredibly difficult to breathe. Nevermind the fact that the room has suddenly begun spinning. 
 ‘’Alright, pal. It’s time to go.” Din said quietly. You aren’t entirely sure if he's talking to himself, to you, or to Grogu. “Don’t be afraid.” 
Everything around you is muted. Numb. Like your body is trying to fight a shock that you haven’t experienced since Order 66. 
Buir. A tiny whisper, echoing in the back of your mind as a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. A flash of a child’s cry echoes in your ears as a blonde woman hands a baby into the arms of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the very man who had taken it upon himself to raise you. Safe. That whisper grows into the voice of your son. Your son is staring at you over Din’s shoulder and desperately trying to call your attention as your world comes crashing at your feet. Buir is safe. 
That’s what he means. Since you’re not going to be looking over your shoulder and sleeping with one eye open anymore just because he’s in the same vicinity as you - such a powerful being inside this tiny body - now, you are safe for the first time since The Empire fell. 
The fact Grogu puts your safety over his own makes your heart break. 
  “You’re losing a child.” It’s Bo-Katan’s voice that brings you back to reality. The gentle and foreign tone she’s using is enough to jar you and bring your focus back to the matter at hand: It’s time for Grogu to be with his- your people. “It’s alright to grieve.” 
It is, but you can’t. Not right now. 
You stumble forward and wipe at your eyes as you press your front to Din’s back. He’s very clearly overwhelmed by the loss of the baby, but that doesn’t stop him from nodding in thanks to Luke. 
Goodbye, sunshine
Goodbye for now 
Your anguish is replaced by a split second of joy as Grogu looks at you, waddles forward to cradle your leg against himself and say i love you through his Force Bond before he’s turning in the direction of the astromech who’s just rolled into view. 
  “May The Force Be With You.” But before Luke walks into that elevator, he casts one last look at you. It’s the same look he gave you before you’d left to make a life for yourself. To be your own person outside of the legacy of the Jedi that you’d been brought up in. “I’m offering you the same opportunity I did when you left, Y/N. You can help me in training The Child with the new Jedi Order I intend to build. There are many young Force Sensitives to find.” He holds out his free hand and tries to hide his smile as R2 beeps his approval. “A new world. Would you like to be a part of it?” 
Through your Force Bond, you clearly feel Din’s heart drop right into his stomach and his chest tighten as reality hits him: You and the baby may be leaving him together. That would leave him alone for the first time in several years.. and Din doesn’t remember what he was like before he met the two of you, before he loved the two of you. 
He doesn’t want to go back to being a ghost. 
  “I left you for a reason, Luke.” And just like that, the infamous Mandalorian masks his shock as you step backward and right into his hold, maneuvering your arm so as to take his hand within yours. “And I have no intention to leave my aliit. Not this time.” 
Luke nods. It’s all he can do. “Very well. As I said, May The Force Be With You.’’
Grogu looks at the two of you as Luke carries him into the elevator. 
Goodbye, brown eyes 
Take care of yourself 
It is so difficult to keep your composure as your son watches the two of you disappear from view. Your knees are already trembling by the time Din pulls you into his arms, and when the elevator doors close, you throw your head back against Din’s chest and let out a wail that shatters the silence following their departure as the two of you sink to the floor. 
I have to go.. and leave you alone 
But always know that I love you so
Din’s split second decision comes as he buries his face in your hair and whispers as gently as he is able, “Marry me.” 
I love you so
Your eyes snap open to meet his own. Tear filled onyx meets your gaze as you cradle his face in your hands and kiss him - once, twice, three times until he’s open and begging and desperate for more of you - before pulling away to envelop him in the tightest embrace possible. 
Oh... he’s so wholly and wonderfully yours. 
  “Yes.” 
***
After
Bo-Katan approaches you as you stand in Slave One, knees brought to your chest and chin resting upon them as she kneels in front of you. You and Din haven’t said a word since you boarded the ship, and it’s a needed silence. You must have time to process your losses. 
Why did I have to let him go? 
  “That pendant.” Bo-Katan whispers. “That pendant used to be in my family, Clan Kryze.” The former Princess of Mandalore tilts her head as your gaze remained focused on the cargo hold, eyes vacant as she continues. “It was mine. That pendant was mine and eventually passed to my sister, Satine. You know about Mandalore before the Empire, you know about Kenobi, you know about The Force.” 
Your eyes slowly shift to hers. 
  “And?” 
  “I don’t think you’re from some backwater planet. I think you were born on Mandalore,” Her eyes soften, the first time you’ve seen her show any kind of humanity in the entire escapade since leaving the Cantina. You didn’t think she was capable of it. “I think Kenobi raised you wherever he ended up, and I think he was your Master. I think you are Mandalorian, little one.” Bo-Katan stands to her feet and hesitates for a brief moment before resting her hand against your head. “But I don’t know. I never will.” 
Your entire body sags into her touch. 
  “Bo-Katan-” 
  “Be peaceful, little Jedi.” She stops before turning to look at you over her shoulder, flashing the faintest smile - one you swear you’ve seen before - before returning to her spot beside Koska. 
Your eyes flutter as you fall asleep.
***
The End
In the quietness of a little room in an inn on Nevarro, he asks you again. 
  “What is the hardest part about letting go?” 
And this time, you have an answer. 
  “The hardest part about letting go is knowing they’re somewhere out there in the world, away from you, and you still love them. Love them so deeply and so much that it hurts you to be away from them.” You trace the contours of his exhausted aspect, lightly poking the end of his nose just to see the toothy and bashful smile he flashes in response, and prop your head on your hand as you lightly trace his bicep with steady fingers. “You wanna know what the best thing to do is before you inevitably must let them make their own way?” Din hums his acknowledgement and opens his eyes to meet your own. “You love them. You love him..” You exhale slowly on a sigh and lean inward to press your lips to his forehead. 
Din sinks into your hold and allows you to cradle his head to your chest. You bury your face in his hair and reach into your shirt to reveal the owl pendant. 
 “And you hope it’s enough.”
Hm. Maybe one day you’ll have the courage to tell her. 
One day. 
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devildom-dedicated-daydreams · 4 years ago
Text
Afterstory (Diavolo)
Arc 3: The Cursed Witch Seduces the Wild Prince
@karmaaf @mac-the-oregonian @imagine-my-hero-and-vills @lady-naho @viptrash @cinnamon-bisquit xxnio-chanxx @pen-observing I wanna be friends with you, too <3 
“Princess 
 ”
Diavolo cradled your body closer to him. Your warmth seeped out with each second. Stale blood dripped from your wounds.
Diavolo chuckled drily.
Those gentle hands that would pat his head, the calloused but lovely fingers that drove him crazy with each touch--he will never feel them again.
Chuckling became laughing.
His flames blazed brighter and pitch-black smoke rose from earth. Rising higher into the sky, Diavolo’s wings grew and stretched so far they covered the sun and engulfed the city in darkness. From his flames swung out a tail with scarlet scales. It swept across the buildings, killing hundreds and destroying everything.
“Beast!” The humans screamed. “The witch summoned a beast!”
“Witch?” Diavolo repeated.
His maniacal laugh thundered throughout the city.
“You killed her for that?” The woman he loved was a soul who would never use her magic selfishly. You never turned away a patient even when they disrespected you.
The red dragon tenderly gazed at the lifeless body in his hand.
The skin had lost its vigor, scratches covered your face, and the arms 

How long did you suffer? How much did you suffer?
If only 
 if only he stayed with her.
“Unholy beast!”
Diavolo’s thoughts were interrupted when the human soldiers started shooting arrows at him. One arrow flew past his claws and almost hit your corpse.
The red dragon roared into the sky.
The large city that once bustled with life was reduced to ashes in less than half a day.
Diavolo flew back to your home. When he found the squatters wearing your clothes and the kids trampling the flowers you adored, he almost sent them to the next life. But he sensed the mana that radiated from them. It was your mana.
“Take off the clothes that aren’t yours and leave behind what belongs in this house,” he ordered with glowing eyes.
There were a foolish few who disobeyed by pocketing a ruby Diavolo gifted. They were two kids, the ones who threw rocks at you--
Half their faces were melted off.
“A saint touched your souls so I won’t kill you,” Diavolo said. “But don’t test my patience.”
The refugees ran for the mountains and Diavolo was left alone.
“I’m here,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “I’m right here, princess, so come back soon 
 ”
Gabriel and Lilith arrived a few weeks later. They’ve only now just heard the news.
Shock didn’t begin to describe what they felt at the scene that welcomed them.
Your humble mud house was transformed into a wooden cottage. The tiny patch of soil you proudly called a garden was bigger, lining the side of the river with herbs and flowers and other plants.
Life seemed to overflow
Gabriel barged inside the cottage.
The crown prince of hell sat on the edge of a bed. He was wiping the feet of a corpse, his eyes full of mad love while telling a story about how big the pomegranates were.
“I promise I didn’t use any magic. When you wake up, let’s make some dessert with them--”
A fist flew and Diavolo landed on the ground.
“You crazy 
 ” Gabriel’s chest heaved. He didn’t even know where to begin.
Luckily, Lilith was there. She patted his shoulder before approaching the prince. “Cousin, this is wrong.”
Diavolo lifted his head, eyes empty before focusing on Lilith. He grinned mechanically. “Oh, I didn’t notice you coming in.”
The angels exchanged glances.
“Do you like the house? I built it myself.”
“Diavolo--”
“I was giving princess a bath, she’s so spoiled--”
“Diavolo,” Lilith cut him off. “Diavolo, MC is dead.”
“She’s sleeping, Lilith. She can’t be dead, she’s going to be the queen of hell. We promised we’d be together so there’s no way she’s dead.”
“Oy,” Gabriel stepped forward, glaring at the prince. “Stop running away from this, bastard. MC is dead. She’s gone.”
“Gone,” Diavolo repeated with a whisper.
Your soul was gone.
Your soul was gone.
Your soul was gone.
But that’s not possible. When you became one, he reinforced his seal so you would be bound to him forever. But your soul was gone. You weren’t just dead, your soul was gone. He couldn’t feel it anymore. Your soul vanished like a whisper in the wind.
Gone--
You were gone.
Diavolo clawed at his chest, cutting skin and drawing blood. His insides twisted. He buckled down and threw up.
“Right--” He croaked as angry fat, angry tears blurred his vision. He pulled on his hair. “She’s gone. She’s gone 
 Even Barbatos said her soul 
 she’s gone.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Lilith knelt down and looked straight into his eyes. “Diavolo, think again.”
“A soul is immortal. She may be lost,” Gabriel said. “But she’s not irretrievable. And when she comes back is this how you want to greet her?” He gestured at the ice-cold body.
Diavolo chuckled wearily. “What do you know?”
“I know that you didn’t deserve her--”
“Gabriel--” Lilith tried to calm him down again but he shrugged her off.
“--I know that she deserves more than a pathetic, sobbing mess who avoids responsibility.”
The demon prince couldn’t bring himself to retort. Gabriel was right, he was pathetic.
“I know this doesn’t sound much from an uncultured girl like me but 
 but I want to work together with you. I want to be a partner who can help you with your problems.”
Your words echoed in the back of his mind and Diavolo laughed again. With a tearful smile, he looked out the window and into the clear morning sky.
“You win, princess. You always win.”
Meanwhile, in a roofless room surrounded by stars and with walls that stretched so far you could not see the end, two men played a game of chess.
The one who held an ebony pawn sighed. It was King Drakul of Devildom.
His opponent, a man with greying hair crudely dyed purple at the tips, quirked an eyebrow. “Something wrong, old friend?”
“I was just thinking--it’s very hard being a father.”
“Oh.” His opponent nodded in agreement. “I feel ya. Lately, Lili has taken an interest in the human realm and Levi
the one with the bowl haircut keeps messing with the time warps. He’s already reading literature that shouldn’t be in existence yet.”
“First of all, their names are Lilith and Leviathan. Secondly, my case is different from yours. Diavolo--”
“It’s about time Diavolo fixes his behavior.”
“I suppose 
 ”
“Cheer up, Drakul. Our plan worked, or rather, it’s going to work. Ain’t that right, Barbatos?”
Barbatos appeared with a burst of green smoke. He refilled their teacups. “You are correct, Lord God.”
Drakul sighed again.
“Hey now, you can’t start regretting it now,” said Lord God. “I went AWOL for an extra five thousand years just for this moment.”
He disappeared for millenia, causing conflict among the angels, and then arrived in time to stop a full-scale war. Not to mention, he had to create a random body and puppeteer it from the sidelines while waiting for a Host.
“You can’t soften up now. Otherwise all that effort to educate Diavolo would have gone to waste. Think of those poor souls who failed and got sent to punishment worlds because of him, think of those humans he killed when he went feral the other day--think of how many loops Barbatos has gone through--and the beating Diavolo almost gave him!” Lord God dropped a sugar cube into his cup.
“I know, I know 
 But those 2430 souls are on you. You could easily have asked Barbatos who would be the successful Host.”
“You know I don’t roll like that. It’s boring to know everything—why do ya think I sealed away my powers?” Lord God added another sugar cube. “Ah, speaking of, what do you think of my newest recruit? The second genius I’ve encountered since I started this gig.”
“Hm, let’s see.” Drakul grabbed a flower-shaped cookie. “Sharp-witted, competent and ruthless. I say, they’d be an excellent queen.”
Lord God spat out his tea. “You can’t--cough--you can’t be serious.”
“You can't deny that there is a possibility." He turned to his butler. "Right, Barbatos?”
A mysterious look ghosted over Barbato's eyes, then he grinned subserviently. “It is as you say, sire.”
Author’s note:
If you know me from Tumblr then you already know that I have this headcanon: In the past Diavolo was a wild, rebellious blood knight but now he is desperate to maintain peace in the three realms because he fell in love with a human in the past and patiently waits for her reincarnation so he can welcome her as his queen. Also, he's only the crown prince in the Obey Me! storyline because he refuses to become king without his beloved.
Man, I know I poke fun at him for being a reckless idiot in the story, but damn.
And imagine all the crap he deals with for uniting the three realms--all that effort for a soul who didn’t even look back when she left. đŸ€§
(To have that kind of power on a man... Ate MC, paturo naman po. Charot lang. We must aspire to be good people haha)
Oh, and by the way--
I would like to clarify something since you guys keep making so many conspiracy theories.
Regarding the characters from the fictional worlds and the real world:
The Obey Me! Characters that manifest in the fictional worlds are treated as separate entities from those in the Real World. E.g. Lucifer from the CEO’s arc is different from the Lucifer in Diavolo’s arc/Real World, so if the same character appears twice, our MC will not compare their names, appearances, etc. Think of it as a perception filter. However, you can say that they are still connected because they are alternative selves of each other. So residual affections felt by CEO!Lucifer will be felt by Real World!Lucifer.
What was the third party interference at the end?
Unless the above story wasn't clear enough, the interference was Diavolo. 
Will MC have a harem?
Who knows.
Hope that makes things clear :D
(And please keep up with the praise, this madam would sell her firstborn for more praises from you guys.)
Until the next arc, my dear readers!
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