#I cannot express how much they are my everything

[demonic0angel]

Everyone talking shit about Clockwork shoving time missions on the Phantoms. Nobody ever talks about how hard he works to keep space/time from collapsing in on itself from bad timelines.

(You’re right 😔 he needs some appreciation. I had a lot of fun with this one lmao)

Part 3 of this post and this post.

Clockwork resisted the urge to sigh as he watched another world implode via the timeline shifting from the speed force. He silently sent another note to his children workers to solve the problem. As he monitored the situation in other worlds, he kept an eye on the collapsing timeline.

Soon enough, Dan swooped in before the catalyst to beat the crap out of the person who had accidentally created a zombie apocalypse and then he was stomping his feet and throwing a rage-induced tantrum within the poor scientist’s lab, destroying everything. He was shouting and overturning tables, but couldn’t be heard through the time stream.

Clockwork resisted a sigh again. He didn’t like overworking his children employees so much either, but it had to be done.

Just as Dan left the world to rejoin his boyfriend, Clockwork continued to watch the other timelines. Three more worlds suddenly took a turn for the worst and Clockwork sent more messages to the rest of his children workers in order to fix it. He paused as the door to his lair opened and Dan burst inside.

Clockwork tried not to tense. Dan was his most volatile child employee, and he was prone to attacking anything that enraged him. Jazz had once explained that it was his coping mechanism as a decade of grief and loneliness had completely corrupted his impulse control.

Clockwork turned, pretending that he didn’t feel apprehensive about Dan’s presence. “Is there a problem…?”

Dan strode forward with a cool, almost indifferent expression. Without warning, Dan threw himself forward and onto Clockwork’s lap. Clockwork tensed, but Dan only held onto him tightly, wrapping his arms around his waist and then burying his face into his ghostly stomach.

The presence of his child someone near his stomach made him recoil tightly, but he held still.

“Clockworkkkkkk,” Dan whined. “Can’t I kill the Flashes? Please? Just one! I’ll settle for killing Wally West. Can I please kill him?”

Clockwork couldn’t help the chuckle that burst out of him. “No, you cannot. They are vital for that world’s survival.”

“They’re not vital to my sanity!”

The door burst open again and his other three children poured in, also having just finished fixing another world from collapsing. Dani immediately gasped at seeing Dan in his lap. “What! I want Clockwork cuddles too!”

The three of them joined their brother in crowding him and cuddling him, until eventually, he had all four of his children within his embrace. Clockwork released a sigh as he was forced onto his back and rubbed at Danny’s hair, who was lying on his spectral tail. Jazz leaned against him unhappily, and both Dani and Dan were laying on his stomach.

“I’m sorry for overworking you four,” Clockwork said, despite knowing that it wasn’t his fault. He had no one else to solve the problems of the Flash family, not when he was needed to watch over the time stream. “But it is necessary in order to help as many worlds as possible.”

“We don’t blame you,” Jazz said, ever the most empathetic, “it’s all of the Flashes’ faults!”

“I propose that we kill them and save us the headache!” Dan said.

Dani sighed, but also laughed. “Well, Bart is one of my best friends, but I guess he’ll have to go.”

Danny grinned and said, “Cool, I’ll take Flash.”

Clockwork smiled as his children (his wonderful, powerful, extraordinary children) started squabbling over how to kill or whether not to kill someone with the speed force. Work was difficult as someone who was devoted to protecting other timelines and worlds, but with his family by his side, life wasn’t too hard. In a way, Clockwork was almost grateful to be reborn as an Ancient.

Perhaps now, his family and existence wouldn’t end as tragically as before, with his children by his side.

[glader13]

Saudade pt. 3

Bi-Han x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

“When will I see you again?” You asked, watching him get dressed.

“Maybe soon,” he gave you a half smile, “Whenever I’m not busy with Tsung’s forces, and whenever you allow me to catch up, seeing that you are busy yourself.”

“Of course,” you smiled with a deflated heart, shame welling up once again, you aren’t his anymore. While being courted by another man, and yet, being drawn to Bi-Han. Your heart shouldn’t yearn for him, but he has it in a firm grip, unknowingly to him. The weeks following his last visit were the worst. You were torn in two, battling with emotions of guilt and selfishness. Your suitor was kind, more than kind, more than amazing, you couldn’t describe him, but you did know that you didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve this situation. But, you couldn’t help but adore how his eyes would shine when he saw you, how intentional he is about his actions and attention to you. Once again, he was perfect. But each kiss on your cheek left you feeling sick, each conversation that turned into dreams of having a large family created a pit that you would fall into. You couldn’t bear to see his kind eyes break, the forced expression of understanding, if you were to tell him that you had feelings for another man. You would settle, maybe hoping that someday you would learn to love him. You had to force the thoughts of Bi-Han out, and the feelings that came with it.

“My family is planning a visit to the countryside,” he said as the two of you walked through the gardens of your estate, “I was hoping that you could join us. It’ll be for the weekend.”

You smiled, as he lightly kissed your cheek, “You can know my family a little bit more, and we can get a little bit closer.”

“Oh really?” You smiled teasingly, though you were feeling odd, “How is that?”

“Talking,” he smirked, “But I can think of other ways.”

You playfully tapped his lips, causing him to kiss your fingers. You knew that this was inevitable, that he would want more than the crumbs that you were offering. Heart, mind, and body, he believes that you already gave him the first two, all he needs is the third. But it was impossible, there was no rush when his lips would be on your skin, time never slowed. Everything felt painfully normal. But you continued your walk, continued your smiles as he tried to cram as much information about his family so they would seem normal to you. His face flushed multiple times, as his hands moved faster than his mouth. It was adorable, it would’ve warmed anyone’s heart and made them crumble instantly. But all you felt was just a burning cold, feeling numb. You heard your mind whisper, you’re using him.

While your days with him were numbing and filling you with guilt, your nights were a paradise, a refuge created by Bi-Han’s presence. Your time together slipped into an easy, old routine, he would enter through your window, sometimes with food to “thank you for his inconvenience”, and then he would sit in front of you as you would massage the bruises out of him, the room smelling of ointment and the candles that you lit. You remember asking him why he prefers the traditional method of healing when there is magic, and his answer, once again, went straight to your heart. He told you that he seems to heal better under your steady hands, that you do something to him that magic cannot. Of course, you attributed the words to nothing more than a compliment, while hoping it was more than that. It was a peaceful routine, allowing you to indulge in feelings that you should not have, but little did you know that you were walking on glass and that your solid foundation was nothing more than a crumbling rock.

“Did you see him today?” Bi-Han asked. The question never failed to make you squirm, breaking the atmosphere of your room. Popping the fragile bubble. You softly said yes, before beginning to talk about his bruises again, then to another thing. You said anything that came to mind, anything that would allow you to not tell Bi-Han about your upcoming trip. You wanted to protect him from that truth that always hung over the two of you whenever you were together. Selfish, the thought made you pursed your lips.

“What did you talk about?” He asked, this time his hands grabbed yours, rubbing soft circles. You tried to figure out how he felt from the tone of his voice, but it was calm, not disclosing anything. You told him about the trip, and he still didn’t say anything. The usual peaceful silence was now eating you alive, your mouth itched to say something, to soothe him of his fears, but you remained quiet. Once you were done, he got up, quiet still, he got dressed. He barely spared you a glance, and when he did, it was your turn to look away. He mumbled a goodbye, getting ready to leave, when you stopped him. He turned, his eyes having a distant look in them as if searching for an answer that can only be found in you.

“Your armbands,” you sheepishly said, holding them, “you almost forgot them. Let me tie them for you.”

“No,” he quickly said, unintentionally your gaze fell back to your hands, “Actually, yes, I need the help.” He won’t allow the last time that he sees your precious face, the last time that he’ll drown in your tender eyes, to reflect that of sadness. Perhaps that is why he ignored the common sense of his mind each night he crawled through your window and waited for your return, the thought of you, your presence was enough to quiet the rational thoughts. He could never deny you.

So, as you happily tied the armbands, with your careful hands, Bi-Han tried to keep his mind on the present and not the past. But he felt his mind remind him of when you would do this, as part of your routine to help him get dressed. Back then, during that time, he adored your face of pride and the words that you would whisper words which would cause him to stubbornly look away from you with a red face. Even now, you still have that same expression, though it was coupled with a solemn expression, and he hated himself for it. He hated how he realized that he still loved you when it was too late. You looked up at him when you were done, squeezing his hand. He couldn’t control himself, easily falling into old habits, he lifted your chin, simultaneously melting in your gaze and yearning for you. He wondered what you would do if he owned up to his actions, and apologized for his mistakes. He wondered if you would leave with him if he asked you to come back to the Lin Kuei temple, to come back home. He would do anything to stop you from being in the arms of a stranger.

But, he’s not what you need. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

He kissed your forehead, “Goodbye, y/n.” That was the last time you saw him in your room. And you just watched him leave, the lingering sensation from his kiss was the only proof that he was there.

~

The trip to the countryside was short, only a couple of hours. You were crammed next to him, alleviating the need to act like you were in love. You stared at the rolling hills that passed you by as you drifted in and out of conversation. You wondered where Bi-Han was, if he was fighting in one of the other realms, or if he was in the same position as you: thinking. Thinking of all the words that should have been spoken, thinking of all the touches that shouldn’t have happened during those nights in your room. Moments that you know you won’t ever recreate with your betrothed.

But once he kissed you, you forced yourself to believe that it was easier to pretend.

Their countryside home was large, seemingly a mini palace. Grand hallways had a perfect view of the green fields on one side and the other revealing the gardens. The estate had several large study spaces with books that spanned from the floor to the ceiling. The rooms were gorgeous and large, and yours in particular faced the lake. Your balcony opened up to the lakeshore, creating a walkway to the gazebo.

“I can imagine some nights out there,” he said, kissing you on the back of your neck, “It’ll be nice.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, before kissing him, “It will be.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon with his siblings, his two brothers, and three sisters, and their significant others. You were all tasked with shopping in the local village for food. Your fiancé helped you through the busy streets, as the two of you were tasked with finding spices and fruits, his hand never leaving your waist. You should have been comforted. You felt yourself bracing when you decided to sell the act, forcing conformity in an attempt to blur the action into comfort. Yet, when you would go out with Bi-Han, his hand on your waist was an anchor that kept you steady. His stillness thrilled your body, causing you to want him more. You constantly felt his presence when he would walk behind you, causing you to feel bolder than you were before. But, with your fiancé, you felt achingly normal. You saw your future cement further looking into his eyes, shining with something that you can’t reflect. Just like the fruit that you two tasted before buying it, he was sweet. Too sweet for you and your sour mind.

You regretted leaving the village, it gave you something to do, to focus on. Back at his parents’ estate, you fell easily into your role. You helped his mother with everything and laughed at everything that she said. You had to be perfect, to hide the cracks that were beginning to show. In the moments when you were alone, everything slowed. You observed everything, feeling like a scientist, or more accurately, a stranger. They made it all seem so easy, deceiving you into believing that you could be snuggled up next to him. But you hung back, noticing their whispers, no doubt talking about your shyness. You smiled whenever you would catch their eyes, it’s going to be a long weekend.

In the following days, you felt that you were suspended in time, observant still, but never feeling truly there. When you would engage, it seemed that you were watching yourself, as if someone had possessed you. Physically there, but stuck in your mind. The family activities can only be described as a blur to you, once again you were only physically there. But, you still participated, giving answers that sounded genuine to them, but machine-like to you. The perfect bride, his perfect wife. You often wonder about the relationship between his siblings, of his mother, when you would sit with them. You wonder if they were like you, smiles hiding a numbness that can only come with being stuck with someone by force. You wonder if they feel alone, despite sleeping in the arms of another, if their dreams are occupied with the one that they had to let go of. Was this real love, or something akin to care? Love bought by forced proximity, is not love at all.

But then, it could be. After all, you loved, still love, Bi-Han, as if it were natural. You felt your heart drop, wanting nothing more than to look upon his face and have his lips on yours. You’re tired of the feeling of want, you want him here, by your side indefinitely. You felt a soft breeze, causing you to smile. You took it as a sign that he was feeling the same way. At least, when you dream, it’ll be Bi-Han’s face, it’ll be his voice in your mind, and when you close your eyes, you’ll imagine that it is his hands, that it is his lips marking your body. You’ll have to pretend, despite your heart being in a headlock. You wished that you were better than this, but you’re selfish, wanting necessity and pleasure. You looked up from your spot by the lake, watching your fiancé smile without care, smiling without knowing that your heart is longing to be with another. What clumsy hands you have.

“Finally,” your fiancé sighed, lying on the bed, “We’re alone.”

You nodded, staring at the lake, watching the moon’s reflection, though you felt the same relief. You felt the bed dip behind you, feeling his lips softly kiss the back of your neck. You reminded yourself not to tense up, imagining Bi-Han’s lips. You felt his hand slip underneath your clothing, the shakiness of his hand a stark contrast to Bi-Han’s. You could feel your fiancé’s breaths, as he tried to act calm, but they were quick and shallow. His hand playfully pulled at your underwear, feeling along the fringes. You held your breath, not knowing whether you should pretend or not.

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his hand, “Let’s talk please.”

His face turned red, as he quickly apologized, before falling silent. He still sat next to you, though he played with his hands in his lap. You broke the silence by asking if he wanted to walk along the lake’s shore, and he agreed. The water softly crashing against the shore was lulling you, easing your mind away from the guilt of wanting someone else. To your surprise, he asked you about Bi-Han, and you couldn’t help yourself, opening like a geyser. The love that has been plaguing you on this trip, permeated through every word, making your heart jump from old memories. As you talked, you wondered if you were speaking too fondly of Bi-Han, if your fiancé could still hear the love in your voice. Well, if he can, at least the darkness of the night hid your smile.

“All your siblings, including you, have had your marriages arranged?” You asked.

He nodded, and you continued, “And they, love each other?” He nodded, saying of course.

“How do they know that it’s real? Their love?”

“I guess, they just feel it,” he began, and this time, you felt brave enough to look into his eyes, “Every thought is consumed by their partner, you long for them, like the air that we breathe. To you, they’re the sun and the moon, you can’t wait to see their face again. Quite simply, you need them, they’re your other half. It feels natural to love them.”

He took your hand, kissing the back of it, “What I’m feeling is real.” He whispered those words, but he never asked you for confirmation. Perhaps he knew that you weren’t feeling anything, not wanting to pop his glass balloon. You guess that he’s pretending too.

A/N: There’s going to be either one or two more parts after this. And also, that pic of Bi-Han, it’s sooo scrumptious.

[impactrueno]

I saw your twt about holding back on telling stories with serious and deep tones and it reminded me of an issue I had a while back. Im a south park fan and I loved reading deep analysis of the characters. and south park being south park, people dont take it seriously and think its just funny so it doesnt deserve deep analysis like other forms of media. I always came across comments saying "its not that deep" or "doing all of that for south park" and I used to hate that so much because why are you commenting that under the authors post? In media there is like a "spectrum" of how deep you are in it as a fan, and it doesn't make you less of a fan if you like to binge watch the show when you feel like it because its funny. Someone who makes fan fiction and psychoanalyses the characters doesnt make them a better fan than you. I hate "it's not deep" because it is that deep to me, I enjoy it, but it dismisses critical thinking and discourages deep discussions about our interests. I want to learn more about the turning point for eric cartman and the friendship dynamics between the main 4. I want to read psychoanalysis of the characters and understand why they do the things they do. I loved reading fan fics with an author that understood how the characters work and put them in situations while making it believable. Whether the content was deep and serious or lighthearted and silly. I don't see those as cringe at all. What I see as cringe is trying to downplay someones time and effort. you dont care for it. cool, just dont make it our problem.

I believe in recent years, this cringe and its not that deep mentality is linked to media literacy/reading comprehension issues. On top of the fact, that fandoms right now has been "normalized", so alot of mean and rude kids and adults are in this space not having a mature and respectful conversation and discussions, as well as zero fandom etiquette. (I understand the past wasnt this magical respectful place but this behaviour has increased compared to past years).

Please don't worry about making deep content, its super fun and there will be fans of what you write/draw that will definitely be into it.

GOSH anon you are absolutely right. cringe culture has done some serious damage to people's creativity and freedom of expression. doing things in earnest is now cringe to so many people (specifically that 18-21 age where they think they're better than everyone else and everything is cringe to them, image is everything) and they actually give you shit for it?? it's crazy. the most harmless thing in the world. whenever my hey arnold comics would leave my target audience on instagram i would get the meanest comments for no fucking reason, because i was taking hey arnold "seriously" (nevermind that hey arnold is probably the nicktoon with the most emotional depth and moments besides ginger but i digress) but hey at least i'm not the one losing my marbles over some random cartoon comic on the internet.

i think rudeness in general has been too normalized not just in fandom, but in social media in general. it's sad. the only thing you can do about it is be kind as much as you can to counterbalance it. i'd like to think that rubs off on people just like how being rude rubbed off on them.

i said that thing about holding back because i'm admittedly too hard on myself sometimes. no one is calling me cringe or making fun of me for what i do, thankfully, people have been super cool and supportive. and it means a lot to me because i'm very earnest about everything i create, even when i try to hold back. i literally cannot help being myself. it's all i know how to do. i'm just glad i was able to grow a platform where i'm free to be openly passionate about the things i like, talk about them and why i like them, the little things that i find fascinating, the emotions they make me feel, all of that shit is awesome and i wish more people did that.

[sleepy-aletheas]

Haikaveh, art, and rugs

Once again, I've been thinking about the damn rugs in the teapot, and reading their descriptions just reminded me that Kaveh and Alhaitham are so similar in many ways, but because their similarities "switch" where they focus, it just seems like they're inherently opposite of each other.

Like for instance; Kaveh is an aesthete that tries to integrate artistic expression and practical functionality in architecture - to him the human touch is essential, because the purpose of architecture is to reflect the people, the time, and the culture. It being a discipline has to come with more than "smush a few random materials together", it needs a reason, a deliberate thought and goal.

From his perspective, function cannot sustain a human alone, which makes sense on its own. Barebones of a house don't make a comforting home, doesn't stimulate the senses right, doesn't make a very restful place to stay in for long periods of time.

But what is often made his number one characteristic by people, is his love and appreciation for the arts. To a detriment, but I'll get to that. There is no denying, Kaveh values art, the creation and maintenance, the historical documentation of people existing before in a tangible sense - that is something Kaveh seeks even for himself. He wants to be remembered for his architecture when his name fades from records in time; his art, a part of his thoughts and feelings, will linger way longer than the memory of him as a person.

And I think there is a disconnect between his perspective on art, and the perception of him as a character that values art.

I already harped on him being made an overemotional mess outside the game, because he's more animated and loud and emotionally more in tune with himself; but there is also the other thing people tend to do - they take his notion of "integrating artistic expression and practical functionality", and just drop the practical part and make him a "head in the clouds, naive, helpless dreamer" that has little to no knowledge of how the real world works (hyperbolically speaking for the most part, but you get the point). The amount of times he is depicted as someone who disregards functionality because "of beauty and artistry" is fascinating, or where it takes precedence over practicality to his detriment is....equally odd.

Is he described in-game as someone who has big ambitions and bigger dreams? Yes. The last person saying something like that was Faruzan in the last event. The thing is, these things don't contradict the ability of being practical. Or making everything work in the real world. It just means he has to work harder, calculate things through more often on a bigger scale, and do his due diligence to achieve his goals and make them reality.

Kaveh is a way more grounded character than people let on; he knows the value of hard work, of resting and taking time off work to recharge, however much it feels like he's a recluse 25/7 always late to a deadline or nine. Just because Kaveh deals with a lot of internal strain and battles, does not mean he's not a capable adult that can't do rational decisions.

(he's a pathetic-type of funny "why does this keep happening to me" guy that just somehow gets unlucky a lot, gets roped into something easily, or is being plain silly; he's still someone who graduated with honors on top of his class, is loved across the whole nation, and did a lot of projects that aren't just the debt creating Palace of Alcazarzaray; he has layers, don't strip him of them)

With that being said, the rug in question that is connected to him is interesting - The Olive Grove is a relatively simply designed rug, whose biggest value is from what and what way it's created.

The reason this is interesting to me is, Sumeru decided at some point in time to reduce the rugs to simpler geometric designs, because it seemed disrespectful to step on beauty and someone's likeness.

And my point is, that Kaveh doesn't care how the carpets look with the improved way equipment and better manufacturing ability. He doesn't focus on the materials or the artistry of it all - doesn't even notice that he somehow contributed to that development in a roundabout way. He focuses on the equipment that assists the process; not the end result, but the way to get to it. He focuses on the practical mechanism to arrive at the artistic function of the end product. And that is the whole point of his own architectural method, no? He builds the foundation, creates the basis of his project, and then he can add all the beauty and life to it once it can stand on its own. Without the practical there would be no lasting art; without the art there would be no reason keeping a practical heap of something that is replaceable. To Kaveh, there need to be both things at the same time.

Alhaitham on the other hand is someone who doesn't go out of his way...for anything, really. He likes to go through life with the least amount of detours and problems. He prefers functionality over art, because the art part is an add on that he simply doesn't personally want to work towards.

That does not mean he suddenly hates art (as it's often seen) or that he thinks lesser of artists and people who pursue these things (he respects Nilou and Kaveh; it's just that he nags Kaveh incessantly so he takes care of himself in a very 'old married couple trice divorced never married' way). It's just not his goal, or his top priority.

Honestly? Him dressing with so many accessories, him doodling (we'll get back to that in a bit), playing the dutar, buying decorations (however awful for whatever reason that might be), letting Kaveh decorate their home...that aren't really things people who hate art do. That seems awfully indulgent.

And on the note of doodles; his associated rug Glorious Emerald Tapestry is so much more complex than it should be if its origin is inspired by someone who hates the arts and thinks of them a useless and frivolous.

If anything, this just shows that Alhaitham has an innate understanding of beauty, but because it's not the focus of his existence or thoughts, it just becomes a fact of reality. Flowers aren't suddenly beautiful because someone can wax poetics for fifty minutes per petal; they're simply flowers, and they're pretty. That's all. A sunset is beautiful even if someone doesn't make overcomplicated monologues in metaphors about it. Stopping to admire the landscape when he goes from place to place, or indulge in a moment of beauty is not a contradiction of his character - it's him simply experiencing the truth of the moment that was already there. That's all it sometimes is.

So his doodles making it into the hands of someone else who created intrinsic tapestries is really funny, because he wasn't going out of his way to create that - it was a byproduct as he was doing mental gymnastics to solve puzzles. It wasn't his focus, but it still was something from the depths of his person that managed to crawl out into the light. (also it's a pretty funny image that his doodles somehow make it onto academic papers or somewhere in public documents/books as he's reading, and people snatch it up to make "proper" art from it)

Also, the difference of the rugs is amusing:

Both are so pretty, but one's purpose being more focused on utility (Kaveh) and the other more complicated in method and outcome (Alhaitham) is such a fun "switch up", that just hammers in how similar they are, but often times those similarities don't overlap, and instead makes them more different.

Kaveh is someone who seeks art and utility in one; still he admires beauty and values it, but that beauty needs to be build from a firm base and have a reason behind it (even if it's just emotions).

Alhaitham is someone who doesn't care to go out of his way for art, but needs utility; and yet he still invites and makes space for beauty in his life, because that's simply the truth of the world, and there doesn't need to be a more important reason than that.

...They make me lose my mind every single day that I breathe istg...

[neuvigroove]

𝒊 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒗𝒂𝒕.

pairings. childhood best friend!aether x fem reader synopsis. as the abyss queen, you decide it's finally time to put an end to aether's journey. genre/warnings. angst, lingering feelings, best friends to enemies, mentions of death and murder wc. 722 a/n. brb gotta go wipe my tears

[700 years ago]

somewhere only we know - keane "is this the place we used to love? is this the place that i've been dreaming of?"

"aether!" you groan. "you've ruined everything."

the blond boy standing just a couple feet away from you scratches his neck and gives you an awkward smile. "...sorry?"

you throw the juice-stained cloth at him and it smacks him in the face before landing on the floor.

both you and aether abruptly look towards the door when you hear loud footsteps approaching the room. "what is happening?" demands an annoyed-looking lumine.

"aether spilled juice all over my brand new blankets," you whine. "i was so excited to sleep with those."

lumine rolls her eyes and walks out of the room. aether meets your eyes and a laugh spills out of his lips when he looks at your sulky expression.

he nudges your shoulder. "come on... forgive me?"

"no," you glare. "now go do the laundry, you loaf of bread."

you hear aether sigh before you stomp out. "you and my sister are becoming more similar by the day."

[present time]

war of hearts - ruelle "i can't help but love you even though i try not to"

"you've ruined everything," the familiar boy finally says. hearing his voice after all these years brings you a sort of pain that twists your heart until you feel you cannot breathe.

you close your eyes for a moment. just a moment to relive the past.

growing up with the twins. your last journey together. the unknown god separating you and lumine from aether. the cataclysm. becoming the abyss queen.

you allow yourself to let one tear fall. one tear for the boy you once loved.

"y/n!" he shouts. you can see his floating companion peer up at you with half confusion half horror. seems like aether hasn't told anyone about you. but maybe that's just because it hurts too much.

"your journey ends here, aether."

"bring back lumine," he shouts. "i know you're with her!"

you give him a look of pity. "she no longer wants anything to do with you. as do i."

"you liar-"

"wake up, aether! you don't know the truth of this world. nothing will ever be the same, we will never be the same," you shout.

a look of hurt flashes in his wide eyes. then sadness. then anger.

"just bring lumine back to me," he says as he unsheathes his sword.

"it seems you haven't heard a word i just said."

"the abyss queen?" he glares. "i will stop you if it's the last thing i do in teyvat."

aether strikes his sword, lunging at you before you easily dodge his attack and paralyze him in the air. he's unable to move his body no matter how hard he tries. his expression goes taut. "y-you haven't lost your power-"

"i'm not like you, aether." you walk closer to him. "we don't originate from the same world. have you forgotten?"

"you're not y/n. you'll nev-"

"the y/n you knew is long gone," you say softly. "and don't assume lumine is any different. she's the abyss princess after all."

aether doesn't say anything.

"join our cause, aether. become the abyss king. my king."

he struggles to get his words out as his body goes numb. "i will never- be like you."

"it looks like i was wrong about you then. i was a fool to think i'd be more important to you than those stupid lies you've been told."

he can't speak anymore and you can see it in his locked jaw. just kill him now, you tell yourself. he's only setting everything back. he's destroying everything you've worked for.

you grip your power harder against his taut body. he can't move and oh, but he's in so much pain. he's in pain because of you. he can't even scream when he wants to. he hates you. he's going to die because of you-

the hysteria clouds your vision and then-

and then...

you let him go.

aether falls to the ground with a cry.

"you can't stop me," you say. "you're powerless against the abyss. the natlan war was nothing. you are nothing."

"i-i hate you," he pants.

"oh?" a sudden pain fills your heart to the brim. "then let's hope we'll never cross paths again, traveler."

[hydrangeapartridge]

The Last Day of a Condemned Woman (Veilguard Female Rook/Emmrich)

Beware spoilers for Emmrich's quest line.

Okay so I wrote a little something thinking about the day Johanna would receive her punishment and Emmrich and Rook would have to say goodbye to her. Set after the events of the game.

It's a bit sad but also domestic Rook and Emmrich!

Enjoy!

«Darling, have you seen my collar pin ? » Emmrich’s strained voice was heard from the bedroom, distant noises of his shuffling around reaching Rook’s ears.

« I believe it would be in the box where you always put it away, on the nighstand ? » She replied from the living room.

« I already searched there an it wasn- » Emmrich started before he interrupted himself, then grumbled something intelligible. « Nevermind, I found it ! » He told her from afar.

Rook chuckled to herself. Emmrich was obviously stressed. It was unusual for him to misplace his belongings. He was a very organized and tidy man ; except for the eventual stray papers and books that could litter his desk when he was really engrossed in his studies. So much so that when Rook moved in with him, she didn’t quite feel at home in the space that he had inhabited alone for years. But that was ancient history. Now his cosy but spacious residence in Nevarra was their home. And Manfred’s of course.

Emmrich was stressed but he had reasons to be. Today was a big day.

« Urgh, now he has memory impairement.. I cannot fathom how you decided to attach yourself to that senile sentimental you call ‘husband’ » Johanna’s voice echoed from her skull under the glass container that Rook carried her in.

Husband. That notion was familiar too now. It had been a few years already since Rook and Emmrich exchanged vows, first alone in the intimacyof the Necropolis’ garden where they first kissed, with Shroud’s Kiss flowers in her hands and hair, and then in style with the people they loved in the beautiful scenary of her native Arlathann.

Rook sighed at Johanna’s usual bickering but didn’t grace her with a reply. That onlt served to irritate the undead more.

« I heard you again last night you know ! How that decrepit weakling can go at it like that without breaking his osteoporotic bones is beyond me ! »

It wasn’t the first time Johanna said something crass of the sort, yet Rook still blushed, remembering the events of the previous night. What started with her gently holding her troubled husband turned into less chaste activities to keep his mind off things when he got frustrated that he couldn’t find sleep.

It was a delightfuly tender moment, and a good way to then spend a good night. But Rook didn’t really want to share that with a half-liche power hungry necromancer.

« Jealous Johanna ? » Rook grinned, regaining her composure and usual cockiness. « You won’t be getting any anytime soon I fear »

Johanna only huffed indignantly.

After a beat of silence, Rook asked more gently. « So, ready for the big day ? »

« You mean the day I finally get to leave that sickenly sweet home of yours ? » Johanna scoffed again.

Rook was used to her antics, that old lady didn’t know how to express herself in any other way.

« At least my ordeal will end there » Johanna dramatically added.

Those Necromancers really had a thing for the dramatic.

The corners of Rook’s lips turned down. « It would be okay to be afraid you know » She said, lower this time.

« Afraid ?! Me ?! » Johanna of course was offended. « Unlike Volkarin I am not a coward »

She paused and the silence felt heavy in the room.

« I’ll face whatever will come, like I did everything else »  Her voice came from the skull, quieter this time.

Rook’s fingers ran over the glass of Johanna’s highly warded prison, almost synmpathetically. After a long trial, as well as years of researches and discussions, the Liche Masters of the Mourn Watch adjudicated the case of Johanna Hezenkoss, as well as the punishment for her crimes. And the day of judgement was this very one.

After a ritual in which Emmrich was to participate, Johanna’s soul would be cut from any contact with the fade, and then, all maimed and powerless, would be imprisonned in a forgotten dark corner of the Necropolis, guarded by spirits and warded by the most powerful of spells, for eternity. As a mage, Rook likened her fate to being made Tranquil. A fate worse than death, and a life of suffering for a soul that wouldn’t be complete anymore. It was a fate she wouldn’t have wished upon even such an ennemy.

Dear Emmrich in all his kindness and idealism voted against that cruel punishment, but he sadly wasn��t part of the decisive majority.

« I’ll miss you Johanna » Rook half jested half confessed.

All these years they had kept her, for it was Emmrich’s duty to watch her. When they could have put her away in an abandonned room, they chose to keep her in Emmrich’s study. Guarding her was a duty he took very seriously (like he always did with work), and which also allowed him to regularly converse with an old friend (on the rare occasions where said friend was in a good enough mood not to insult him). Johanna had been part of their lives since the Veilguard, and seeing her go was like turning a page over years of their shared lives.

If Rook felt nostalgic, she couldn’t begin to picture how Emmrich felt on this day. Given how long he took to get dressed, it must have been worse than she thought.

« Of course you’ll miss me » Johanna retorted « I’m the only interesting person in this house ! »

Rook didn’t pay attention to her and asked Manfred to go check on Emmrich.

- - -

If the Necropolis could sometimes feel warm, intimate and inviting, the room where they stood felt as cold as ice.

Emmrich stood before Rook in his elegant gold and black ceremony attire. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and of his lips were deeper than when they met, from age and from smiling so much since then. There was more white now than grey in his hair, but he still looked most dashing of all the necromancers present. However Rook could tell his posture was stiff and his shoulders tensed when he carefully took the glass container that held Johanna’s skull in his gloved hands.

« Thank you for accompanying me today darling » He whispered as not to disturb the ambiant calm.

« Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss Johanna’s retirement party » She joked to try and alleviate the heavy tension in the air.

« You know you won’t be able to attend dearest »Emmrich seriously replied. She knew that, he already told her so, but she let it slide. « And it’s best you don’t. The ritual might be… difficult to handle for unprepared souls»

Emmrich was frowning and Rook knew he wasn’t eager to participate in the curse Johanna would be put under. She wished she could support him further. She placed one hand over his and squeezed gently ; she couldn’t do much more.

« Let us get this over with » Vorgoth’s voice echoed behind them.

Emmrich let out a deep sigh and gave Rook an admitedly melancholic smile. « See you soon darling »

Rook waved and let out a casual « Bye Johanna » trying not to let emotion fill her. Her goodbye got no answer.

Manfred stepped beside her and watched Emmrich walk to the other necromancers, observing, curious as ever.

« Sad ? » He asked.

He kept surprising Rook everyday with how much he improved in magic, language, and these days even grasping human emotions, trying to understand them in his own way.

« Yeah. Saying goodbye is always a bit sad »

Manfred nodded with a contemplative whistling sound.

- - -

The group of mages performing the ritual was already in place. All Emmrich had to do now was open the large ornated doors of the grand auditorium and join them. This would be over soon and he would go back home with Rook and Manfred and forget about the horror of it all.

Taking another slow shaky breath to calm his nerves, he went for the door handle when a short call of « Volkarin ! » stopped him, making him jump in surprise.

He eyed down Johanna’s skull, blinking twice then clearing his throat to regain his composure. « What is it Johanna? Last words or requests maybe ? » He asked kindly, ready to listen to her like he would anyone on the verge of dying. She did terrible things in the past, but he still made it a point to respect the final wishes of a sentenced soul.

Johanna didn’t answer immediately, and Emmrich started wondering if she was stalling. But then her voice came out, low and softer, just how he remembered it from their shared years as students.

« Will you be there until the end of the ritual ? »

Emmrich’s gaze softened « I will » He promised.

A beat of silence. Then a voice from inside urging him.

« Be more strict with the wayward company you dare call a family would you ? » Johanna said when he reached for the door again. He stopped but before he could retort, she whispered her last words.

«  Live long, and live well, you impossible man »

- - -

Rook was tapping her foot nervously when the large doors of the auditorium finally opened. Waiting for Emmrich had felt like an eternity. She kept worrying something would go wrong. Johanna was full of surprises, and it wouldn’t have been past her to try and get out of her sentence with a few dirty tricks. She was relieved to see only calm necromancers exit the room, unharmed. Everything seemed to have gone right.

Now to see in what state of sorrow she would get her soft husband back.

Emmrich was the last to exit, stepping away from the group carrying the funeral urn in which the remains of what once was Johanna were trapped. He didn’t spare a word to anyone and rushed to rejoin with Rook. He stopped before her, looking down, inhaling deeply before he straightened up, repositionning his already perfectly adjusted collar.

« It is done » He told her, nodding his head solemnly.

When he looked up to meet Rook’s eyes, she saw how misty his warm brown gaze was. She tenderly raised a hand to cradle his cheek and gently wipped an unshed tear from the corner of his eye.

Emmrich leaned into the touch for a short moment of indulgence, then sniffed and cleared his throat, stepping back. « The ritual was messy ; old books, bones, dust everywhere... » He mumbled, keeping his crying in check with a rub of his gloved thumb under each eye. Of course he would blame it on allergies. He probably didn’t want the others to see how affected he was.

Watchers were supposed to be at peace with loss and accept it with detachment. Emmrich’s tender heart never quite achieved that, but to Rook, it only made him more human and more lovable.

Rook took his hand and slowly traced his pulsepoint with her thumb. « My dear husband, the love in your heart overflows it seems. » She smiled just for him. « Let’s get you home to a nice warm cup of tea »

« Home ! » Manfred chirped in, excited. « Tea and biscuits ! » He raised his arms in the air. « With sugar ! » He then added, mimicking the sugar clamp he loved so much with his hand. The spirit’s show of enthusiasm made Emmrich chuckle, the sound still a bit wet from his tears.

« Yes my dears. Let us go home »

[sparkleboiswagger]

I think it could very well be plausible that if Chuuya died, (please Chuuya please die), Dazai would cry.

Every time I mention the possibility of Dazai crying if Chuuya died, everyone gets mad at me lol. So please let me explain myself. -This is simply my interpretation of Dazai's character, but I'm open to criticism and discussion cuz I think its fun and I like gaining new understandings of characters like that.- Also to preface this, this is my ideal situation of how Chuuya would perma die

I want Chuuya to think Dazai's dead, but the readers know he isnt, so Chuuya goes absolutely apeshit with corruption and Dazai has to watch, unable to get there in time until Chuuya's body dies. By the time Dazai gets there, he's able to turn him back in time for Chuuya to call him an idiot, and then dies in Dazai's arms For the angst, y'know? ANYWAYS

Reason 1: Dazai is a lot more emotionally there than he was when Oda died I know Dazai didn't cry when Oda died. I'm not suggesting Chuuya means more to him than Oda (I think he's important to Dazai for different reasons, not more or less important), but when Dazai was in the mafia he wasn't in a place where he was able to feel emotions. He was completely shut down and emotionless. He's been out of the mafia for 4 years, and though old habits die hard, I think you can reasonably conclude he's allowed himself to feel more. Especially with Atsushi, you can see how he's changed over the seasons. Looking back at the Dark Era is especially chilling because of this. He's found comfort and safety in good people, learned to rely on them, and overall grown "happier"

Reason 2: Dazai is scared right now. I'm fairly certain I've seen more honest expressions on his face in the recent chapters than we have in the whole series /ex Dazai is either not even bothering to hide his emotions, or he's so stressed that he cannot keep the mask up right now. Either way, he's likely scared of losing Atsushi, or Kunikida, or another person he cares about again. Intense negative emotions followed by a loss he likely isn't even considering as possibility very well could make him snap.

Reason 3: Chuuya is the last person still there who was there during the most messed up times of his life. Its not just the death of Chuuya, it would be the compounding effects of everything. Oda is dead. Ango betrayed him. He was Chuuya's safety, the one person who could bring him down and back to reality in a very literal sense, and Chuuya was the same to him, but more in regards to life and his emotions (imo). And if he died from corruption while Dazai watched, he would have failed Chuuya. Reason 4: It would be an interesting way to show his development, if it was written to parallel Oda's death I think if he was able to shed even one tear for Chuuya, it would show how much he'd evolved. More than anything, more than I want him to cry in mourning for Chuuya, I'd like to see him cry in front of Kunikida and Atsushi. Also yes I think Kunikida is coming back, Asagiri cannot commit to a death for the life of him

If the fan theories of Dazai being forced back into the mafia are true, Chuuya's death would just add a layer of cruelty to that. He'd have to go back to where he was before, without any of the people there who helped him through it, after finally finding some semblance of peace and normalcy IN CONCLUSION Am I a bit Soukoku brained? Yeah sure. But thats only a part of why I would like this. Dazai crying would be beautifully devastating, depending on how it was written. I don't necessarily think it would happen in canon, but I don't think its impossible. Also I'm sure theres a lot I misunderstood about Dazai, I've only been analyzing him for a few months and I am admittedly much more obsessed with Chuuya lol, please share your takes unless its just that Dazai doesn't actually care about Chuuya in canon cuz thats a load of bull <3

[oficeandwind]

kami doesn't know what to say in response. he's fully aware that cyno has EVERY reason to feel as bitter as he does right now. cyno's voice is dripping with every negative emotion he probably feels right now. kami isn't in a position to defend himself either. hadn't he made this choice too? to face retribution head on, rather than trying to change the past, as he had learned is somewhat possible?

as soon as kaminari opens his mouth to speak, nahida is entering the sanctuary, cutting the pair off from what kami fears might be another fight. she looks weary, yet calm, given the circumstances.

"kaminari," she says quietly. "i once laid the choice in your hands. i continue to leave that to you, but i must emphasize the current situation first." she closes her eyes briefly, before opening them and placing a hand over her heart.

"the grand sage is willing to overlook this if you both pay for the damages done to the house of daena. kaveh has offered to help repair it. i am in agreement that you're both responsible for this. further, kaminari was under strict guidance to not step foot inside the house of daena for around a month. the other students felt it would be wise, and i cannot disagree."

"but i―" kami starts to protest. being banned? that's hardly fair. unfortunately, she's holding a hand out to cut him off.

"i cannot express how disappointed i am in the behavior you both have shown," she continues. "as much as i want to defend your honor and make excuses, this is a chance for all of us to learn patience and wisdom in the face of conflict and doubt." she turns to cyno then, once more using her dendro to ease the pain and injury he probably still feels.

"you are still the general mahamatra and have unheeded access to anywhere you might need. the grand sage does not wish to impede your authority over the other matra and sages. and as for the conflict between you both―"

she sighs. nahida falls silent for what feels like a long time. "i had hoped that i would be able to help you two build a bond of friendship that's stronger than what had taken place in the past. but that is not my place to interfere, either. it is on the two of you to overcome it. as i promised kaminari, i will remain silent and let him explain his story. i am merely here to observe his growth as a person, and bear witness to the qualities i know are inside him."

kami stares at her, several emotions combining into one that doesn't make any sense anymore. banned, from the house of daena? why? logically, he KNOWS why. kami had made a mistake, and he should be punished for it. but a month without being able to contribute much of anything useful sounds cruel and horrible. furthermore, it feels like even more of a knife wedged into his chest, because nahida feels it's a just punishment. for a brief second, he no longer sees an ally in her, but the dendro archon she should have been many years ago. she's still a god, and he'd let himself forget this briefly due to her kindness and warmth.

kaminari feels cold, and hollow, like something had been ripped from him a second time. part of him wants to turn and leave, but he refuses to run from his problems this time. not when cyno deserves an explanation. strange, that the one person who seems to hate him most is the one reason kami's pushing himself to stay.

"...where do i begin?" he finally asks. gaze focused on cyno. the least he can do is answer EVERYTHING cyno potentially asks him. "ask me anything, i'll answer to the best of my abilities."

No... that was wrong. He wasn't looking at Nahida like he thought. Only strongly sensing her presence. Cyno's awareness of his surroundings sharpened gradually, until he recognized the verdant walls of the Sanctuary.

A place that had filled him with comfort and pride for so long. Now, it filled him with doubt.

The moment he was left with no support, the General let himself slump down to sit on the steps with a grunt. His eyes looked up, slowly, to sear through the Wanderer's back. Immediately, the memory of that mark emerged in the confused tangle of thoughts and visions. His frown hardened once more... at least he'd recovered enough to do so.

"All this time..." He muttered. "I've spent so many days and nights haunted by the thought I might never find the Balladeer... That your memory would disappear into thin air before I could even get a substantial lead."

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He'd spoken to Kaminari... He'd observed him. Played with him. Competed with him. He'd trusted him.

It almost felt like the person he'd come to know had just been ripped out of his hands, to be replaced with something horrible and painful.

"... Yet here you were this whole time, under my very nose."

This was the pain of betrayal.

[ruporas]

can’t help falling for you

[arom-antix]

So.

That new Gearous Yuuri birthday art, huh?

[crabplatinum]

manager bud!!

[polycrews]

ddcds. for u (hopefully ur day will b a bit better!)

had to take a second to respond to this because dear GOD this made me lose coherent thoughts. ahem

[blitzbuckz]

*sees ppl reblogging my pinned promo && saying nice things*

me :

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Aventurine.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF THE NORMANDY SUMMIT

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Primarch Adrien Victus, Dalatrass Linron, and Urdnot Wrex With: Comm. Specialist Samantha Traynor Commander, you need to keep Cerberus at bay- I can't overstate what a victory a treaty between the Turians and the Krogan would be for the Alliance. We need all the help we can get... Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[morgue-me]

SAMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!! YOUR CHRISTMAS GIFT WAS MY FUCKING FAVORITE YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND!

@littlebundleofchaos