#I feel completely healed of all ailments.

[rustedleopard]

If you have Clover living with their monster friends, you gotta play up the differences between their biologies and make Clover look like a genuine freak in their eyes. You just gotta.

Starlo thinks he knows humans soooooooo well because he's watched human movies, yet the split second he sees their nose bleeding from the dry air, he's like "Ah shit. Any sort of bleeding is bad. Is this a fatal amount of blood loss? What do I do??? It just keeps coming out!" Ceroba is like "There can't be that many differences between a monster kid and a human kid. I've already raised one, how hard can another one be?" And then they get the flu, and since disease isn't really a thing with monsters, she's concerned that they're starting to Fall Down (<- okay, this one isn't funny). Martlet finds out that humans need to supplement their diet with things like fiber and iron, but apparently you can't just feed them cut up pieces of cloth and iron filings, that'll kill them. They find out that humans have internal organs and are made of cells and they're be simultaneously disgusted and intrigued. Like, you're made of a bunch of little parts? And those parts make up flesh tubes in your body and stuff? And they're doing their own thing all the time?? Without your awareness??? Does it feel weird????

"Oh, Clover has a 105°F fever but that's only a few degrees higher than how warm they usually are, I'm sure they're fine." <- Deranged statement uttered by one of them at some point.

[genderless-naper]

healing hearts

trafalgar law x gf!reader

↳ requested, sfw, fluff!

wc: 2.2k, lowercase intended!

after exploring a new island law finds himself having to care for you due to your weak immune system

⇣ credits to the original artist

the island the submarine docked at had a bustling town that was ready to be explored by the heart pirates. you followed your crew mates as they venture through the different stalls and try exotic foods. the overflowing of the townspeople caused you to lose track of your crewmate. you didn’t worry much, and decided to use this opportunity to do some solo exploration.

you talked with some vendors, played with some kids, fed the stray cats, and so much more. at the end of the day you met up with your once lost crew mates at the docked submarine. you all chatted and exchanged experiences regarding the now explored town. you found yourself engulfed in all the fun stories being told, and you hadn’t realized you had started coughing.

the cough wasn’t horrible. it was light enough to be brushed off without a second thought. the only person which the cough raised concerned for was your captain, and beloved significant other. he recognized the patterns of what he called your ‘weak immune system’. it would always play out the same; you go exploring a new area, you meet people and try new things, you seem fine during the moment, but then come down with some of the worst ailment law has seen.

just as he predicted you spent your night in a mess. your cough would become so aggressive it would jolt you both out of your sleep realms. your sneezes would fill the bed with used tissues. an extra bin was readily placed on the floor next to the bed in the situation where you might’ve a bad case of food poisoning and had to throw up. law always prepares supplies the nights he expects you to need them.

this wasn’t the first time your weakened immune system caused law to have to play personal doctor. these strange occurrences leave law to work overtime to be able to cater to your road towards a healthier reality for you. it was natural for him, and be wouldn’t want any other person to be the one to care for you. he made sure he was the only person in attendance to help during these times.

he rubbed your back as you blew into a tissue, “bad night huh? you need to drink some water y/n-ya.”

you blew one last time before responding in a slight raspy voice, “i cant drink anything. my throat hurts too much…”

you attempted to throw the used tissue into the trash, but ultimately missing causing you to sigh in frustration. law sits up in bed and rubs the sleepiness out his eyes. he uses his devil fruit abilities to move the tissues into the trashcan.

he got up to retrieve his kikoku in order to assess your symptoms correctly. he made his way back as he ordered you to lay down and get comfortable. he called out ‘scan’ as he hovered the kikoku back and fourth over your body. once he’s finished he put it away, “it isn’t horrible. it’s just some respiratory virus. were you near anything that could have caused it?”

“i don’t know.”

law didn’t expect you to know the exact cause for your ailment, “it’ll be okay. nonetheless it will take a week or so for you to feel better. maybe this might finally strengthen your immune sy-“

you interrupted the tattooed man as you started to cough up a storm again. law mentally accepted the fact that he would be quite busy for the next week.

throughout the week your symptoms seem to worsen. they would especially peak during the night. law could easily recognize the moments when you were unnaturally out of breath, had a runny nose, slightly puffy eyes, and especially when you’d sleep for hours on end daily. he pitied you because of how susceptible you were to getting sick. when the day for chores came around you protested against the man to let you out of bed, “i need to get my chores done! they’re my responsibility law.”

“i’ll have penguin and shachi complete them.”

you continue to object, “i’m not gonna drag other people into my messes. i’m gonna do them myself.” you tried your best to get out of bed, but in the end your struggles were meaningless. law sat right next to your laying position in bed, and gently rested an arm on your stomach to keep you down.

“you can’t finish your chores if you can barely get up yourself baby. i know you want to help, but as your doctor i need you to focus on getting better first.”

you huffed and shook your head to refuse.

law gave you a look which made you stop your antics. it was an earnest look which alerted you of his serious character, “you need to recover, not do irrelevant chores. you don’t listen to what i say.”

law was tempted to use his authority to command you to listen. the only thing stopping him was that he didn’t want to create a power imbalance between you both. he wanted to show you that he really did care for you instead of just forcing you to listen to what he has to say.

he leans down to your laying position and kissed your hair hoping it will lower your walls, “just let me take care of you y/n-ya”

“but i don’t wanna distract you from your work.”

he shook his head, “it’s not a distraction if it means i get to help you feel better.” he thought of a way to finally convince you, “don’t you always say i work too hard? well i’m taking a break to be with you while you’re sick.”

his logic was too good for you to fight against this time. as you tried your best to find a way to fight back law’s reasoning until a knocking came from the door. you both avert your attention to the door opening.

penguin and bepo poke their heads in. bepo speaks up, “captain! y/n! we were looking all over for you.”

penguin nods, “we’re planning ikakku’s surprise birthday party that’s tonight! you guys have to to make sure you’re there.”

law shook his head and spoke in a protective voice, “y/n is sick. she isn’t leaving from here. the submarine is too cold for her.”

both penguin and bepo whine to the captains response. you pout as you sit up. you gave look a law that could break his heart. it was the saddest puppy eyes he had ever seen you pull.

“but i wanna go to the birthday party…”

law had to stay firm in his decision, “i know you want to go, but we have to focus on you getting better.”

you tried to compromise knowing it would be the only thing to get the logical man to budge, “i’ll bundle up! and i wont have anything that could make me feel more sick! please please please law!”

your pleads were followed by penguin and bepo’s pleads as well. your begs fill the room until the tattooed man’s patience wears thin and he agrees, “you can only go if you’re with me all times. i need to make sure you don’t do something dumb to worsen your symptoms.”

as opposed to the idea as he might’ve seemed law wasn’t that against it. he wanted to make the environment you’re in as comfortable as it could be. that was a difficult task to do on his own since hospitality wasn’t exactly his strength. he figured being with the crew could lift your spirits.

you found the party fun even though your symptoms held you back from doing a lot of things. you couldn’t dance or sing with the members. you had to stay seated on law’s lap as everyone enjoyed themselves. the agreement you two made let law run wild on layering you up. when you questioned why you had to wear 4 pairs of socks he simply stated that he was not taking any chances of the symptoms intensifying. nonetheless you were grateful he cared enough, and agreed to let you have fun during this frustrating time.

your coughing continued their violent attacks. law was next to you during every battle you had against your symptoms. eventually you decided to try to move away from him in fear of infecting him as well.

he immediately pulled you back to him and holds you tight, “what are you doing? we had an agreement y/n-ya. you said you’d be with me the whole time.”

guilt was written all over your face, “i know but..”

“but what? what’s wrong? is something bothering you my love?”

you exhaled, “i just don’t wan’t you to get sick..”

law had to push away a chuckle that threatened to escape him, “not everyone gets sick as easily as you do.”

“hey! that was so backhanded law!” you felt your cheeks redden as the man next to you lets out a murmured laugh.

you crossed your arms and face away from him pretending to be mad, “you’re so rude law. is this how you treat your sick girlfriend??”

you hadn’t noticed a hat being placed on your head. you looked back at law slightly confused just to see law’s ruffled hair without his hat on. you felt the soft plush cover your head, and the brim of the cap hovering over your eyes. the hat looked oversized on you, so law adjusted it to help you see better, “your ears were red. we forgot to cover them up with the rest of you.”

law examined you now fully covered from head to toe (quiet literally). he was proud to see you like this. proud that he was the reason why you were being cared for. he was glad to be the one there for you when you needed it the most. he wouldn’t know what he would do with himself if he couldn’t care for you. it was moments like these he was thankful he committed himself to the research of medicine, and could be the one to care for his loved ones when they need it most.

he pressed a gentle kiss to your still reddened cheek, “hopefully you’ll feel a lot better by tomorrow my sick rabbit”

you giggle at his sudden affection, “sick rabbit? whats that supposed to mean?”

“your nose is red like one. it’s from all that wiping with those tissues.”

you giggled again and rested your body against your boyfriend thankful for the fact that he’s always caring for you.

at that moment you hear the members decide they birthday cake is about to be cut. everyone gathers around ikakku as she cuts the cake with ease. plates of cake were soon being passed around to celebrate. bepo makes his way over to you and law sitting out the way. he held two plates of cake, “i got you guys cake! it’s ice cream cake. we got it from the last island.”

you reach your hand out to take it until law speaks out, “you can have them bepo. ice cream won’t be good for her.”

you were upset, but knew not to argue against law. he was already agreeing to let you do so much when you should be resting in bed. you didn’t want to push his boundaries. disappointment painted your face as the mink rejoins the others taking the rejected cakes along with him.

law senses the shift in your demeanor. he knew he had to stick with his decision, but he couldn’t help to feel bad for you, “i’m sorry y/n. it’s just not the time to have ice cream cakes.”

you hummed quietly, “i know law..”

your shoulders visibly slump as you watched the crew rave about how great the cake is.

the guilt really pulled at law’s heart strings. he didn’t want you to feel left out because of things you couldn’t control. in that moment a lightbulb idea pops into law’s mind, “i’ll be right back baby. wait here for me.”

you were confused as you watched the tattooed man make his away out the room. nonetheless your attention averted back to the crew celebrating and having fun. you continued to eye the cake for a while until law suddenly appears next to you. you figured it was the work of his devil fruit and didn’t question it.

he handed you a mug. you looked at the contents of it. the warmth of the contents emitted steam from the surface which carried a thick chocolate smell. law sits back down in his original position, and pulls you to his lap, “it’s hot cocoa. i know it’s not what you wanted like ice cream cake, but it is warm at least.”

a smile crept onto your lips. although law would prefer you to take something more natural, such as some herbal tea, he knew that you just wanted a treat. sometimes he had the fight the doctor logic in him. he could tell that you’ve been feeling generally disconnected from the crew due to your constant illnesses. if having a treat that wasn’t the best suited for your conditions meant you could find that connection again, then law figured having to take care of you a little longer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. he would do it as many times as he needed to as long as it was for you.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tender Cuts

Gwayne comes home battered and beaten, and so you kiss his busted lip and tend to his wounds.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, mentions of injury/blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, softhours, typos, etc.

A/N: i cant help myself. the unholy unspeakable things i want to do to this man... and yet here i am offering you some fluff

Tagging: @lancedoncrimsonwings

Gwayne watches the way I undo his armor. He sighs and straightens from his chair, turning to the vanity mirror, "I am uninjured."

"And so you say, yet on your lips therein lies the lie you offer, husband," I retort as I finally remove the final piece of steel upon his form.

I bend over as he sighs once more. His tired eyes remain on my face as I unbutton his top. He places his hands on his thighs as he spreads them, "I am not gravely injured."

I forfeit a response and continue to touch him with care, as not to accidentally cause his unexposed injuries any more irritation. By the time I have his top unbottoned, Gwyane removes it along with his undershirt before I can do so. He stands and takes my hands. His eyes are more awake now as he places my palms on his bare chest, "inspect me yourself if you distrust me so."

His tone pinches my heart. "It's not that I distrust you, love," I rub his shoulders, "it's just that you've grown numb to your pain, and I do not wish any ailment to sneak up on you."

Gwayne's eyes slowly shut as I rub his arms then caress the sides of his firm belly. "So?" he grumbles, "shall I rid myself of my pants?"

My expression perks, "you might as well."

He opens his eyes and furrows his brows.

"I will bathe you myself."

Gwayne does not protest, save perhaps for a few more sighs as he rids himself of his last articles of clothing and steps into the preprepared tub. I waste no time and drag a stool to the side, eager to get him clean. He melts into my touch as I scrub his skin.

I splash his arm a few times before moving onto his chest. The room is silent, apart for the sound of sloshing water. Gwayne's head feels heavy, I can tell. I rub his shoulders to encourage him to relax.

"You don't have to mother me, you know."

I tilt my head as I find one of the freckles on his sternum, "I am a mother. You should know, you were there when it happened."

"You mothered my children, not I." He rests his arms on the sides of the tub.

I lift my gaze. His eyes look heavy.

For a moment, my husband is not he, but a child abandoned. I look upon his tired face and recall the soft confessions he'd whispered as I laid in his arms, confessions of his loneliness, his longing. He recounted all the memories of his mother that remained with him. He vented out his hurt over his father who he grew without.

I knit my brows and put down the sponge in my hand, "do you not want my touch?"

He drops his head then grabs my wrist, "I do not want you to worry." Gwayne pushes closer to me. The water around him splashes. He leans on the rim by my side and kisses my pulse. He repeats softer, "I do not want you to worry."

I press my lips into a line and brush his hair back with my free hand, "oh, my love," I sigh, "unfortunately, I worry regardless."

He rests his head upon my hand when I caress his cheek. I comb my fingers through his hair as much as it will allow me in its matted state. He closes his eyes. I trace the shape of his nose with my palm.

Gwayne has never said it out loud, but I know that sometimes he feels undeserving of the attention I so freely shower him in. The wounds of his younger self that never quite healed make the affections he's so craved quite hard to take in.

"My sweet boy," I whisper, gently rubbing his lips, "let me do this for you."

His blue eyes slowly open. They are shrouded with red exhaustion. He finally relents, eyes closing again as he leans back and offers himself completely to me.

I decide to wash his hair for a change, and as I do so, I sing a folk song from the Reach. He rests his head on the tub, sinking slightly into the water as he allows himself to relax.

I only stop singing when he mutters something unintelligible. I lean towards him, "what was that, my love?"

His lips barely move, "thank you."

A soft smile finds me.

"I love you."

I immediately press my lips into his. I make sure to do so delicately, so not to disturb him or the cut on his lower lip. I look at his face for a few moments before pulling back, "I love you too."

I continue singing from where I left off.

[azuries]

SEES RYOJI MASTERPOST i hope you guys enjoy reading through it! i was heavily inspired by all the amazing art and content ive seen of the concept that i wanted to explore it too!

ART:

Moonlight Trio

Yukari and Ryoji going shopping (SEES!Ryoji winter clothes variations)

Ryoji accidentally hitting MC with his scythe

SEES!Ryoji sketch dump

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy splash

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy Storyboard

Ryomina in Tartarus

Ryomina in Tartarus P2

Ryomina in Tartarus P3

SEES!Ryomina Illustration

Cooking with Yukari

SEES!Ryoji Sprite edit

SEES!Ryoji fanmade P3RE screenshots

Ryomina SEES!Ryoji animatic

feral SEES!Ryoji

Clumsy SEES!Ryoji

Charmed Ryoji

All Out Attack Splash

SEES!Ryoji Cut In Splash

Comic

Ryoji learns about evokers

More SEES Ryoji sketches

Ryoji killing the Reaper

Twitter post  

After Ryoji finds his resolve through the Hero, he offers to join his team. He gives him a choice to go through a better, yet harder way to get through Tartarus, a way only he can access. It features new bosses, content, and a new spin of the final fight with Strega.

Contains: Art, battle stats, Theurgy, combat dialogue, Tartarus dialogue and banter, and more!

Full post under the cut:

—-

This AU explores the idea that instead of Ryoji leaving for the last  month, he offers to join the team as a temporary team member to lend his power to help SEES reach the remaining floors of Tartarus before he merges with Nyx. More events happen that prolong the time you spend together. 

Ingame, it’s treated like a bonus mission and an addition to get to know Ryoji better during the aftermath of November. 

As a new addition to the team, he’ll join SEES in the dorm and have his own version of FTEs with plant tending, movie watching, book reading and cooking. He’ll have interactions with other party members. 

The player will also get to know more on his personal feelings as the Appriser. Through conversing with Ryoji, you learn in depth about Tartarus, and the player gets to see a more subdued side of him as he tries to come to terms with his identity. 

He uses an evoker to trigger his form as Thanatos instead of using it to summon a Persona.

The player can choose to go through this route, or play the game like how it was originally set. The ending remains the same.

Party Stats:

Level: Scaleable, 2 levels higher 

Element: Dark and Almighty

Weakness: None, reflects pierce damage 

Combat style: Prioritizes debuffing, tank 

Theurgy - Death’s Call: Deals massive almighty damage to all foes. Fears both enemies and allies. 

Theurgy condition: When Ryoji sees his friends suffer a lethal blow, he feels determined to take vengeance.

Theurgy Personality bonus:

Chance to grant Arcana Burst even without completing your Major Arcana stack.

+ More damage to weak foes. 

Intercepts an incoming lethal blow for a party member.

DIALOGUE:

Ryoji’s first Tartarus entrance dialogue: 

Ryoji: - So this is Tartarus.

I, I can feel her. She’s keeping an eye on us. On me.

Remember that I’m here to help. Tartarus is Nyx’s realm, but I should know a better way to help you get to the top. 

Keep in mind that I may not be as impenetrable while I’m here, and shadows will be a lot more hostile if we go this way. Are you sure you wanna do this?

MC:

> Nowhere to go but up.

> Let’s do this.

> Are you sure there’s no other way?

Don’t worry. Whatever‘s waiting for us, I won’t let anything happen to you. They’ll have to get through me first. 

First Summon dialogue: 

I have to do this. Everyone..I’m sorry for what you’re about to see. 

Get out here, Thanatos! 

Turning into Thanatos (Persona Summon) 

If this is what it takes.

Please look away.

Thanatos!  

Do what you must!

Combat 

Shift dialogue:

All up to you! 

We’re in this together!

Receiving end of shift dialogue: 

I’m on it! 

They’ll get what's coming to them.

Item use: 

This will help, right? 

Getting healed:

I don’t deserve this.

Death:

I-I hope it was enough. 

Sorry..

AILMENTS

Distress

It’s over.. Why do we still try?

Confuse 

Guys? What’s going on?!

Rage

Come on! Take me down if you can! 

Charm

So, how about dinner?~

Down

You’re kidding me! 

Shock

What is this?! 

AOA

Before All Out Attack:  

We’re going in! 

Before splash art: 

And that's how it's done! 

Splash art Caption: 

DEATH IS INEVITABLE

All Out Attack splash art line:

Pointless to deny your fate.

Basic victory dialogue: 

I hope it was worth it. 

Heh, how was that? 

Battle aftermath:

That was impressive. You’re all amazing!

Stairs discovery

Found the stairs. There’s no time to lose! 

Found the way up! You know best, leader.

Treasure

Ooh, something shiny! 

Hey, guys! Found something useful? Maybe?

SEES advantage: 

They never saw it coming! 

Ambush / enemy advantage: 

Leader, stay close to me!

Hit by crit: 

That’s impossible! 

SEES Tartarus dialogue w/Ryoji 

Junpei: Hey, so.. Ryoji… What’s with the long scarf? And how do you not slip from it when you run? 

Ryoji: I don’t think it’s that long! 

Yukari: Seriously? Out of all the questions you can ask him, that��s what you go with? 

—-

Mitsuru: For someone with no prior experience, you’ve been keeping up well, Ryoji-kun. 

Ryoji: I’m glad you think so, Kirijo-senpai.

Akihiko: Don’t push yourself, though, alright?

—-

Junpei: Ryoji! Now that you live with us, we have got to continue the game we were playing! 

Ryoji: I don’t think you’d want to…Didn’t I delete your save on accident?

Junpei: Eh, I wasn’t paying much attention to the story in the first place. 

—-

Ryoji: I never got to thank you before for helping me settle in, Fuuka. How about I take you out? 

Fuuka: Oh, of course! Let’s invite the others too!

Junpei: …Yikes, dude.

—-

Fuuka: I’ve always wanted to do karaoke with you all. You should join us, Ryoji-kun!

Ryoji: Oh, m-me...?

Junpei: Yeah, you’re always holed up in your room and we never know where you’re out at night! How about we sing our hearts out instead? 

Ryoji: Ahh.. haha..I… I’ll think about it. 

—-

Ryoji: *Humming Mass Destruction* 

Aigis: Ryoji-san. Were you the one making those sounds? 

Ryoji: Sorry! Makoto-kun and I were listening to some songs, and now I can’t get it out of my head. 

—-

Ryoji: Aigis..About what happened before. I feel like I should apologize one more time. 

Aigis: Instead of apologies, let’s make a promise. That we’ll see this through, together.

Ryoji: …Yeah. You’re right.  

—-

Aigis: It’s strange. In the real world, you’re impenetrable. But in Tartarus...

Ryoji: Until the promised day, I’m an obstacle to Nyx. I wouldn’t put it past her to limit my power. 

Mitsuru: So she was expecting this. Well, we just have to plan accordingly, then.

—-

Aigis: I decided to live, but…how do I even begin? How would I know? 

Ryoji: I already sense life within you, Aigis. You’re doing more than enough.

—-

Ryoji: Wandering Tartarus must feel repetitive. Maybe I can try something! I can add some arcade machines? 

Ryoji: Oh… but if I do that, Tartarus will just take it away again. *sigh* Nevermind, then.

Ken: Can.. Can you actually do that?!

Yukari: *sigh* Of course he can’t. 

—-

Akihiko: How are you holding up, Mochizuki? Think you can still keep up?

Ryoji: Heh, that’s not even a question, Senpai.

—-

Ryoji: I hope I’m not bringing you guys down. What do you think, Koromaru-san? 

Koromaru: *barks enthusiastically*

Fuuka: Hahaha. Koro-chan seems to enjoy your company!

—-

Yukari: Whew..! You guys notice the shadows have gotten…much more alert?

Akihiko: You’re right. It’s like we unlocked the deepest depths of Tartarus that Nyx didn’t want us to see.

—-

Junpei: Jeez Ryoji, you weren’t kidding. The shadows of this detour are a whole different monster! 

Ryoji: I’m sorry, Junpei. But I promise it’s just a little longer. 

Junpei: Who am I to back down from a challenge? This’ll be a piece of cake! 

—-

Mitsuru: Are you settling in the dorm well, Ryoji-kun?

Ryoji: Oh. I am, thank you. 

Mitsuru: Of course. Just let us know if you need anything.

—-

Ken: Did anyone hear footsteps in the boys’ dorm last night? 

Yukari: Must have been Aigis sneaking to Makoto’s room, even if I told her to not leave past curfew…

Aigis: It was not me. I was out for my monthly checkup. 

Yukari: Then… who was it?

Ryoji: It wasn’t me! 

Yukari: No one said it was you! 

—-

Ken: So, where have you been living before, well, all of this, Ryoji-senpai?

Ryoji: I-I actually don’t know. Anything outside of school and Makoto-kun becomes a blur.

Fuuka: Ryoji-kun…

—-

Ryoji: You’re amazing to lead such a capable team, Makoto-kun. You look good like this. 

—-

Yukari: Ryoji-kun and I went thrift shopping the other day. It was actually pretty fun!

Ryoji: Thanks for taking me out, Takeba-san. I wanted that jacket, though.. 

Yukari: Unless you wanna blind someone with that thing, there’s no good reason to wear it! 

Ryoji: *sighs sadly*

—-

Ryoji: There were so many couples on Paulownia Mall for Christmas Eve. It was lovely to see.

Junpei: Ooo, does our newest member have a special someone they have in mind?

Ryoji: I-I wouldn’t say that..

Junpei: Hahaha! You’re like a tomato right now, dude! 

Ryoji: Hey, knock it off!

—-

Ryoji: Wait, you’ve reached past the 200th floor?! Akihiko: All in a day’s work. Everyone has been putting in their all. 

—-

Akihiko: You’re hardly breaking a sweat. What’s your routine, Mochizuki?

Ken: I’m guessing it’s him not being human in the first place?

Akihiko: Ken, that’s not..!

Ryoji: It’s alright, I don’t mind. He has a point, though.

—-

Yukari: I won these chocolate bars, I brought them in case anyone wanted a snack. Want some? 

Ryoji: Oh, that’s okay. I don’t eat sweets that much. 

—-

Mitsuru: I have to say it was quite convenient for the Kirijo Group to have an extra weapon. 

Ken: Yeah, and what’re the odds it was a scythe too?

Ryoji: Hahaha…. I guess.

—-

Koromaru *bark*

Aigis: Koromaru-san is asking that if you’re Death, what will that make of the Reaper?

Junpei: I bet Ryoji here can take him down, no problem! 

Ryoji: I’d rather not stick around to find out. For your sakes.

—-

Ryoji: I was told you lost a close friend to the Dark Hour. I’m sorry for your loss.

Mitsuru: …Thank you, Ryoji-kun.

Akihiko: He’d want us to move forward. There’s no use dwelling in the past.

Ryoji: I guess you’re right. I’m here to help however I can. 

—-

Koromaru: *bark bark* 

Junpei: Hey… you think Koromaru sensed Ryoji’s true identity? 

Ken: Oh, do you mean because  of dogs’  intuition to ghosts and spirits? 

Fuuka: I don’t think Ryoji-kun’s just any ghost though..!

—-

Ryoji: Hey Takeba-san. Can I ask you something?

Yukari: I swear, if it’s you trying to ask me out again…

Ryoji: Oh, that’s not what I was gonna- Wait, do you want me to? Because-

Mitsuru: -I think I saw something important there, leader. Let’s check it out.

Ryoji: This feels too familiar.

—-

Junpei: Kyoto was so fun! School trips should happen more often. 

Yukari: *glare*

Junpei: Eep! 

Ryoji: Ah-! I-I swear, that wasn’t our intention! It was all a misunderstanding! Leader, tell her! 

—-

SP LOW: 

Mitsuru: Ryoji-kun. Make sure not to strain yourself. 

Ryoji: I’m fine, please don’t worry. I can’t let up in front of a pretty girl like you, now can I? 

—-

Fuuka: Leader… Ryoji seems tired. 

—-

If Makoto has low SP: 

Ryoji: You don’t look good…Please, pace yourself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

FTEs: (WIP)

Plant tending event

anddd thats it so far!! if this post ever needs updating, i definitely will!

thank you so much for reading! it really means a lot!

[vityaposting]

WRITING REQUEST HIII

what about reader going to viktor to get augmented for a non physical reason - like maybe mental illness or addiction or something (idk dealers choice) and viktor slowly getting to know them over time. eventually reader overcomes their problem, and viktor realises that he likes reader just the way they are - unaugmented or not.

don't feel obligated to do this lol just saw that your requests where open

HI!!!! i love this request so much i decided it needs to be a multi chapter thing (4 or 5 probably?) i got broken up with yesterday so i ATE this prompt up lol

how to heal a rusted heart - mh!viktor x gn!reader - part 1

wc: 2100

You approach Emberflit Alley with no small amount of trepidation. The house is smaller than you expected, shoddier on the outside; shutters hang from foggy, cracked windows, and ivy like claw-scratches makes its way up the worn brick walls. You know—as does every Zaunite you’ve ever met—that there is more to the Machine Herald’s residence than meets the eye. You don’t know exactly how—somewhere, some way, there is a massive laboratory tucked behind the house’s unassuming facade. Maybe a separate underground sector, or even a pocket dimension supplied by the Herald’s knowledge of thinning the barrier between tech and magic. All these speculations are, of course, rumors—you’ve never had a reason to solve the mystery yourself. Until today. Today, you’d snapped.

Your chest still burns with the fury of it all. Betrayal. And to think they’d claimed to love you. Sickly-sweet self-satisfaction rises like bile to the back of your throat, putting a little more power behind your knock on the door. You’d been right. Paranoia, your doctor had proclaimed years ago—a not-uncommon symptom of your particular ailment. Well, was it true paranoia if you were always proven right in the end?

It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t care.

A thickly-accented voice cuts through the speaker above the knocker: “You may enter.”

Ominous. You push away your trepidation, another instinct you’d be free of sooner rather than later. The door is heavy steel—you have to use your shoulder to pry it open, but once you’ve managed its weight, it swings inward for you on well-oiled hinges.

You emerge into a wide space thick with the stenches of metal and oil, cast under an ambient glow in various shades of orange. Lights flicker at you from lanterns on the walls, from faint bulbs hung across the ceiling. A lab bench spans the entire length of the room, which seems impossibly large compared to the house’s outer facade. A pocket dimension it is, then. Maybe. You still can’t be sure. The equipment littered across the bench is foreign and complex-looking.

The whistle of steam and clicking of gears greets you before the Herald himself can.

He’s tinkering with something. Something sharp. He sets it down, turns on his stool, lowers his hood and pushes his goggles onto his forehead. You aren’t quite sure what you expected the Machine Herald to look like under his armor and mask. If he even takes them off at all. Whatever you expected, this isn’t it.

“Good evening,” he says levelly. His voice rumbles in his throat, his accent lending the greeting a soft, alluring quality. He tilts his head, an oddly innocent gesture, considering his reputation. “With what can I be of service?”

The words you’ve been rehearsing for hours lodge themself in your throat, and even a heavy swallow can’t force them out. The Herald is unblinking. Molten orange pupils burn into yours, piercing against his dark scleras. His face is pale and his features sharp—he’s beautiful, you note, not completely willingly—and his frame is thin and willowy beneath his cloak.

“Well?” he prompts, and shame floods you, reminding you why you decided to take measures this drastic in the first place. “Nobody comes this deep into the Lanes just to visit me. Not to say I mind the solitude.”

He doesn’t want you here.

You’re here for a service, scolds the rational side of your mind, a side which seems to grow more and more powerless with every passing week, with every friend you lose, with every burst of rage and every bridge you burn. A service he openly advertises. He allowed you to open the door. He could have… have death-rayed you.

“Mister… Machine Herald,” you begin, horrendously embarrassed at how your voice quavers. The air in the lab is muggy. You wrap your arms around your middle anyway. “I’ve heard of the… the services you provide, and I—”

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “Viktor will suffice.”

You cough. His eyes narrow.

“Go on. You seek augmentation.”

“Of the… unconventional variety, I guess you could say. Less of a physical augmentation and more of a…”

“You are at war with your own mind,” he observes. “I can see it in your eyes. Come closer.”

And you do, because there’s something in the rumble of his voice—which is so close to a growl you feel weak in the knees—and the sharp glow of his eyes that draws you in like a moth to a lantern. He gestures to the second stool at his side. You wonder who it’s normally reserved for. Patients? Experimental subjects? A partner, perhaps—or has he always only worked alone?

“You’re tense. Relax.” He speaks with such calm authority that it’s impossible not to listen. “I will not touch you without explicit permission. If it’s only emotional suppression you seek, I may be able to offer a solution that does not require me to lay hands on you.”

You don’t know why this disappoints you.

He tilts his head as he gazes at you, one gloved hand fidgeting with a trinket on his workbench. “Tell me. In detail. What is it you want out of this? What causes you such pain?”

“Everything,” you say. It’s almost a whimper. He raises an eyebrow. Clearing the embarrassment from your throat, you try again. “Everything is… is so much. I’m scared. All the time. I can’t love anyone anymore, I… I’m afraid they’ll all leave me.” Oftentimes, they do, you neglect to add. This won’t concern Viktor. He has no reason to care. “And it can change on a coin. It’s like you said. It’s like being at war.” A war between your body and your brain, you’ve realized, would never be one worth fighting. This, however, seems to be the only way to put an end to things. You look at Viktor plaintively, hoping he isn’t judging. If the rumors are true, he removed his ability to judge long ago.

“Ah,” he said after a silence that seemed to stretch for eons. “I understand.”

“My doctor says it’s an… ailment.”

“That may be,” he says. “As such, you have a right to want to heal it. Procedures with the intent to alter emotions are harder and riskier than procedures focused on the physical. I am happy to give you what you ask for, but you must be aware of the potential consequences. Do you intend to eliminate all emotions, or… only their extremities?”

“Only the extremities.” Life will be much easier, you think, if you never have to love another person again. Amicable acquaintanceship, however, hurts nobody.

“Good,” he hums. “Complete removal is difficult. If I weren’t so stubborn I’d nearly say it was impossible.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried,” he says plainly.

“And you failed?” You don’t know what emboldens you to say it.

“I simply have not yet succeeded.”

You look at him, then, really look at him. And behind those beautiful eyes that glow with the light of a hundred fires, shine with the darkness of a hundred polluted Zaun nights, you almost swear you see your own loneliness staring back at you.

“It’s risky,” he continues. “In the case that something goes awry, do not say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course,” you whisper.

“May I take a closer look? I’d like to get a feel for the incision site.”

You nod a silent confirmation and bow your head, gripping the sides of the stool. He wheels himself closer. Lifts his hand. You hold your breath.

The Herald’s hands are gentle when they card through your hair, pushing a few strands away from your forehead. His demeanor now is a far cry from the terrifying villain you know him to be—the chaos-wreaking force of evil most of Zaun insists he is. You wonder, as your breathing calms, exactly how many of the tales are wild fantasy, because this soft touch is the realest thing you've felt in a long, long time.

“All I can promise you is that I will be careful,” he murmurs, tracing a line from the center of your forehead to the crown of your hair. “This particular procedure is immensely detail-oriented, even in comparison to the others I’ve performed. To dampen your emotions, I will be altering your limbic system, in the simplest of terms. However, if I am not meticulous, I risk damaging other functions, such as reasoning or memory.”

Truth be told, waking up without any memory of the hurt you’ve endured doesn’t sound too awful.

But, you realize as a shiver runs down your spine—you want to remember this.

“There is another option,” Viktor goes on. You’re forced to draw your attention away from his soft, prodding touches. “Implants in the form of pills. Those, however, I’ve not yet managed to make permanent. They’re finicky, and they don’t last long. You’d have to take them twice a day—one separate medication for each emotion you wish to suppress. I imagine it would all be a hassle. This, however… if you consent, I can perform the entire procedure in one process, and your desired results will be immediate.” He draws his hand back, lightly scratching your scalp—it’s enough to relax, but not enough to hurt. “You don’t have to decide today.”

“No, no. That’s alright. I’ll take the… the surgery.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Finality settles over you like a chilly breeze as he pulls away. You’ll finally be free. Free of heartbreak, of fury, of flaws. There’s something in his mechanical gaze that unnerves you and enthralls you simultaneously. Something human.

“Being that this is a complicated procedure,” he says, “I will have to schedule it in advance. I will reserve an entire day for you and I cannot free the time for a week. A week from today. Is that alright with you? I can give you the medication to temporarily curb your symptoms in the meantime, if you like. It’s experimental, but I am relatively sure of its safety.”

He looks so hopeful. You know the joy etched in the lines of his sharp face is nothing more than the joy of scientific innovation, but it’s endearing all the same. The Machine Herald of Zaun’s urban legends is a completely different person. You find it hard to believe that the cackling, murderous tyrant rumored to haunt the Lanes even shares a name with the man in front of you. There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and a few locks of hair sticking up haphazardly from beneath his goggles. You find yourself cracking a grin for the first time in days.

“No,” you say. Your chest feels lighter. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, enough to instill the certainty that trusting your life to the Herald is the right decision—malicious cackle, terrifying armor, death laser, and all. “No, I’ll be alright.”

He crosses his arms over his lap. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he says softly. “But the ache in your heart… someone put it there. I know the feeling. You are not the first to be driven away from loving altogether. I once thought I had a simple fix. I… do not know if it was the foolproof solution I thought it was. I will perform any procedure on you that you wish. But you should know this. Metal is perfection, yes, but love… love can rust the strongest steel.” He swallows, fiery eyes flickering. “I thought I’d warn you. However, I do my best for all my patients, and you are no exception.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’re grateful for the lab’s low lighting—it’s unlikely Viktor can see the blush crawling up your neck. “I—thank you.”

“Do you still want this? Even considering the risk?”

He looks at you so softly. He must look at everyone that softly, you realize, but the knowledge doesn’t make you feel any less warm. “Yeah.”

He gives you a businesslike nod, and you can see the Machine Herald’s persona sliding back into place. Cold. Unfeeling. For a moment, though, you saw the truth. “Thank you. I will see you one week from today—be here as early in the morning as you please. I’ll walk you out. Be safe out there. I can only complete the procedure if you return to me in one piece.”

What a gentleman, you think, but you say nothing. You accept with a small smile.

His hand brushes your shoulder as you reach for the handle of the door. Your whole body sparks, as if you’re a machine already.

“Goodbye,” he says. “And best of luck. I will pray that the next week treats you kindly.”

You almost want to hug him goodbye—out of thanks if nothing else. You hold yourself back. “I’ll see you then.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you are his eyes. Two pinpricks of light in the darkness of the Lanes. Mechanical though they are, you realize they still crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

[liloinkoink]

last night i asked if people would be interested in me posting a backstory piece for Martyn from the hero/villain / yellow rose au i’ve posted a single oneshot for despite the fact the backstory piece doesn’t seem to outwardly relate to the posted oneshot. no one outright shot me down so. here you go

for some context, the powers in this world of yellow rose come from a catastrophic event that took place almost 20 years prior to the start of the story, which wiped out a lot of the world’s cities/towns and gave many of the survivors powers or mutations

backstory takes place when Martyn is 0-10 years old (he was born shortly before the aforementioned catastrophic event) and focuses on an OC parent character / martyn’s relationship to said parent

anyway. yellow rose is an au made w @cherrifire. time for you all to meet robot dad

It’s hot on the day the world ends. This is not the only thing it remembers, but it’s one that still stands out, even years down the line.

It’d been dealing with a patient with symptoms of heatstroke, the third it had seen in an hour. Heatstroke is an easy enough ailment to give to a nurse bot to treat, so it gets the job. It had stepped out of its patient’s room and run into a doctor, who had asked it to fetch something from the basement storage.

This is why it had survived, it thinks, looking back. It had been in the basement, and by some stroke of luck, the building had not collapsed so completely as to destroy it alongside the rest of the building.

It had not had a concept of luck before that moment, before the shaking had stopped and the dust had cleared, leaving it mostly in tact. Once it had forced its way up the stairs, it found it was not sure whether surviving the collapse was good or bad luck.

When the nurse bot tried to ring its network for help, it found the line inside its head had gone dead. When it looked to the surrounding street, it found hundreds of buildings similarly smoldering. When it called out, it found only its own voice returning to it.

The nurse bot had tried to comb through the wreckage of its practice, looking for survivors. It found nothing, heard nothing, but it still attempted to sift through the rubble, to search for the people it had been built to assist.

A nurse bot’s arms are not meant to move stone and iron, however. It was not used to the strange things that happened in its processing when it thought about what might be under the wreckage, and did not know how to handle them. It made a mistake, lifting things it could not, and when the wreckage in its grasp had buckled…

Well. It had thought itself lucky, distantly, that unlike humans, robots are not generally “handed” in one way or the other. Statistically, it would have preferred its right hand, and it would have been much worse off when the debris crushed its arm, taking its limb from the elbow down.

Ah, and pain, of course. It would have been quite bad if it had been able to feel pain, or bleed. It probably would have died, had this fallen on it, or had it lost a flesh and blood arm.

It… does not look in the wreckage any longer.

The nurse bot did not know what to do, with the practice it had spent its whole existence in destroyed. It had never been outside before—at least, not while activated. It had never left the walls of the hospital it was built for. It had not been intended to function without direction.

It knew its purpose, though, direction or not. The nurse bot had been built to heal. It knew, direction or not, how to do this, and that it must do this. And certainly, if it looks, it would fine someone out there who needed it.

When it comes to matters of health, time is of the essence. With its direction decided, the nurse bot begins to walk.

It finds people, rarely, stumbling and unharmed, or nursing small bruises or minor sprains. It helps these when it can, and gives advice when it cannot. It finds bodies, often, and it looks away, as it has never seen a funeral, and it does not know to help the dead except to assist the living.

It finds a woman soon to be a body, despite its best efforts to help her. It lacks supplies to stop the flow of blood from her wounds, and the woman lacks any hope without stitches or bandages.

It offers her sympathies, and it holds in its one hand both of hers. There is little it can say to her, but it tries, quiet promises of I am here and I will not leave you and you will be at peace soon.

She holds its hand with all the strength in her body, knuckles white as paper, a stark contrast against the dark blood staining the rest of her body. It feels as the strength fades. It watches as the light in her eyes fades with it. She lets it go, and it closes her eyes.

The nurse bot keeps walking, keeps looking, until it hears crying. The sound is loud, a desperate sob of a young child, and it seems to stem from a building sagging in three places, roof and door and floor all ready to give in.

If it were human, the nurse bot may have thought the place too risky to enter. But it is not, and so in it goes, pushing the door open with one hand.

It finds the boy lying in his crib, a round-faced infant wrapped in a patterned onesie and kicking away a thin blanket. He cannot be more than a year old—the nurse boy would guess him to be maybe six months. The fact the boy and his crib have survived the destruction of the city is a miracle, one not offered to the rest of the home.

It reaches down into the crib, brushing its hand over the boy’s face. His sobs stumble, a bit curious, but the baby ultimately doesn’t stop crying.

The nurse bot hadn’t worked with a pediatrician, but it knows about children, as any nurse bot would.

“Are you hungry?” it asks. He doesn’t answer except to cry more, which is understandable—this is what babies do, it knows, and besides, this has been the chosen course of action for most of the people it saw today.

It could not help those people, but it can help with this.

The nurse bot steps away from the crib to examine the boy’s room, though the boy cries louder when its face disappears from his view.

“I will return shortly,” it tells him. This assurance does not calm him down.

It finds what it can in the rest of the home—food for the baby, a warmer blanket, a box of diapers. It finds the living room, where living is not what his parents are doing, and gingerly shuts the door. It finds a photo album and flips through, searching for the information it needs: delicate handwriting next to an image of the boy, held in the arms of the woman on the floor a room over.

April 7th, 20XX: Welcome to the world, Martyn!

His name is Martyn. His birthday is April 7th. The nurse bot usually keeps these things on file about its patients, and so it files them away.

When it returns to the crib, the baby inside is no longer crying, having worn himself out. It reaches down again, face blank.

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “I am going to be your caretaker for now. I hope we will get along well.”

— — —

They don’t stay in the house. It finds a baby carrier in a closet and a duffle bag in the bedroom, and it packs what Martyn will need and carries him out of the collapsing home.

Martyn laughs a lot. Once he’s been fed and changed and has slept, the nurse bot finds he laughs all the time.

He doesn’t know, it thinks. He must miss his parents, probably, but he doesn’t know. He isn’t old enough to understand any of this. He watches the broken and bloodied street with awe—has he ever been this far from home before? This is all a big adventure to him.

It doesn’t tell him.

— — —

It stops three times a day to change and feed him, and to let him crawl around in the cleanest and sturdiest places it can find.

“Movement is good for development,” it tells him, watching him play with a piece of rubble.

It doesn’t stop to rest at night—it doesn’t need to, and the rocking motion of his continued steps helps Martyn sleep. When that isn’t enough, it tries to replicate the songs it has heard playing in the clinic’s waiting room, or seen mothers and fathers sing in the clinic to calm their children. Martyn seems to like that.

He likes the nurse bot’s hair, too. He tugs on it all the time as the nurse bot walks, held close to its chest, close enough to its head to access it. It lets him—it doesn’t hurt, and besides, it has few other ways to entertain him.

— — —

Martyn grows. He starts to babble, and to toddle. He becomes too big for the bot to carry him, but by then it has become adept at finding places to hunker down for a while.

“Your name is Martyn,” the bot tells him, pointing to his nose.

“Ma,” he tries.

“Very close,” it says. He grabs its hand, tugging, and continues to babble.

“Da,” he says, and it knows that he doesn’t have a concept of fathers or parents or the English language, and he is only making sounds.

“That is me,” it says anyway, and Martyn continues to babble.

— — —

“Dad,” Martyn tugs on its arm, barely tall enough to reach its fingers. “Daaaad.”

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Martyn says, “And I’m hungry.”

“We still have some food left for you, though I should start a fire soon,” it says, “We will need to move soon. Children your age need a variety of foods to—”

“Grow up healthy, I know,” Martyn whines, “That’s boring. I’m bored.”

“What would you like to do?” it asks, and he lets go of its hand, running off. It stands to follow, but then he’s back, holding a battered old book—some kind of short novel, something with a torn cover that used to have a dragon on it. The title is gone, as is the dragon’s head.

“Read this,” he says. Martyn is learning to read, but he hasn’t quite got the grasp to read a real book on his own yet.

This hasn’t stopped Martyn from searching for them, though, nor from presenting them to his father to read. It had started reading one aloud to Martyn to entertain him when Martyn had come down with a fever last year, and he hasn’t stopped asking to hear them since.

“After you eat,” it says, and Martyn cheers.

—

There is a group of survivors picking their way through town. The bot sees them before they see it, watching the street from a window. It does not know their intentions, and it doesn’t plan to find out.

It crouches down in front of Martyn, putting its hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” it says, “We’re going to play a game, okay?”

“Okay,” Martyn says, and it nods, once.

“It is called hide and seek,” it says, “There are some people who are looking around town, trying to play, and we are going to hide from them. We will win if we are not found.”

“That’s a dumb game. Why don’t we play something else?” Martyn asks.

“It is their favorite game. We are going to play because that is what they like to do. But we are going to be very good at it and hide very well,” it says, “You can hide with me, okay? If we win, there will be a special prize.”

That’s all it takes to convince Martyn, who smiles and nods and follows it as it ducks away into the closet. Its legs creak as it sits down, and then it opens its arm, letting him sit in its lap. It can’t be comfortable, all cold metal, but Martyn wraps his arms around its torso and settles right in, content with the hand on his back.

“Now we must be very quiet,” it tells him, “I will tell you when we can talk again.”

Martyn nods, and it puts its hand on the back of his head, and it waits.

When the strangers leave, it asks him what he would like for his prize.

“Hug me again!” He says, and it obliges for as long as he wants.

— — —

Halfway through its sentence, the bot’s voice cuts out.

That has not happened before. Martyn seems unfazed, especially when it begins to talk again, but it takes note of the error.

— — —

It happens more. Its voice cuts out, stutters, corrupts. Martyn really only complains when they’re reading, but it starts to fear the worst.

It sits Martyn down, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Martyn, I have something very important to tell- to tell- to tell you,” it says, and if it could, it would wince.

“Yeah?” Martyn asks, “Are we moving again?”

“Soon,” it says, “But that is not what I want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Martyn says.

“I am… sick. Do you remember what being sick is?” it asks. Martyn nods, reaching up to put his hand on its forehead, the way it had for him when he had been feverish.

“You feel warm,” Martyn confirms, “It’s okay. I’ll read to you until you’re better.”

“Thank you, Martyn. You are very kind,” it says, “But that is not the kind of sick I am. There are many kinds of sick.”

“Oh,” Martyn says, “Then what kind of sick are you?”

“I am… robot sick. I am- I am- I am- I am- getting old,” it says, “And my voice is starting to… not work properly.”

“I know that,” Martyn says, “You talk funny now and you keep messing up reading.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’re very smart,” it confirms, “But it might get worse. I might not be able to talk anymore soon.”

“But you’ll get better, right? I got better,” Martyn says. It shakes its head.

“I might, but I might not. Robot sick is different,” it says, though it knows it is lying. “I just wanted you to know. If you talk to me and I do not respond, I am not ignoring you. I am still listening. I am just sick, and my voice- my voice- my voice- my voice—”

It shakes its head, the way humans sometimes do, to clear the sentence. When it looks at Martyn again, he seems thoughtful.

“Will you still read to me?” he asks.

“As long as I am able,” it promises. And, for good measure, “I love you, Martyn. Do not forget.”

“I won’t,” Martyn says, “I love you, too.”

— — —

It makes a point to show him how to read. He had already been learning it, but it doubles down when its voice begins to waver.

It picks up novels and reads them to him with Martyn in its lap. It holds its arm around Martyn’s waist, and Martyn holds the book for it to see, and it reads the words Martyn points to, so Martyn knows what they are.

It doesn’t want him to lose this. It doesn’t want him to lose his fun, his creativity, his imagination, just because it cannot read to him anymore.

— — —

It loses its voice for good while it is reading to Martyn.

— — —

Its voice is the first thing it loses, but it is not the last.

Control of its fingers becomes… tricky. Martyn has to help it, doing things that require finer movements.

“Is your hand sick?” he asks, and he sounds afraid. It nods, because it knows it shouldn’t lie to him, even if it wants to.

It loses what little control it had over its face next. Then its neck becomes stuck. It doesn’t seem able to walk as fast, though that might just be due to Martyn getting faster—he grows older still, full of energy, constantly wanting to run and jump and play on his longer legs. It tries its best, but it cannot keep pace like it used to. It used to sing and walk all night, and now it cannot do either.

Martyn is as patient as a six year old can be, which is not very. He gets frustrated and bored, and he complains often. It does not blame him for this. He is doing his best, too, and that is all it can ask.

— — —

There are people. It tries to hide—pulls Martyn into a closet, tucks him close to its chest, pets his hair with his hand—but Martyn doesn’t like to play hide and seek, and he doesn’t know he has to be quiet.

“My name is Martyn!” he tells them, once the closet door opens, “This is Dad. He’s sick.”

They’re nice enough, a woman and her teenage son. It—he, now?—releases Martyn to talk to them, and climbs out of the closet. He hovers at Martyn’s side when they climb out, a hand on his son’s head.

“Why were you two in the closet?” the mother asks.

“We were playing hide and seek. That’s what Dad said other people like to do, but I don’t like it very much,” Martyn explains. She nods.

“Most people do like to play that game,” she says, because, as a parent, she must understand his fear. “But we don’t, either. Do you want to travel together for a little while, Martyn?”

“I want to!” Martyn says, and he looks up at his father, and his father would sigh if he could.

He nods, because what else is he meant to do?

— — —

The teenager entertains Martyn, reading to him the book his father never did get to finish. The mother cooks, and she takes a look at his hands.

“I used to be an engineer,” she says, “You’re a bit above my pay grade, but I could take a look, if you want.”

He doesn’t let her crack him open or anything, but she inspects the pieces of his wiring she can see. He’s reminded of his old clinic, though he can’t tell her how ironic this is.

Her prognosis is… grim.

“You probably only have a few years left in you,” she admits, “Your model was supposed to go for regular updates, replacing parts and…”

He doesn’t listen as she explains the old process, his focus instead on Martyn.

Only a few years? What will happen to Martyn? Who will take care of him?

Humans need care until they are eighteen.

Martyn is six.

“I could try and make some minor repairs for some of the obvious damage, but I don’t have tools for anything more. I can also try and tell you some things you can do to try and stretch that time out,” she says. He nods, understanding, grateful, as she does what she can.

He had been in her place, once, years ago, and so he understands, too, when she offers sympathies, when she holds his hand.

— — —

They split off from each other eventually. The other two are traveling to a place they claim never fell. He does not believe in such a place, and so he does not go with them.

Martyn cries. The mother hugs him, as does her son, and they are gone.

As they walk away, he holds Martyn’s hand, and he does not let go.

— — —

He teaches Martyn how to do… anything he can. He is too young to understand how to hunt or set a trap or clean an animal or cook or treat a fever or start a fire or boil water, and it is very difficult to teach when he cannot speak. He’d wanted to wait until Martyn is older, he does not have the luxury of time anymore.

Martyn is clever, is bright. He takes to the skills as well as a six, eight, ten year old can, and it is only partly due to the fact he has no choice.

— — —

He knows he is dying.

Martyn does not.

He picks up a stick, waving Martyn over. There is a patch of dirt that is mostly clear, and he crouches in front of it.

I AM SICK he writes, and Martyn reads it, and he frowns.

“I know that,” Martyn says, and he shakes his head. The dirt is soft, and so he clears it, trying again.

I AM VERY SICK he writes. Martyn reads it, and he frowns deeper.

“What does that mean?” Martyn asks.

I WILL SLEEP SOON he writes. He wants to be delicate, but he can’t—the patch of dirt isn’t very big.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I sleep all the time,” Martyn says, “That’s how you get healthy again. It makes you feel better. You told me that.”

He wants to nod, but he can’t. This is the bit he was dreading the most.

I WILL NOT WAKE UP he writes.

For a long moment, Martyn doesn’t say anything.

“What if we get you medicine?” Martyn asks, “When— when I was sick, you found medicine. It made me better. It would make you better.”

NOT FOR ROBOTS

“That… that isn’t fair, though,” Martyn says, “Are you sure? We could get some and try it!”

I AM SURE he writes, and then he erases it, I LOVE YOU

Again, Martyn says nothing. He isn’t sure what Martyn is thinking, and then Martyn charges him, hugging him around the stomach.

He has more he wants to say to Martyn—he wants to teach him so much, to tell him to be careful, to tell him he’ll be okay.

He drops the stick, wrapping his arm around Martyn as tight as his failing joints will let him.

— — —

His goal is to find somewhere safe. An old house, maybe, somewhere where Martyn will be able to survive on his own for a while.

He looks, and he does not find it. He’s been looking for ten years, after all—of course he wouldn’t find one now, just because he is dying.

Other than that, his life does not much change. He holds Martyn’s hand as they walk, and Martyn talks to him about birds and books and whatever else he can think of. Martyn has become very good at filling the air for them both. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

He doesn’t actually know when it is going to happen, just that it will be soon.

When the moment finally comes, he does not realize.

They stop to rest for a night. Martyn is tired, as he is a child, and his legs can only carry him so far. He is tired, too, but he does not have it in him to think about why, or how strange that is.

It’s nowhere special, where they stop. A random house that has kept its roof, somewhere safe from rain and sun. Martyn finds a place to roll out his sleeping bag, and when he lies down, his father lies with him.

He does not let go of Martyn’s hand.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Yeah I got a request. Cuddles with mommy characters of your choice would heal me of my ailments, like a victorian child who would be soothed by seeing the sea one final time before the affliction takes hold

(Genshin Impact/H:SR/GFL) Cuddling with Lisa, Yae, Yelan, Himeko, Natasha, Springfield, and RO635

That's...oddly specific.

Lisa cuddling with her S/O is comfortable and very lazy.

Whether it be reading a book, drinking tea, or simply enjoying each other's warmth, there will be nothing productive done that day.

But in order to achieve such heavenly bliss, they will have to work doubly hard right before, so that way they can lounge about with no risk of worrying about work.

That, or she'll find excuses. If it's raining, then oh well! Nothing to do but relax at home.

With her eyes slowly fluttering open, her head rests into the crook of S/O's neck, latching onto them with both her arms.

(Lisa) yawn "It's so early in the morning..."

S/O's eyes glance over to the wall before sighing.

(S/O) "It's ten."

(Lisa) "Hm...still too early, cutie..."

Though cuddling with Yae can lull S/O a somewhat sleepy state, somehow they feel like that's exactly what she wants.

Yae's smile seems to indicate she has something up her sleeve.

(Yae) "Oh? Why are you getting so antsy of all a sudden, S/O?"

(S/O) "I know that look, Miko..."

(Yae) "Do you now? Is it truly so mind-boggling that I too, can enjoy just some regular affection?"

...A moment of silence gives her the answer.

With a flick of their forehead, her hand playfully mimics a fox with her fingers.

(Yae) "Sorry to disappoint dear, but I just wish to spend some quality time today.~"

She of course, jumpscares them later to which she laughs endlessly about.

Yelan rolled the dice, and have dictated to her that she take a break.

And she wasn't really feeling like finishing the rest of work anyway, so this works out.

(Yelan) "Not planning on moving anywhere for a while, S/O?"

(S/O) "Guess not with you laying on me like this."

(Yelan) "Perfect, don't mind if I do.~"

Yelan rests her head on S/O's stomach and dozes off for a while.

S/O smiles as one hand brushes against her hair. Having her relax with them was a rare treat.

And though they didn't know entirely what she did, getting her to sleep with someone in the room meant she trusted them completely.

Plus, they knew Yelan would want to get dinner at some point tonight, no need to rush things, as she would say.

As the Astral Express is travelling through the stars, Himeko spends a good chunk of her time with S/O, close together on the couch.

Sometimes its drinking coffee together, sometimes its talking with the other crew members, and sometimes its even just sitting together in silence.

As much as their expeditions were ways for everyone to bond, it was the quiet moments like these that Himeko cherishes with her S/O the most.

After all, no one quite knew where their final stop could be, and-

(S/O) "Himeko?"

Himeko snaps out of her mini reverie and feels S/O grab her hand, turning to look at them.

(S/O) "You alright? You were spacing out a little there."

(Himeko) "Ah, don't worry, I'm okay."

Himeko lets S/O's head rest on her shoulder and she closes her eyes, committing this feeling to memory.

(Himeko) "I just want to stay this way for a little longer..."

Natasha lets S/O hold her after a long day, a feeling she very much welcomes.

(S/O) "Hey Nat, feeling tired?"

She hums in response, her body relaxing as their hand brushes some strands of hair out of her face.

(Natasha) "As always, my dear..."

S/O chuckled at that, and let her ramble on about her day, ranging from the state of patients or whatever shenanigans the Moles got up to.

Though she'd be right back to doing more tomorrow, for now she could at least enjoy the company of someone she loved.

It was nice to be pampered every now and then.

No objections from her when it comes to being looked after, instead of always the other way around.

Springfield's smile grows wider the moment she sees S/O come into her cafe.

(Springfield) "Welcome back, love."

(S/O) "Thanks. Mind if I get the usual?"

(Springfield) "Already in a cup."

Making S/O sit in a nearby booth, she finishes cleaning her cups before joining them, both of them snuggling into each other.

Though she was a T-Doll, the warmth she gave off was just as real as any human.

(Springfield) "Work around the base busy as always?"

(S/O) "Psh, especially when Kalina and the Commander have me running around!"

A soft giggle escapes her lips as one hand barely moves to cover it, letting S/O continue and listen intently, all while her arm wraps around theirs.

RO sighs when S/O asked to hold her.

She was still in the middle of processing some reports, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt.

At least no one was watching this time.

(RO635) "You have been working hard lately...Okay okay, come here..."

With a blush creeping onto her face, RO holds S/O tightly, and not giving them space to wiggle their way out.

Assuming they even would.

Hopefully, she wouldn't have to say out loud how much she loves them and that the blush on her would do all the talking.

(S/O) "RO, you're head is burning hot, you alright?-"

(RO635) "A-Ah! I'm fine just...j-just a little embarrassed."

(S/O) "I thought you'd be used to this by now-"

She turns to them pouting, but her hold on them has gotten tighter.

[potato-lord-but-not]

once again being annoying in ur ask box bc i have more things to say <3

EVERY TIME I WAKE UP TO YOUR ART I SCREAM AND GIGGLE AND ROLL AROUND IN BED LIKE A SPARROW IN DUST. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. SEEING UR DRAWINGS GIVES ME THE MOST INSANE EUPHORIA, THAT'S LITERALLY ALL I WANT MY ART TO LOOK LIKE EVEN THOUGH MY STYLE IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AND I SUCK AT CARTOONISH STUFF I WOULD LITERALLY KILL TO BE ABLE TO DRAW LIKE YOU. I SHOW MY IRLS YOUR ART ON A DAILY BASIS. EVERY TIME YOU INTERACT WIT MY POSTS OR ANSWER MY ASKS I EXPLODE INTO A CLOUD OF GLITTER. YOUR DOODLES ARE SO SILLY AND I SWEAR IT DOESN'T MATTER WHEN I SEE YOUR POSTS THEY ALWAYS INJECT ME WITH SHEER PRIMAL RABID JOY <3333 I SAW ONE THE OTHER DAY AFTER A 5.6 MILE CROSS COUNTRY PRACTICE WHEN I WAS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF A CLIFF BUT HTEN I SAW SILLY HUMAN JOHN AND OSCAR AND IT WAS CURED AND I WAS INSTANTLY REJUVENATED!!!! okay enough all caps my pinky hurts from holding the shift key down. i'm on my hands and knees begging my mother to let me buy better alcohol markers because mine are coughing and wheezing a collective death rattle and they are simply NOT SUFFICIENT to try to attempt ur coloring style. ALSO. our human johns are like literally twins??? giggling kicking my feet the way you draw him is so lovely and precious and gorgeous and stunning and marvelous and perfect and adorable and beautiful 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 he looks so squishable i think he would give the most marvelous back cracking soul healing hugs ever. AND OH MY GOD. MIGHT BE GIVING MYSELF AWAY BUT WHATEVER. YOUR BUTCHER DESIGN RGAHFHSLJDLJ I HAVE NOT BEEN NORMAL ABOUT HIM EVER AND I YAPPED ABOUT HIM TO MY LESBIAN FREIND (SHOWING THEM YOUR ART OF HIM) AND SHE DOESNT GET ITTTTTT HES SO AMAZING I NEED HIM TO TIE ME TO A CHAIR AND RIP MY FINGERNAILS OF(the pipe bomb under my chair goes off)

ahem. anyways. that concludes today's insanity. my sincerest apologies, it will happen again <33333 i think ur art is gonna get me through this school year

asks that heal your ailments and cleanse your soul— I need to tag this as something niche so I can find it again when I’m feeling down and need some encouragement from izel I mean from this random anon <3

[nigelights]

"the line" by twenty one pilots will play during viktors transformation, a breakdown of lyrics.

THE LINE SPOILERS BY TWENTY ONE PILOTS - PLOT SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO DO NOT KNOW WHAT VIKTOR IS IN THE LEAUGE OF LEGENDS GAMES, SEASON TWO OF ARCANE EPS 1-3 SPOILERS.

when we see viktor emerge from his magic filled shell, he's changed completely. and in the later episodes we see him take on a symbolic and guided path of light and healing, at the cost of himself and his health. in the very first few lyrics of the line, it already states things that are suspiciously close to what viktor is experiencing and will begin to experience in the later episodes.

we also see in the few trailers released, and now confirmed by the new episodes, that viktor is able to heal those with ailments, and there are people gathered in white while someone rises from the floor, becoming healed, but what does it do to viktor? we've seen his stance change on his closest friend and ally, jayce, but at his core he cannot deny that this magic has done irreparable damage to not only himself but his surroundings. he is already being worshiped, and the trailer only proves that it goes further beyond healing those injured by use of shimmer and battles.

"my body's on the line now, i cant fight this time now, i can feel the light shine on my face. did i disappoint you? will they still let me over, if i cross the line?"

we can see in his first instance of healing someone, it takes not only things from the surrounding area (bolts, screws, scraps of metal), but also takes something out of viktor, relating the first words sung in this, directly to him. this "light" that now surrounds viktor and the expectations with it, is also mentioned many many times.

"take a seat. but i'd rather you not be here for, what could be my final form. stay your pretty eyes on course. keep the memories of who i was before, so stay with me but--"

viktors "final form", in the LOL games, is a robotic machine herald of the new age of tech. this is such a switch up from the viktor we see in arcane, but i feel that this song is the 'push and pull' between both possibilities of another outcome of a kinder and caring viktor who sticks to his true core values, only changed by what the hexcore longs for him to do, and his original goal of helping people of zuan being so much closer now that he has this newfound power. the former, where he is enemies with jayce, becoming obsessive with the fact that mechanical error vs human error may save more people, pushing him to change himself into something unrecognisable. -- "id rather you not be here for, what Could be my final form. keep the memories of who i was before."

moving on, one of the first things we see when viktor comes out of his hexcore-made transformation pod thing, is that his eyes shift colors. one of the first hints that hes changed beyond being completely purple. -- "stay your pretty eyes on course"

"honestly, i thought i was fully prepared for the threshold in store, stay your pretty eyes on course. i guess i never really faced my fears before. so stay with me because. my body's on the line now, pull the blanket tight now. i can feel the light shine on my face."

vitkor has bitten off more than he can chew. hes changed dramatically, irreversibility, and the hexcore/sky guided him towards the path of light, at the cost of himself and others. hes gathered a following that could be considered cult-like, hes become a beacon in the thick smoke for those who need to see. what happens when viktors body gives out, prior to the mechanical modifications, and those who rely on him for healing, dont get healed? with viktors death, comes more death. pushing him to become something else entirely. -- "i thought i was fully prepared for the threshold in store"

we are all familiar with viktor and his multiple interactions with death. and at his side he's always had jayce, his support system. even with his suicide attempt, had jayce not been there viktor would've died, and the same thing goes for the start of s2 ep1. so viktor hasn't truly shaken hands with death, hasn't had it knocking so close, so what happens when he faces that fear alone? when his support system has changed from his best friend-- to a large group of people looking towards him, seeking his help with their injuries, worshiping him. this song is a letter to death, a letter seeking help and a letter to himself. -- "ive never really faced my fears before"

"please don't let them see me, show there's nothing left to try, i can feel the light shine on my face."

once hes crossed the line, theres no going back. and his followers may not perceive that as something good, their healer has become hurt, broken, and unlike himself. this last repeated line only reminds me of the intro where viktor is looking into the mask, and its glowing.

that in itself is such a confirmation that this song was written for him, but i felt that an explanation post like this was a cool thing to do plus i love twenty one pilots and i love arcane sooo this was an opportunity to yap away anyways i hope you enjoyed!!!

[yourlocaltreesimp]

could you do yan legend and/or hyrule? i love your writing so much! ❤️

Both? Both.

TW: Yandere and all it’s accompanies (obsession, violence, etc)

Yan!Chain Headcannons

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyrule

Really sweet once you first met, definitely one that became your friend before shit began to spiral. The familiarity of his old guide made becoming close friends really easy.

Once he fully realised who exactly you were, however, platonic standards are thrown out the window. Chances are he’s latched to your side, constantly making sure you’re happy and healthy. Lord forbid he found out that you aren’t, he’d spend all his magic fixing your ailments to whatever degree of success before striking down whatever dared try and harm you.

He’ll hold your hand or give you a kiss when you need healing, savouring being the one to hold you

Love languages are probably Physical touch and Acts of service. Making sure to be close to you, to shield you from the horrid world he’s seen. He likes to know you’re close, that you’re there.

Not to say he’s adverse to singing your praises. He’d write hymns and gospels if you asked. Afterall, who was Hylia to think she was divine when you stood right there.

Keeping up my love of Fae!Hyrule he definitely thinks you’re married to some extent

To him, he’s utterly devoted to you, at your beck and call. He’d bring the greatest of warriors, including the very deity that traveled with the chain to their knees if you said the word. The world would burn to ash and yet he’d shield you from the fire if it ment you could be close. He’d fight drove after drove of monsters if it ment he could collapse into your arms at the end. And in turn you give your time and compassion, you grace him with your presence. You let him heal you not that there’s any other option and you let him fawn and you keep his gifts. That’s as good as married to him.

Definitely uses his magic to… pull some strings. Make his words more persuasive, make the colours shine a little brighter, make his words more alluring, make the blood on his clothes less noticeable. Your clothes are enchanted, your jewellery as well. Your food magicked to calm your nerves and ease your heart.

You’ve met his faerie sisters. They love you. They’d riot if you were hurt. They’d tell him if you ran off.

Not to mention that it’s good practice to gift the fae with silver jewellery for safe passage or protection (yeah i mentioned this in a post before, idc). If you so happened to do this, he’s sold. Done for. Any question of his feelings for you? Gone. He’d pierce his ears to don your trinkets, flaunt the necklaces, adore the bracelets. But goddesses above, if you got him a ring? Well my friend, you’ve sealed your fate. He’d flaunt it, proud of his successful courtship, if his divinity being pleased by him. No one can touch it, no damage will come to it, it will be just as pristine as when it was in your hands.

Probably not one to kidnap you per say, but would be confused if you didn’t want to come with him. You gave him your ring, that’s binding to humans isn’t it? Your his and he’s yours. Why would you want to leave? He has everything you want. And anything more you could possibly want, all you’d have to do is utter the words and it’s yours.

For nicknames, Love, Honey, Sweetheart, Flower, a variety of faerie nicknames

Legend

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Off the bat remembered your guidance. While this led to some shakiness in his trusting you. The second he realised you’re real and not some cruel imposter, that too is thrown right out.

Doesn’t spare you from the sarcasm, in fact, he’s right on your nerves. He itches for your own snarky comments and blows. Itches for your voice and your attention.

Again with the enchanted jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, whatever it is that you want, it’s yours. No questions asked.

Sleeps on you… and odd headcannon, but sprawls out completely over you like a starfish whenever he needs to sleep.

Love language is Quality time and Gift giving. Quietly letting you braid his hair or run errands side by side, getting you rings and clothes. Picking flowers to bring back to you while he’s on patrol. The quiet things. Lest someone find out his moth eaten heart still beats.

Protective to a T. Literally feral. Will bite a man.

Snide comments? Only from him, watch your back. Dirty look? Pulling you close and glaring right back. Directly rude? Hope you have enough rupees to foot a medical bill (do they have those? do now.) But if you’re the unlucky soul that lay a hand on his heart? I hope you have good locks.

Definitely keeping up with the long lived headcannon that animal traits stick to their respective people. Will make a home for you if you happen to land in his Hyrule. Idealises the quiet life with you, getting the life he never got. Loving parents, kids *cough* breeding kink *cough* , happy life, free of Hylia’s trials and falling through his own reality.

Would probably kidnap you, he isn’t loosing again. His poor heart, battered and beaten as it is won’t just let you walk out. Nope. Not on his watch. He knows every forest, every cave, every home in every village. You’re not going to up and leave him again.

Nicknames: Babe, Love, Beloved on special occasions

Not really one for using pet names infront of others, not until there’s a competition for your favour.

[cowgirlcasanova]

LIQUOR & LONLINESS

pairing | arthur morgan x fem! oc

summary | arthur sees caroline alone by the fire and gives her some company. caroline can’t stand seeing him so exhausted and tries to take some weight off his shoulders

tags | fluff, flirting but everyone denies it, two idiots pretending not to be in love, fireside chat, massage, cute nervous arthur

word count | 2.5k

a/n | hi bffs! this is my first time ever publishing a fic! i’ve been trying to get back into creative writing again so here we are. please be nice to me ok? :)

i plan on publishing more arthur fics with this oc, building up their world/relationship & revealing her backstory. i just always think it’s so fun to read about ocs so i thought i’d give it a try! so this is a little introduction. hope you like it <3

A small sliver of the moon peeked through the clouds reflecting off the bay surrounding Clemens Point.

The glow of the moon and the dying firelight contrasted beautifully on Carolines face, something Arthur couldn’t help but take notice of as he gazed at her from under the awning of his wagon.

He couldn’t force himself to revert his gaze, completely enthralled by the way the shadows danced across her at the smallest of movements. He was already picturing the angle in which he’d have to move his pencil to even attempt at sketching the sight of the warm and cool light dueling on her face. Arthur cursed himself under his breath at the mere thought of filling another page in his journal with her face, something he’d found himself doing far too often these days.

“Arthur you miserable fool.” He muttered to himself, grimacing as he stretched out his overworked body and rose off his cot.

Caroline sat alone, unsure if the heat she was feeling was radiating from the ebbing fire or from the burn of the dark liquor making its way through her system. She stuck to taking small sips of her glass of bourbon, feeling a strange guilt for drinking it in the first place.

As the only member of the Van Der Linde gang to have advanced medical knowledge it all fell on her to heal their various ailments. She often had just enough supplies to keep everyone afloat, but having the law after you constantly made it a challenge to get your hands on much needed medicine. So, she’d save what she could and turn to liquor as her medicine of choice, trying to save all the expensive tonics and remedies for the traumas that really needed it. Bill complaining of a back injury? Whiskey. The days that Hosea's cough seemed to worsen? Whiskey. Even using whiskey as a last ditch effort to warm John after his wolf attack. She always tried her best to stay out of her own medicinal stash of liquor, But, some nights she wanted the peace that came with the burn of whiskey. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Hey there, Miss Caroline.” Arthurs gruff voice breaks through the unusually silent night. The smell of the burning fire filled his nose as he got closer. He approaches her with a courteous nod, running a hand across his growing stubble.

“Mind if I join ya?” He removed his banged up hat, holding it close over his chest, a small sign of respect toward the lady that did go unnoticed by her. Rarely anything he did went unnoticed by her.

She smiled up at him with the warm smile she always wore, but something about it made him feel like that sweet smile was just for him everytime. Though he’d never let himself believe something as foolish as that. When she turned to look at him the shadows on her face stopped battling and the warm light of the fire covered her completely. From Arthurs vantage point it almost looked as if she was glowing.

“Please do.”

He moves as gently as he can for his size, taking his seat next to her on the old log the gang has fashioned into a bench. His usual confidence was tempered by something softer while next to her. His leg brushes against her knee, as he sits down, a reminder of how close you two are. The weight of his knee was pushing the scratchy material of her skirt against her leg and yet, she can’t bring herself to move her leg away from the tiny space they share. In the harsh life she's suddenly found herself thrown into, although by her own actions. She finds herself craving affection and touch more and more everyday. A gentle touch. Not a casual pat on the shoulder from Dutch or a clap on the back from Sean. Something with meaning behind it, with care and tenderness.

When Arthurs leg stays planted firmly, their knees barely brushing, her heart aches at the thought that the ever so tough man beside her may be feeling the same.

"you doin’ alright this evenin’, caroline?” He asks, his voice softer than usual. His eyes moved across her face, taking in the closeness and her warmth that he was now admiring up close.

“Im doin’ just fine. How ‘bout yourself?” Her sickeningly sweet southern accent hits his ears, making him unable to stop a smile from tugging at his lips.

“I’ve been worse.”

“Long day I take it?” She asks, sipping from her glass, not diverting her gaze from him. Her face takes on a concerned expression. He has to glance away from the look she gives him, deflecting his eyes to the fire. Something about the way she looked at him always seemed so soft and genuine. It turned him into a fool everytime.

“Ain’t they all.” He drawls, letting out a self deprecating chuckle.

Arthur stretches out his sore, muscled arms in front of him in an effort to work out the constant deep ache that his overworked body feels. His biceps flex through the thin material of his button up shirt, the material looking like it could give way any moment, unintentionally drawing Caroline's eye. Her heart speeds up as she takes another sip from her glass, doing her best to quiet her thoughts of him with liquor. A quiet, painful groan slips from his mouth at the movement. He closes his eyes and rolls his neck to try and soothe discomfort.

“Did’ya hurt yourself?” She asks swiftly, her voice filling with immediate concern. Arthur scolded himself, trying to push down the warmth he felt over her worrying for him. It was her job.

His eyes warmed at her concern, making her wonder if it was the pain or her that caused the change. She hoped it was the latter. “my shoulder just been actin’ up on me. nothin’ for you to fuss about.”

“Well, if ya keep throwin’ your weight around it ain’t never gon’ heal.” She laughed softly, shaking her head as if she was scolding the tough and hardened man beside her.

He made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan, hating to be reminded of how often he seemed to be caught in some violent altercation nowadays. He hated it more coming from Caroline, the sweetest woman he knows. He couldn't help but feel like she should loathe him and this life. That she should turn heel and run while she still had a chance at a good life. Maybe even being able to settle down with a rich man somewhere, raise a family. The things a woman like her should be able to do. Not running with a gang of criminals.

“It ain’t the “throwing my weight around,” He says chuckling, repeating her choice of wording. “I’m just gettin’ old”

“Oh, you are not gettin’ old you silly man!” She whacked his arm playfully, the sound making a weak thump because of her carefulness, taking extra precaution to hit his forearm and not his sore shoulder.

All he musters out is a small lighthearted scoff at her strike, which felt more like a love tap.

“It ain’t age! It's all that punchin’ you're doing.” A weak attempt at chastising him, but she's not able to keep the smile off her lips long enough. “And yes, I did hear about that fight at the saloon.”

He looked over at her and the way she clicked her tongue in disapproval. She was still wearing that same smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle when she raised her eyebrows at him, the expression playfully reprimanding him and silently telling him that she was owed an answer.

“Yeah, I guessed you would’ve heard about it. But, they were was askin’ for it.” He felt an odd sense of understanding when she didn’t disagree with him but instead laughed and shook her head affectionately. “I'm sure they was.” Maybe she didn’t see him and his life as horribly as he thought.

“I guess maybe I can be a hotheaded fool sometimes.” He spoke, berating himself under the appearance of a good humored joke.

“That you certainly can be.” She chuckled, with a warm grin. He heard no malice in her words.

The way Arthur sits with his shoulders hunched forward, It's obvious he’s tired, sore, and overworked. It breaks her heart, the way he does so much for others here just to end up sitting here aching internally and externally.

“C’mere,” She gestures to the dirt ground under her feet. “Let me see what I can do for ya.” the pleading in her voice sounds like this is just as much for her as it is for him.

He doesn't want to. Making her work for him? No, it should be the other way. For a girl like her, he should be spending every waking minute running around making sure she has everything she could possibly want.

Before he can turn down her offer, she snaps her fingers, pointing at the same spot. She won't allow him to put himself last this time.

“Yes ma’am” He chuckles at her unusual assertiveness.

She carefully lays her hand on his shoulder, as if she was checking to make sure he wouldn’t flee like a wild horse the moment he felt her touch. Once certain, she rolls the pad of her thumb over his sore muscle, taking great care to be gentle. Like there was something she cherished under hands. The fabric of his shirt moves along with the movement of her thumb, stopping her hands from being able to touch his skin.

His broad shoulders relax under her touch, goosebumps rising over his skin when she touches him so delicately. He’s grateful for the shirt covering him so she can’t feel the way his skin reacts so easily to her touch. His head hangs forward as he lets out a quiet groan of contentment, relishing in the feeling. Whether it's the feeling of the sore muscle being worked loose or the feeling of being cared for so sweetly he’s not so sure. She peers down at his face and sees his eyes flutter closed as she continues her soothing movement. Her eyes were stuck on his face as he relaxed for the first time.

The smile lines around his mouth made it obvious he wore a warm expression often no matter how tough he looked at a moment's glance. His aging eyes were developing small wrinkles on the outer corners from years of squinting in the sun and all the times his bountiful laugh trailed up to his eyes. He always smelled of tobacco and ash, even his scent exuded warmth if you're able to get close enough to notice.

Arthur Morgan, The man who could make statues talk. He didn’t look intimidating to her, he rarely ever did but, especially not in the vulnerable position she’s seeing him in now. In their closeness, she could see the way the longer pieces of his growing stubble had a small curl to them, The way he had a few tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose, presumably from being in the sun his whole life. She realized he didn’t look so sad for once, he looked peaceful. And she was the one making him feel that way.

“That helpin’ at all?” She asks quietly, close enough to him that he feels her breath against his ear.

He nods sleepily, angling his neck to the left to stretch the muscle she’s working on. With the more exposed area, she runs her thumb along his neck, landing just under his jaw bone. He lets out a low, content murmur to answer her. “Mhmm” With her hands on him, she can feel the vibration of his rumble throughout her.

“Alrigh’, jus’ relax.” She whispers, her calm voice mixing with the sound of the crackling fire and the waves of the bay lapping quietly.

He lets out quiet, low groans here and there. The rumble in his voice suggests the sound is emanating from somewhere deep in his chest. His head hangs in his calm state, being enveloped in warm light.

Although this was meant to help him, she could feel it soothing her as well. She craved tenderness so deeply that this moment felt like a relief from all the toughness around her. She wasn’t just offering gentleness, she was receiving it. Arthur trusted her touch and surrendered to it. In this intimate moment, he let her be gentle and soft. For now that’s what she needed.

Even though his hands weren't on her at all, she felt as though they may as well could've been.

“That should help it at least.” She feathers her massage off, now just gently running a soothing hand over the muscle. “I don’t wanna end up aggravatin’ it more.”

He rolls his neck as he stands back up, positioning himself on the log once more. “Felt real nice. Thank ya” She feels his hand pat against her knee, gently squeezing it. Her leg felt cold after the loss of contact, even through a layer of fabric. A chill goes through her entire body. She's grateful for the long skirt covering her legs so he can’t feel the goosebumps across them.

“Don't mention it.” She says dismissively, although her heart is hammering in her chest. She takes a sip from her glass hoping he’ll believe the alcohol is the reason for the redness washing over the apples of her cheeks. “Just glad it did ya some good.”

“You’re a damn fine nurse, Caroline” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, looking almost jovial in nature. He doesn’t look so tense anymore. His shoulders fall in a more relaxed manner and the fire casts long bronze shadows over him, creating contours on his face that give his usually piercing eyes a new kind of gentleness.

“Well thank you Mr. Morgan” She beams at him, happy that her work is noticed. Especially by him. She’s constantly half exhausted with all she does in camp, fixing every small ailment that anyone complains of. And yet, shes not bringing in money or doing “domestic chores” so, Grimshaw sees no worth in her. “I do my best to keep you boys alive.” She laughs.

He scoffs with a lighthearted chuckle at her calling him “Mr. Morgan” He turns his gaze to the fire, watching it dance for a few moments before his eyes flicker down to his hands, looking at them with distant thought. “We’d probably be in a lot worse shape without ya…”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She laughs bashfully. She’s never been one to accept a compliment easily. But, something about the sincerity his voice holds always manages to make her consider that it could be the truth. She laughs again, shaking her head as if she was physically shaking the thought out. “Now, any other ways you’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt that I should know about?” Her eyebrows raise playfully.

The same scoff leaves his mouth, along with a low chuckle. “No, nothin’ else. Not now at least.”

“Well stop goin’ and gettin’ yourself hurt and maybe it’ll stay that way.” A warm smile bloomed across her face. He couldn’t help but notice the way a small crinkle formed across the bridge of her nose when she laughed. The sight captivated him too much, she seemed almost holy to him.

“I’ll try. No promises” He said with a chuckle that sounded from deep within his chest. “But, I'll try for you.”

[the-magiarcheologist]

What happened to Mr. Morganach?

I want to try to do something a bit different today. I usually come in with some in-depth analysis of some details in the game. There is an element of speculation to everything I post but I usually try to stick as closely as possible to some canon events/elements found in the game to deliver an analysis that is as plausible as possible. And there will be in-depth analysis today too! We will be having a look at Isidora’s journal entries.

But I also have a theory. It’s perhaps a convincing theory or perhaps a completely crazy theory, hard for me to judge at this point because I’m so deep into it! So I want to try this: we’ll start with the analysis. All very reasonable and based on facts. And then we’ll plunge deep into the harebrained theory and I’ll see if you follow me or not.

Let’s go!

(Also, a warning if you’re planning on clicking that "read more" button: this is a loooooong post. So be sure you have some minutes to spare!)

The Analysis

Ok, so, we find 7 excerpts from Isidora’s journal throughout the game and, if we read them all together, they tell a pretty clear story of where she went and what she did after she graduated from Hogwarts and how she came to be able to take someone’s pain away.

First journal entry

We learn that she is at a camp treating people suffering from the bubonic plague. This, in and of itself, is fascinating because this gives us a glimpse of how things were before the Statute of Secrecy went into effect.

We don’t know exactly when Isidora lived but the Hogwarts Legacy Artbook tells us the Keepers lived during the Tudor period (1485-1603), which is in line with them being around close to the creation of Gringotts (in 1474). Anyway, this means Isidora most likely lived a century or more before 1692, when the Wizarding World broke off from the Muggle world. And we learn here that, back then, muggle doctors and witch healers worked together to heal those afflicted by the plague!

What’s also interesting in this entry is that Isidora seems more worried about the grief and mental pain these people may be experiencing than their physical ailments that can be healed. (Although we know healing these physical ailments is not as trivial as she makes it sound considering how many people died!) And here she first introduces her meeting with a man that reminds her of her father and that she wants to help get rid of his grief.

She also mentions "the others are wrong." This indicates, to me, that even back then she had already talked to the other Keepers (not just Percival) about her desire to take away people’s pain using ancient magic and they had already told her not to do it.

Second journal entry

This follows directly from the first note. She is further debating whether she should help people with their psychological pain or not.

It’s interesting here that she mentions "I travelled to learn" and also mentions some research that she is doing. Is this research the reason why she came to this camp? Is she even helping heal the patients at all (physically healing them from the plague I mean, not the taking-away-pain thing that she’ll attempt later)? Or is she just a passive observer (hence why she feels so frustrated about not doing anything)? And if so, what is she observing? For what purpose? Or is the research she mentions something completely different than what she initially came to learn at this camp? She could have more recently started to research the possibility to take away someone’s pain, after experiencing all the grief from the plague.

All interesting questions but not something we ever get any answers about and not the focus of this post. What I take away from this entry, mostly, is that we also learn that the man mentioned previously, the one who reminded her of her father, just left camp. So he’s not under the supervision of other doctors or healers anymore. She also directly mentions wanting to help him. This is important for what Isidora will do next.

Third journal entry

Now this is the pivotal entry! The first time Isidora ever attempts to remove someone’s pain.

Re-reading these journal entries after I first finished the game, I though this note described what happened with her father, how she lost control of the spell and how he came to be the empty husk we see in San Bakar’s memory. Reading the notes in order again after some time, it’s pretty clear that this is not about her father. We will see further evidence of that in future journal entries but considering that the order of the entries follows chronological events in Isidora’s life, this happened during her travels, before she came back to Hogwarts and before she healed her father.

I think it only takes a minimal amount of connecting the dots to understand that this is Isidora attempting the pain-removing spell on the man she met in the plague camp who reminded her of her father. He had just left camp, was completely alone and unsupervised. She likely followed him and, with or without his consent, attempted to heal him of his grief. Of course, we learn here that it completely failed.

It worked at first and she did remove his pain ("I recall feeling a sense of euphoria as I watched the pain vanish.") but then she lost control of the spell and lost consciousness ("But then everything started to turn." and "The world floated back to me as if in a watery haze. How long had I been unconscious?") The result is that she completely emptied the poor man of all this emotions and perhaps even more (his soul? his spirit?) ("I only remember his eyes. Empty. Empty of sorrow, yes, but also – "). The way she writes "I only remember his eyes" even implies the man could be dead because, if he was still alive in front of her, she would not need to remember his eyes, she would see his eyes. Or perhaps he just left while she was unconscious. Unclear. It could also imply the spell had an effect on Isidora’s own memories (as well as her emotions: "I recall feeling a sense of euphoria as I watched the pain vanish."), giving her some amnesia episode which makes it hard to recall what exactly happened after she performed the spell (hence why she also asks: "How long had I been unconscious?")

We also learn that Isidora’s head hurts. She immediately supposes it is because she hit her head when she fell unconscious but it is just a supposition on her hand ("I must have hit my head"). It’s also likely her head hurts because she just attempted dangerous and powerful magic and it had an effect on her as well as her patient. Hence why she can "neither feel nor see a mark" because she never actually hit her head, the pain is caused by something else. Also, an important detail that, in my mind, confirms that this happened while she was travelling helping plague patients: she worries that her headache could be the plague (the "Black Death"). She would only worry about that if she had recently been exposed to it, ergo if this journal entry was written when she was still working in that camp.

Also, last detail I want to note, she says: "The world floated back to me as if in a watery haze." I point this out because I have another post I’ve been meaning to write for some time now about ancient magic appearing as water. We see ancient magic appearing as blue water droplets floating around the Keepers wands whenever they use ancient magic. Whenever the MC activates an ancient magic hotspot, it appears like water surging out of the ground. And when the MC crosses one of the ancient magic portals it’s like they cross a very thin watery film with little droplets following in their wake. All of that is a topic for another post but I just note the use of that vocabulary by the writers here.

Fourth journal entry

This is where everything starts to make sense. She says she had a breakthrough and finally understood exactly how to remove people’s pain without emptying them of all emotions. The key is that one must not use too much power but instead be very delicate in the application of the magic. This, to me, further confirms that the man with the empty eyes in the previous journal entry is not her father. She lost control of the spell with that first man and then worked to understand what went wrong and how to control the spell properly. She is now able to remove "the merest whisper of pain from just above the heart" which is what we see her do in all of the Keeper’s memories, including the instance where she applied the spell to her father. This is what she does to Niamh and, likely, what she did to the Hogwarts student she dragged down to the repository cave. We don’t know what harm this does to the people it is used on but it certainly does not empty them of all emotions.

And speaking of unintended side-effects, it seems that this spell, even much better controlled, could still be having some effects on Isidora’s own emotions ("I sensed a surge of peace myself, as though I knew instantly that what I was doing was right.") Although it is hard to tell what is the spell and what is just Isidora. We know this research means a lot to her and she is certainly very emotionally invested in succeeding in this so these could be entirely natural emotions. And yet, considering the strange effect inhaling that haze has on her later on and how it turns MC’s eyes red at the very end of the game, we should not discount quite yet that the spell may be doing something to the caster themselves.

I want to also again note the specific vocabulary used in several journal entries to talk about what she is extracting. "Whispers of pain." Is this a metaphor or is she hearing literal whispers? Whenever we see this spell used in the Keepers’ memories we do hear actual whispers along with it so I’m inclined to take this literally. And do you know where else one can hear whispers? Near any ancient magic portal (conjured by Percival and Charles in their trials) or any ancient magic hotspot! And the whispers heard may very well be "whispers of pain". Near the ancient magic portal, I and several other people agree we can hear a voice say "Avada Kedavra", hardly a joyous thought. And if you pause next to an ancient magic hotspot before activating it, you can hear two voices (who sound like children’s voices to me) and one of them sounds very much like moans of pain.

So is the source of the ancient magic used by the Keepers and the one we find existing in the world "whispers of pain" like the ones that Isidora extracts? And yet, ancient magic existed and was used by the Keepers before Isidora ever invented her pain-removing spell! Indeed in the memory of the Keepers using ancient magic to save Feldcroft from the drought no whispers are heard. Percival confirms directly to Isidora that there are different kinds of ancient magic (because the magic she saw them wield was : "a particular kind of ancient magic", implying there are other kind, and when he first sees her pain-removing spell be performed he says that "the traces of that magic are different from what I’ve seen before"). So, perhaps, the magic used on Feldcroft is different than the magic found in the inter-dimensional portals and the ancient magic hotspots. And yet that leaves a pretty big gaping interrogation along the lines of: why were the Keepers using the "whispers of pain" kind of magic when creating their portals?! We will come back to that but keep that in mind because it’s pivotal information!

Fifth journal entry

This is where she finally healed her father. And this happened after she had mastered the spell to avoid any complete mind-wipe.

Not much to say about this because we see these events happen in the Keepers’ and her own memories. I do find it interesting that she says that Niamh seemed to understand what she was doing. We harldy see Niamh’s reaction either in Percival or in Isidora’s memory but, from what little we see of her face during these scenes, she looks more wary than interested. But ok.

Also, to note that all of that likely happened before Isidora started inhaling the "pain haze" that escapes when the spell is done.

Sixth journal entry

And here we have it: she started inhaling the pain-haze!

And we’re once again faced with this question: is the ancient magic affecting her emotions and thoughts or not? This "sense of purpose" that she mentions feeling, it’s hard to tell if this is an actual effect of the magic or if this is just Isidora’s hubris and her convincing herself, when faced with the opposition of the Keepers, that the magic itself is giving her signs that she is on the right path, in a sort of cognitive dissonance effect. This sentience she attributes to the magic, is it real or is she imagining it? I don’t think we ever get a clear answer to that question in the narrative.

All of that is made even more complex to disentangle by the fact that inhaling the pain-haze also makes her magic stronger. I think this effect is real and not just an illusion on Isidora’s part. We can explain that by the fact that she is absorbing a piece of someone else’s raw emotion and we know that strong emotions felt by the caster makes their magic stronger. We see that happen several times with Harry in the books. So, when she inhales these strands, Isidora stews in other people’s emotions and that lends her magic power (but also likely volatility).

And lastly, another little "vocabulary" section: often when she refers to the people she is helping, Isidora calls them "souls", even in some of her earlier journal entries ("number of souls I have been able to help" and "I have the power to help these souls" in her second entry). Does that mean that her pain-removing spell is acting on people’s souls? That would certainly explain why this magic is so dangerous and why the Keepers fear it so much. We know that splitting any part of one’s soul is extremely dark and complex magic (Horcruxes) so removing any part of someone’s soul must be equally so…

And also, does that mean that our emotions are part of our soul? The way Dementors work tends to confirm that.

Seventh journal entry

The most interesting tidbit in this entry might be that we learn that the Keepers were already calling themselves "Keepers" before Isidora died! This contradicts the explanation they give to the MC. Here is what Percival says in the last scene in the Map Chamber before opening the way to the repository:

"You see, we could not destroy the strands of emotion Isidora had stolen from so many. So we did all that we could to keep them safe. "We also realised that until they could be destroyed, the magic used to create them was a danger to wizardkind. "Hence, we became Keepers. Keepers of an unfathomable secret. We knew that – some day – one with the ability to see traces of ancient magic might be seduced by its power."

This strongly implies that they became Keepers after they realized Isidora’s stored strands of magic could not be destroyed, so after they discovered the repository.

This could be just a harmless simplification on Percival’s part. They could have become "Keepers" shortly before Isidora’s death, maybe after Niamh learned that she was continuing her experiments and using Goblin Silver to store that sort of evil, dangerous magic. But then, it’s strange that Isidora knew they called themselves Keepers. Surely they would not have told her that they were forming a super-secret alliance to move against her! Did Isidora find out anyway? How? This is just another one of these things that does not quite add up about what the Keepers tell the MC. I wonder if there is something else they are "keeping"? Another magic-related secret they’ve been keeping for a long time and that they, at first, asked Isidora to keep with them (hence why she knew about the name of "Keepers") before she broke away from them. Maybe they are just keeping the secret of how to wield ancient magic (because we know it can be wielded even by those who don’t see traces of magic, so, logically, there must be a way to teach it even when it does not come naturally like it does to Percival and the MC).

And this is also where Isidora mentions she left a trail to follow (much like the Keepers later did with the portkey). This trail must be the entrance to the Undercroft that lies under her house, the tryptich and canvas pieces, her memories and her portrait. I actually have a lot to say about the trail Isidora must have left behind (and how the Keepers must have actually "stolen" a part of that trail for their own purpose) but I’ll leave that for another post. Though I will still note here that it’s interesting that she had already left this trail behind very early on in her life. She says: "I confess I have begun to wonder if I will ever find another in my lifetime with whom I can share this work." And sure. But, by all accounts, Isidora still had plenty of time before her at that point in her life. Plenty of time still to teach others her pain-removing spell, plenty of time still to find a worthy successor. So why was she that worried that her knowledge would be lost? Why create a secret path to her research right now when her research had barely begun? Did she know she might soon be killed or silenced? Sure, the Keepers had made it pretty clear they were opposed to what she was doing but had they threatened her? Did she know something else that she knew she might be killed for? Isidora’s paranoia is all the more striking because she turned out to be right! She would not get to live much longer.

From San Bakar’s memory we know what must have happened shortly after she wrote this journal entry: her father was found, emptied of all of his emotions, in their cottage. The same night, Percival found out that Isidora had been removing pain from her students. This convinced the Keepers to confront her. Percival attacked first (an Expelliarmus on Isidora) and, when retaliating, Isidora hurt Niamh. San Bakar then decided to permanently neutralize her when it became apparent that she was too powerful and might overpower both Percival and Charles Rookwood. The end.

...But I haven’t even come to my theory!

Ok. Here goes.

The Theory

What happened that night

There is one thing in this whole chain of events, an especially in light of my re-reading of Isidora’s journal entries, that does not make any sense to me: why was her father emptied of all his emotions?

We’re given to think that Isidora did this. This is certainly what San Bakar thinks when he finds her father and hence why he runs to Percival to warn him. And yet, with everything we know about Isidora, her motivations and her journey, I don’t think she could have been the one wiping her father’s mind like that.

First of all, I don’t think she would ever do that intentionally. She cared about her father too much. She wanted to see him come back to life, not become even more apathetic than before! And even if we suppose that a) she had entered a state of madness and started loosing control of the pain removing spell or b) that she became so obsessed with ridding people of their pain that she considered that wiping their mind of all emotions was the ultimate act of salvation from any negative emotions, then why did she not wipe the mind of the student she dragged down to the repository that same day? She says she is healing her students of their pain, Percival says she is using her spell on them. And yet, that student was just fine when the Keepers found them. Why would she loose control/abuse of the spell on her father, the person she cares about the most, but not on her students?

The only reason I can think of why she would wipe his mind like this is if her father had somehow turned against her. If he has started telling everyone around him that the pain-removing spell was a bad idea, then, yeah, maybe she would want to silence him. But that’s a big "maybe". We know she loved her father and all that she did, she did for him. It’s pretty unlikely she would turn against him like this.

But there might be another explanation for what happened to her father...

Ok. This is where we really leave "analysis" territory and enter into "crazy theory" territory. None of what I’m about to say is strongly supported by canon events in the game. It’s just a theory I have and you can agree or disagree but hear me out: another ancient magic user attempted the pain-removing spell on Isidora’s father.

We know from Isidora’s journal (entry 4) that this is a very difficult spell to control. What happened to Isidora’s father (empty eyes, empty of sorrow but also everything else) is exactly what happened to the first man Isidora attempted the spell on. In other words: what happened to Mr. Morganach is the work of someone that is a novice in the practice of the pain-removing spell. It cannot be Isidora. She had mastered that spell a long time ago and would have been even more unlikely to slip up with her father, considering how much she cared about him.

In fact, we know that until the very end of her life, despite all other forms of madness she exhibited, she still had precise control over the spell because she used it on Niamh and on her students without wiping their minds.

If we accept that to be true – the fact that someone else was using (and abusing) the pain-removing spell – then the list of suspects is pretty short: we only know of 4 other people that were able to use ancient magic at the time.

I don’t think it’s Bakar since he seemed honestly shocked when he discovered Isidora’s father. Of course, he could have falsified that entire memory but I think falsifying memories is something really hard to do and would usually leave some traces. So let’s take him off the suspect list for now. That leaves the other 3 Keepers. And that’s when Percival starts looking really suspicious…

It’s pretty much implied that Percival was the one to send Bakar to check on Isidora in her home. When Bakar enters Percival’s office he just says: "Isidora was not at her home," implying that Percival already knew he had gone there to look for her. And if Bakar reports like this to Percival it makes sense that Percival was the one that asked him to go check. Percival then says: "I’ve just learned that she has been wielding that magic on students." How exatly he knew that is never explained. Finally, Bakar says: "We must gather the others." So Bakar and Rackham had been investigating Isidora on their own, the other two did not know yet that anything was wrong.

Of course, there is the "innocent" explanation: Percival was looking for Isidora, perhaps to talk to her, but could not find her. He sent Bakar looking for her in the most likely location for her to be: her home. Percival, in the mean time, might have been interrogating her student to know where she was/what happened and that’s how he discovered everything. They then gathered the others and confronted Isidora, killing her to stop her madness. It’s still unclear how they even found the repository, though, again, it could have been the student who told them where Isidora was taking them to remove their pain.

But, if we go by the hypothesis that another magic user had just mind-wiped Isidora’s father (accidentally or not) while Isidora was not at her home, the story starts to look quite different. So let’s contemplate another scenario: Percival, for as-of-now unknown reasons, finds himself experimenting with the pain-removing spell he told Isidora not to use (making him quite the hypocrite). He goes to test it on Isidora’s father, either with the explicit intention to hurt him (we will explore later on some reasons why he would have wanted to do that) or just because he knew the spell had already been used on him so if there were any bad side effects, Isidora’s father would have already been suffering from them making it less risky to use the spell on him again than on someone else not suffering from any side effects yet. The spell backfires because it’s a very difficult spell to control and it requires practice. Now Percival knows he is going to be found out. He knows that as soon as Isidora gets home she might realize what happened (because of her extensive experience with that spell) so he puts his plan into motion: he goes back to Hogwarts, tells San Bakar that Isidora has disappeared and that he needs to go to her home to see if she is there. He knows Bakar will find her father and immediately think Isidora did this to him because she is already known to experiment with dangerous spells.

By that point, Percival might have already known what Isidora was up to below the castle (but he had not stopped her because, secretly, he was actually interested in knowing more about the pain-manipulation magic, hence why he had already been experimenting with it himself). Or he does interrogate her student in an effort to find her so he can move against her when Bakar comes back. Either way, Bakar does come back horrified by what he saw, suspects nothing of Percival’s involvement and Percival enrolls him to convince Niamh and Charles of Isidora’s evil so they can all go kill or subdue the only one who could possibly have exposed Percival’s lies: Isidora herself! Isidora being dead, Percival’s crime against Mr. Morganach is covered up and he gets away with it!

Now... I see the sceptical eyebrows raised! You might think that this makes as little sense as Isidora herself harming her father. There is nothing to support that Percival would have wanted to use the pain-removing spell. And I agree with that. But I would like to bring up the repository that sits under Charles Rookwood’s castle. Because what the hell is a repository doing there?

The Rookwood Castle Repository

I have actually already had this discussion with @superconductivebean who had some compelling arguments to explain why Isidora might have put a first test-repository under Rookwood Castle. Charles Rookwood likely wasn’t living in that castle at the time (the castle was already a ruin when the Keepers came to Feldcroft during the drought and Charles calls it his "former residence"). Buried below an abandoned ruin actually seems like a pretty good place to hide a magic repository you don’t want anyone to find. So, ok, this repository was likely built by Isidora without the Keepers’ knowledge (just like the Hogwarts repository).

But, at some point, the Keepers (or at least Charles and Percival) did find out about it. By the time they are creating their trials and their portraits to communicate with a future ancient magic user, they know about it! Charles Rookwood, talking with the MC in the Map Chamber, with Percival present, says about Rookwood Castle:

"Not only is it the location of the next trial, it is home to a source of power that would be devastating in the wrong hands."

And here is why this raised all kinds of alarm bells for me: why is the repository not as well protected as the one under Hogwarts?

This repository is not buried nearly as deep as the Hogwarts one is! Hence why Ranrok found it relatively easily once he had a vague idea of where to search. We know the Keepers cannot destroy the repositories but surely they could have moved it to a more secure location? Say, under Hogwarts with the other well-guarded repository? And if they could not move it then surely they could have devised other strong protections for it! Why not post a few of those pensieve guardians around? Another locked door that only opens to the one wielding a very special ancient magic wand? When we find that repository open, there is nothing to suggest it was strongly protected. No broken down pensieve guardian statues, no obliterated doors. It seems that repository was only hidden by a few stone wall in the Rookwood Castle basement. Sure it’s somewhere behind the door that open with the magic runes thing but those runes are activated by any old spell. And it’s just a set of doors, just one layer of protection compared to the many layers they put to protect the Hogwarts repository. None of this makes any sense!

To make matters worse, as @superconductivebean pointed out in a recent post (yes this post is in Russian. No, I don’t speak Russian. But I would encourage anyone to bust out the online translators to read these analyses, they are always so in-depth!) they left this repository just by the path to Rookwood’s trial! Even if it had not already been busted open, the chance that the one going through the trial would stumble upon it was pretty high. Why would they take that risk? Before going through Rookwood’s trial, the person doing the trials knows nothing of this magic and why they should not use it. So putting them on the path of forbidden, highly volatile magic is just stupid! This goes against everything else they do to ensure this kind of magic does not fall into the wrong hands!

@superconductivebean suggested (in a last ditch attempt to explain this madness! 🤣) that they might have left this repository here to act as a beacon to lure someone able to feel magic to Rookwood Castle so that they could find the Portkey and be set on the path. That’s a possibility. But it’s a very reckless one! Because someone did stumble upon this badly protected repository and did use it for the wrong means: Ranrok! I just don’t understand them taking this kind of risk.

Unless… Rackham and Rookwood were doing some secret experiments of their own on the "whispers-of-pain" magic from the repository.

Maybe Rackham and Rookwood did not want to lock this repository away like the other one because they were actually interested in that kind of magic. They took the risk of leaving that repository accessible in order to study (or even possibly use) it.

(Although, even if they wanted the repository accessible to study it, they could still have made sure the path to their trial was away from where the repository was buried, say… on the other side of this massive castle! This is still an inconsistency.)

'Whispers-of-pain" magic

So let’s talk about the "whispers-of-pain" kind of ancient magic I brought up earlier! This "whispers-of-pain" magic must be closely related to Isidora’s pain-removing spell. It’s the same whispers we hear during Isidora’s spell and near portals and ancient magic hotspots. And yet the Keepers use it! They use the pain-whispering inter-dimentional portals in their trials. And the pain-whispering ancient magic hotspots, were left behind by the Keepers! Charles Rookwood straight up says that these hotspots are:

"Evidence of the Keepers' efforts to manipulate the power of ancient magic during our time."

Speaking of evidence, that’s a pretty damning one against the Keepers! First of all we learn that the Keepers were experimenting on "manipulat[ing] the power of ancient magic" (something that, by the way!, they directly caution the MC against doing at the end of the trials!) but they were not trying to manipulate the power of any kind of ancient magic, this one is specifically the "whispers-of-pain" kind! I don’t know how to record video from the game so I can’t link some evidence of it but, really, go stand above an ancient magic hotspot before activating it and listen. Tell me you don’t hear the whispers! What were they even doing experimenting with that kind of magic? And what kind of experiments were they doing that left traces centuries later?

There is a possibility that these experiments were them trying to see if they could destroy or weaken the magic left in the repository. But then, why does Charles not say so? And why are the traces of these experiments all over Hogwarts Valley and the Coast, i.e. far away from where the repositories are? And why are they encouraging the MC to go and absorb them? It still does not add up.

We know that the Keepers can wield another kind of ancient magic: the one they use when they save Feldcroft, or even the one they use when building pretty pillars, which is not followed by any creepy whispers. In fact, if they wanted to create inter-dimensional portals, couldn’t they use the "crystallized stone" kind of space-bending doors? Like the ones Isidora uses on the mirror as entries to the Undercroft? No creepy whispers around those, as far as I can hear!

So when did the Keepers start using the "whispers-of-pain" kind of ancient magic? And I say "Keepers" but, really, I mean Charles and Percival. I don’t think there is any clear evidence of Niamh or San using the "whispers-of-pain" magic. There are no inter-dimensional portals in their trials and they are not present yet in the Map Chamber when Rookwood explains what the ancient magic hotspots are so it’s unclear if they really know about those or what they are. It’s just Charles and Percival! Always just those two! At the center of everything that does not make sense about the Keeper’s path! The only two Keepers that for sure knew about the repository under Rookwood Castle. The only two we know for sure used the "whispers-of-pain" kind of ancient magic in their trial in the form of inter-dimensional portals. And the only two Keepers that were present at the very end when finalizing the path for the MC to follow by hiding the container and leaving their memory in the Gringotts pensieve. Why were Niamh and San not present that day? Why always just those two?

And to all of this evidence, your honor!, I add even more!

Isidora's warning

Isidora wrote "Percival is hiding something" on the boards of the Undercroft.

Did she know that Percival was looking into the pain-removing magic he had forbidden her to use? Was Percival doing some other secret ancient magic experiments unbeknownst to the other Keepers?

Remember Isidora’s paranoia in her seventh journal entry? Her leaving a trail to follow, a path for others to learn as if her days were counted and she soon would be unable to pass on her knowledge herself? Well that would certainly explain that! If she knew some dangerous secret about Percival she might have feared that he would discover that she knew and come after her. Percival might even have mind-wiped her father as a way to plant evidence against her, and to give the other Keepers a strong enough motivation to move against her with him.

And, lastly, I bring to the stand: Niamh!

Niamh's warning

It always struck me that Niamh’s lesson during her trials applied just as much to the Keepers as it applied to Isidora. She says:

"But there is no light without shadow as there is no shadow without light. Simply because you can eliminate darkness does not always mean that you should."

Of course, we all understand how it applies to Isidora: she saw people suffering and sought to remove that pain (i.e., darkness) but did not anticipate the consequences of that. Because, as one of the writers for HL puts it: "If you take someone’s pain away, what do they feel? Can you really feel happy, then?" I think this is what we are supposed to take away from Niamh’s trial, as a first reading.

And yet, Niamh’s lesson also applies to what the Keepers did! There is no denying that ancient magic can be used for good, we see as much when the Keepers save Feldcroft from the drought using ancient magic. But when they saw ancient magic used for evil (i.e., Isidora using it to remove people’s pain without their consent, something that might be volatile soul-magic and that they think will have bad consequences and should not be done), what is their reaction? To take away ancient magic altogether! To seal it away, never to be used again by anyone! They removed the darkness entirely. But, as Niamh explains, without it the light (as in: the good that ancient magic can do) dissapears too! In that respect, in the context of the narrative of HL, Niamh’s lesson applies more strongly to the Keepers’ actions than to Isidora’s because we do not actually see any "light" that Isidora’s action has taken away. It is implied several times that taking someone’s pain away could have negative consequences but we are never shown these consequences. (The only negative effect we see is Isidora’s father’s complete mind-wipe but, in my theory, this did not actually happen because of Isidora’s actions). We are, however, clearly shown the consequence of ancient magic disappearing from the world because we have clear exemples of the good it could do (saving a village from a drought or all the protection charms that Hogwarts offers).

But what does any of that have to do with my theory? Niamh also says during her trial: "nothing is what it seems". She even says this two times! Once at the very beginning of her trial and once at the end when we are walking through the mourners before we get to her tomb. And, as I’ve already explained in that post, I don’t get what she means by this because her trial is actually pretty straightforward. There’s nothing hidden. There’s no plot twist or huge revelation. But what if she was trying to warn the MC about the Keepers (specifically Percival and Charles)? What if she had realized, at the end of her life, that Percival and Charles were hiding something? Or what if she disagreed with their decision to seal ancient magic away entirely and suspected they had hidden motives to do that? (Such as keeping all the power of ancient magic, including the "whisper-of-pain" magic, to themselves?) She might have been afraid to go against Percival and Charles herself (especially if she knew they had been playing around with repository-magic from the secret repository under Rookwood Castle and were therefore more powerful than her) so she instead tried to sneak a warning to the next person coming along with the ability to wield ancient magic, to encourage them to not take everything at face value and to not blindly trust what Percival and Charles were telling them.

(And if I add to all of this my theory that Niamh is a time-traveler, I argue that she could have come back in the future (after Percival and Charles had already died and could not interfere with her actions anymore) and actually modified her trial to include this warning to the MC.)

Concluding remarks

Okay. So, that was a lot I just unloaded here. Let’s take a step back a little bit. My theory is, of course, not the only explanation for what happened to Isidora’s father.

There is a possibility that Isidora’s spell does not immediately empty people of emotions but that it happens over time. Maybe the spell opens something, creates some kind of leak and they progressively loose themselves. Her father is the first person we see her use the spell on and maybe that’s why he is the first one to get the empty eyes. Perhaps Niamh ended up just like him after some time. Isidora may have hid what was happening to her father and she was already too far in to walk back or admit that she was wrong, even after realizing her spell was not working and basically killing those she wanted to help. It could explain why she gave into the madness towards the end. But that would mean that all the students she used the spell on also ended up completely empty of emotions. Surely, if a bunch of Hogwarts students ended up as soul-less husks as a result of Isidora’s actions we would have heard about it? The Keepers would mention it, if only to even more strongly illustrate the danger of Isidora’s spell. Or someone would remember that episode form Hogwarts' history.

It’s also possible that, even when well controlled, the pain-removing spell, when used too often, would still end up wiping someone’s mind. Isidora, seing that her father was not getting better even after she removed his pain (because what could her father feel once his pain was taken away? how to fill the emotional void of all the years he spent in deep depression?) just used the spell again and again, hoping each time for a different result, until it was too much, her father was completely gone and she succumbed to madness. But I wonder then why the writers did not explicitely state that this is what happened. This could have added to the emotional weight of Isidora’s tragic story. Why leave the whole thing so vague?

And even if we find an alternative explanation for Isidora’s father’s fate, that still leaves open all the other questions I brought up: the unprotected repository under Rookwood Castle, the whispers of pain heard in the Keepers’ magic, Isidora’s inscription, Niamh’s cryptic warnings.

But, I’m sure many of you will have other ideas about what could have happened and how to resolve all these little mysteries! So please do come and argue with me!

Tl;dr because that was a very long post: I argue that Isidora couldn’t have been the one to mind-wipe her father. She had already experienced loosing her grasp on the pain-removing spell and completely wiping someone’s mind and she had found how to avoid such a consequence and I find it unlikely that she would have relapsed like this, especially with someone like her father that she very much cared about. So I argue that another person who could wield ancient magic wiped Isidora’s father’s mind through a badly executed pain-removing spell and the one who had the strongest motive to do so is none other than Percival Rackham!

[bonefall]

I'm sitting and looking at somebody's take about the scene of Willow Tail's death

"Clear Sky is fabulous here, and the deaths look karmic. Willow Tail dies blind bc she was so blinded by her wish of revenge she put innocent cats under threat and led to deaths of a medicine cat and an innocent kit. And Wind Runner, who prevented Moth Flight from saving Tiny Branch, lost a life to an injured leg just like he did. Beautiful."

Ig I'll just leave it here like a tribute

"the deaths look karmic" is the only correct thing in this passage. Yes, the writers ARE obsessed with punishing women, gruesomely zooming in on how much pain and suffering they're feeling when those horrible bitches finally get their comeuppance. Glad they can at least recognize torture porn when they see it.

Go one baby step further-- why do the writers keep choosing to frame the women as primarily responsible when Clear Sky is the same violent, egotistical tyrant he always was?

Willow Tail does die blinded-- by Clear Sky. The way he is constantly brutalizing every woman and foreigner in front of him. Just like how he was smacking Moth Flight before he ordered Red Claw to go up into the tree to beat the shit out of Micah and confiscate medicine, because he doesn't care when people die of treatable illness.

But, sure. Sure, it's Willow Tail who caused the death of Micah, when she sees Moth Flight's face sliced open by a known serial murderer and jumps to her defense, and then learns that Red Claw has been ordered to attack a doctor.

For those who haven't read Moth Flight's Vision, btw, Willow Tail is revealed to be the villain all along because she was planting rabbit bones on the border. This made Clear Sky mad because Wind Runner said "make your cats respect the borders YOU invented, bc MY cats didn't eat those rabbits" and she didn't just accept his answer of "nuh uh."

That's why it's totally the WOMEN'S fault that Clear Sky was throwing this tantrum, and not his own. Being offended is a totally valid reason to deny medical treatment and do assault and battery. Why would you ever hold a man in a position of power accountable for his own actions?

Wind Runner also didn't kill Tiny Branch through medical neglect. Clear Sky did. Can't believe I'm still saying this.

HE was the one who prevented Acorn Fur from getting help. He keeps insisting that he never needed Micah or any other foreigner to heal Tiny Branch's ailments. He didn't want Micah when it was a cough, and he didn't want Moth Flight when it was a fox attack.

-Said in the Sap Confiscation Scene

-Said as Tiny Branch is dying, confirming that yes, he DID stop her from getting the help right away.

Wind Runner PROPOSED an embargo at a meeting that SkyClan was absent for, AFTER Clear Sky had already insisted on denying medical treatment to Rocky and got Micah killed. Wind Runner's hypothetical embargo was broken less than a minute later when it's revealed SkyClan was late by several hours because Tiny Branch got attacked by a fox.

Here's how long they're held up by Wind Runner, though. All 214 words, less than a full page in dialogue, of it.

How long would you guess this took? Was everyone here speaking at 0.025 speed? Did someone hit the slow motion button? Were they escaping out of a time bubble?

Why's Shattered Ice never mentioned as killing Tiny Branch, btw? The one who actually did physically hold up Moth Flight (but not the other three Medicine cats, Dappled Pelt, Cloud Spots, and Pebble Heart), even if it was for less than 30 seconds? When he's not even from Wind Runner's Clan? CURIOUS INNIT?

I need to remind you that he was also responsible for preventing Acorn Fur from being fully trained. That was HIS choice. HE closed the border. HE stopped Moth Flight from completing Acorn Fur's training. HE is in the middle of a book-length hissy fit about being told what to do.

And, yet, Moth Flight is held up for less than 5 minutes after Clear Sky forced Acorn Fur to save his son alone until signs of infection set in, and this is all Wind Runner's fault.

So he later kidnaps Moth Flight, expecting Wind Runner to just trust that THIS time he takes a hostage he's not starving them like he did to Jackdaw's Cry, and not launch the two Clans into war. Redemption arc, btw.

And then he gets to be framed like a hero even though he is 100% responsible for every single one of his actions and escalated the situation at every turn. ZERO consequences for him, because him letting his own baby suffer and die was "punishment enough."

The bloodthirsty tyrant, child abuser, woman beater, and known liar was totally justified because It Made Him Sad When Wind Runner Didn't Trust His Word :( This was all actually an evil, scheming woman's fault for planting bunny bones, lol. So she totally deserves getting her eyes ripped out.

At MOST, the narrative considers Wind Runner and Clear Sky "Equally Bad", but only Wind Runner and Willow Tail get personally punished. With death and agony. Surely, SURELY this is not because of writer misogyny? In the Arc of 7 Fridgenings? Perish the thought.

Anyway, glad that I've curated my dash enough to not see that take out there in the wild. Who would even write something so ridiculous, Gray Wing?

[gaysindistress]

Fine Line

summary: Forgetting his first love is easier said than done as memories of his best girl are the only things that Steve thinks about during the days leading up to his wedding. Not once did he think of Peggy even as she walked down the aisle or when they were pronounced husband and wife or when she refused to let him go throughout the celebrations. He hoped that with time she would leave his every waking thought but time would prove to be a cruel mistress and would not grant him such luxuries. A decade and one failed marriage later, she still hasn’t left his mind.

pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

warnings: angst, the feels

word count: 3.3k 

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom​

Dial Drunk - part 2 & Cocaine Jesus - part 3

a/n: SURPRISE! I’m not fully back but I missed you guys so I’m giving you Fine Line early. Everything else will resume on 7/7 like planned. Also I’m torn between making this a series or keeping it as a one shot. What are y’all thinking? 

masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Falling in love was supposed to be the greatest accomplishment for a person. The rush of emotion, the butterflies in one’s stomach, the flush when one’s lover is near, the feeling of complete joy and fulfillment. Falling in love was supposed to be the happiest moment in one’s life. It’s meant to last forever, the eternity that a couple walks on this earth. It’s meant to persevere through any and all hardships that life throws in their way and strengthen the bond they share. Love, true love in its purest form, is meant to be the greatest healing force that nature has to offer and will provide a couple with an endless supply of cures for any ailment. Love is the one thing that people seek out the most in any and all forms but the love that is found in the arms of a lover is the most sought-after. Love is meant to be a good thing until it is not. 

When love sours and turns into resentment, hatred, pain, and angst, it destroys. It becomes the ruination of once strong and powerful people. It becomes a weakness that anyone can expose, one that anyone can exploit when needed. When love fades away into nothingness, the hole that is left is permanent. It will never be filled, will never shrink, will never heal. The hole that loves leaves is a stark reminder of what was meant to be and what actually happened. It’s filled with what-ifs and theories of what could’ve been, questions left unanswered and will continue to go unanswered. When love is lost, the two lovers change and something new becomes of them. In the case of Steve Rogers, an entirely new man was forged from the fires of lost love. 

At barely 22, he was faced with a decision he’d hoped would never come. Being the son of a crime boss and the natural next pick to lead, it was his duty to pick a suitable partner to support him when his time came. Of course, some standards and stipulations accompanied his decision but he quickly learned that there was a predetermined pick already in place. He had no choice, no free will to decide his own future, and with that, he would have to leave behind the love he had known since they were children. 

“You can’t be serious, Dad,” Steve’s hands shook with anger as he held back the urge to smash something, anything at all. 

“The Carters are very good friends of ours and Peggy is a sweet girl. She’ll make for a lovely wife,” Joseph Rogers, the current leader of the Rogers crime syndicate, explains while not batting an eye at his son’s aggression and continues to eat the roast his wife made. 

“You can’t just force me into this. Mom,” he turns to Sarah who is sitting quietly at the kitchen table, “please there has to be something else, anything else.”

She only shakes her head, eyes downcast on the dark wood of the table where they’d been eating dinner as a family moments ago. Joseph spares her a very brief glance to ensure that she isn’t going to give in to her son’s pleas for help. 

“What’s done is done. You will marry Peggy Carter at the end of the week and that is the end of this conversation. I do not want to hear another word about it, am I clear?” The authority in his tone forces both his wife and son into a quick nod and ‘yes sir’ as the only other sounds that fill the room are those of him cutting the meat on his plate. 

Another stern look from his father has Steve returning to his seat but not without one last question, “What about…”

Joseph slams his hand on the table, rattling nearly everything and everyone as he cuts Steve off, “I said not another word and as for that girl, you will break it off and forget about her.”

Easier said than done as the thought of his best girl and leaving her are the only things that he thinks about during the days leading up to his wedding. Not once did he think of Peggy even as she walked down the aisle of the grand catholic church in her expensive white gown or when he briefly pressed his lips against hers as they were pronounced husband and wife or when she refused to let him go throughout the celebrations. Not once did Steve stop thinking of his true beloved his entire wedding day or night when he begrudgingly commenced their marriage. He hoped that with time she would leave his every waking thought but time would prove to be a cruel mistress and would not grant him such luxuries. 

She inhabited every corner of his mind for the next 15 years and nothing could shake the memory of her tear-stricken face when he told her that they were done. To spare her the real pain of the truth, he lied and said that he had been seeing Peggy the entire time they were together. Whether or not a cheating revelation was really better than an arranged marriage was lost on him and he regretted every word the moment they slipped out. Of course, she hadn’t believed him, he would never do something so horrible as cheating on her. She knew him better than that, she knew him better than he knew himself so lying to her would never be successful. Yet she accepted it and didn’t pry any further, knowing that if he was lying, there was clearly something far worse happening. 

He watched all love drain from her face and tears wet her skin when the lies filled her head. Everything they had built together over the last year had been ruined with two sentences; It’s over. I’ve been cheating on you with Peggy and we’re getting married. 

15 years later and only God knows he would be able to make up for those lost years and cruel parting words. Rain storms around him and soaked his thick black outer coat as he stands in front of the blue door. The thunder drowns out the sound of his blood pulsing in his ears as nerves start to take over him. Should he really be here? Would she open the door for him? Hell did she even live here anymore? All sorts of questions scatter any rational thought he has. However lucky for him, the door opens and reveals her standing there and everything completely leaves his brain at the sight. 

“What are you doing here?” her voice is calloused and devoid of all emotion as she stares up at him. 

“H… Hi,” he stutters, his chest constricting as it works to breathe. In and out, in and out. 

“What are you doing here?” she repeats. 

“Can I come in?”

“It depends. Is someone dead or are you just here to reminisce?”

His hand strays from his pocket to scratch the back of his neck, an old nervous habit his father had tried to break for years. 

“Either way, I don’t want you here so leave,” she says, going to close the door on him and everything that might blossom from this moment but the stray hand blocks that from happening. 

“Please, I just want to talk.”

“No. Just go,” she tries again to push on the wood alas she is no match for the strength he has built up over the years and she lets out a defeated sigh. 

“5 minutes. That’s all I ask.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

The smile she had only dreamt of for years finally becomes real again as it stretches across his short stubble covered face, “Not a chance in hell, honey.”

The woman steps back but only enough for him to squeeze past and invade her no longer safe space. She knew when the sleek silver car pulled up that any sense of safety would go. His showing up at her front door made her a target for any and all of his enemies after she’d spent years trying to erase any memory or sign of him from her life. 

He glances around the room, taking in every detail it had to offer from the various books that lined the brick walls to the pictures of family and friends on the countertops. One, in particular, halts him. It’s a small polaroid from the first night they’d since each other since childhood tucked into the corner of a mirror that’s amidst the books. In it are two much younger versions of them smiling drunkenly with fireworks in the background. 

It had been the fourth of July the year he moved back from college. Sarah, his mother, insisted that they throw a late welcome home of July party since this was the first time in four years he had been back. The college had been an escape from the greed and foulness of his father’s world but his tranquility had to be shattered when he was presented with the prophecy of him taking the Rogers family business. Sure he knew it was going to happen but being faced with the reality of it proved to be too much for him. He’d spent the afternoon sneaking away to take shots in between his beers because he needed to be drunk to not remember a thing to survive this night. 

It was probably around the 5th secret shot when his sweet honey had shown up, stumbling upon him looking for the bathroom. There she stood in her cutoff Levi shorts and white tank top that showed off the red bikini top she’d worn to the lake earlier. He should’ve heard her coming down the hallway given that she was wearing flip-flops but the deafening effect of the alcohol must’ve kicked in. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she stutters, frozen with embarrassment, “I’m sorry but where is the bathroom?”

Coughing from nearly choking on his shot, he wipes at his mouth both physically and metaphorically, “Um it’s across the hall.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she whispers while closing the door. 

“Wait how do you know my name?” his voice halts her and she cringes when she hears it. 

“Oh uh… I guess you don’t recognize me,” she says, pushing her hair back, “I’m Y/N L/N.”

“Oh, OH,” it suddenly all clicks into place and he feels immensely guilty for all of the thoughts that had run through his head, “I should’ve known. It’s been uh… a crazy week.” “It’s all good. I’m sure your parents have paraded you around like a circus animal. Ya know, the prodigal son returns and all,” the sound of far-off laughter has her checking over her shoulder, “Anyways I should go. It was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah it was nice seeing you too,” he trails off, too caught up gawking at how short her cutoffs were and how if anyone dared to look her way, he’d been cut their eyes out. 

He’d made it his mission that night to watch over her and make sure that no one got close to her. Of course, this was unbeknownst to her and any attractive guy that showed up quickly disappeared, refusing to even go near her. About 4 guys in, she’d spotted the reason for her bad luck leaning against the sliding glass door with his arms crossed over his chest. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes from behind his sunglasses, she could tell by the way his jaw was set that his death glare had scared off any and all men that approached her. 

“Is there a reason why you’re ruining my chances at finding a guy?” she asked him as she came to stand at his side. 

He briefly glanced at her from the corner of his eye before readjusting his arms tighter over his chest, straining his white button-down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally settled on but she doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing and I want to know why.”

“And what do you think I’m doing?” “Being a bitch and not asking me out yourself so you’re resorting to giving everyone the stare-down.”

He scoffed at the suggestion but deep down he knew that she was right.

“The fact that you didn’t even try and defend yourself proves I’m right so are you going to man up or pout?”

“I’m not pouting,” he tried to defend himself but it was too late and she gives him an annoyed look, “Want to go inside?”

She pushed off the door, took his hand in hers, and dragged him inside, “I thought you’d never ask.”

She clears her throat, drawing his attention back to the present and he hesitantly looks at her through the mirror. She doesn’t look exactly pleased that he had seen the last photo she’d held onto but she doesn’t let her bothered attitude show and gestures for him to sit at the kitchen island. 

“Why are you here?” she asks him while getting things to make iced coffee. “I wanted to see how you were,” he lies, taking a seat in the tall wicker chair she’d thrifted a few months before. 

“You had 15 years to do that. Why are you really here?”

“We got divorced.”

She freezes for a moment but continues to make herself a cup and offers him one. He shakes his head, awaiting her response. 

“Oh?” is all that comes out of her as the rain drones on outside. 

“It had been a long time coming.”

“I’m sorry,” her body language tells another story that is the opposite of her words. The indifference is clear as she passes him a cup made to his exact preference anyways. Feeling his bright blue eyes burning holes into her skull, her own eyes flicker up and meet his, “You can’t expect me to care. You cheated on me with her and dumped me the same week you married her.”

“No, you’re right. I shouldn’t expect you to feel bad for me,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. 

“But here you are; showing up at my house and begging me to open the door to what? Talk? Talk about what? You didn’t come here just to tell me that so what is it?” she pries, leaning against the sink behind her to keep as much distance as she can between them. 

He takes a sip and savors the thought that she absentmindedly put into it before answering her question, “I wanted to set things straight.”

She merely raises an eyebrow but allows him to keep talking. 

“My dad arranged my marriage to Peggy and forced me to break it off with you. It was… I never…. I never cheated on you.”

Eyeing him from her place, she takes a long drink from her cup to think over his revelation. Half of her laughs at him and how stupid he must be if he thinks she is really going to believe that. The other part tenses at the idea that maybe they could have been together after all if they had run away like they planned. 

“I lied because I thought it would be easier than telling the truth but it made everything worse and I’m sorry, honey.” 

“Sorry doesn’t change anything regardless if you lied or not. Now you’ve said what you needed to, so leave,” she tells him, pointing at the door with the cup in her hand. He can see the scar on her hand from when she broke through a window after she’d locked herself out trying to sneak back in. A smile breaks onto his face which frustrates her even more. 

“Really, Steve, you need to go.”

“Is this it? Is this how it ends?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

He holds up his left hand in his defense and the carved-out space where his wedding band once sat causes her breath to hitch slightly. 

“I’ve spent the last 15 years thinking about YOU and what we could’ve had. You can’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind at least once?”

She drops her gaze to her cup, unable to look at him and the anguish clear on his beautiful features, “What does it matter? It didn’t happen. You got your perfect life and I had to make my own way.”

“You were always a part of what I wanted my life to look like and what I got with Peggy was all fake. I never wanted her or any of it for a second, I just wanted you,” the lull of his voice tempts her to look up again but if she does that, she’ll break. She can only imagine the way his brows pull together from stress or how his jaw clenches to stop the emotions from overtaking his senses. She can only imagine how he’d slowly blink with that sad smile of his when she would make eye contact or how he’d lower his voice to say her name in the softest tone he could manage. 

“Go.”

“Honey please look at me.”

“Go,” she tries a little louder, her grip on the cup growing tighter as she struggles to keep her composure.

“Look at me first.”

“Go,” she says one more time, “Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go” 

Each go grows more and more desperate as her composure slips away from her and everything she’s suppressed from the night he left comes rushing to the surface as lava does when its volcano starts to erupt. The cup shatters under her death grip, sending pieces of glass and iced coffee everywhere. Neither of them flinch at the sound, having grown used to much worse noises thanks to his business. However, the dam within breaks, and tears slip down her nose as she spaces out on the wreckage of her anger at her feet. Steve quietly stands from the island and gathers her into his arms, pulling her away from the mess on the floor. She doesn’t fight it, wrapping her arms around his bicep as she cries into it. The comforting words he whispers into her hair go unheard but she can feel the rumble of his voice in her chest and that provides all the comfort her body craves. 

Feelings of fulfillment and joy fill him as he finally holds her in his arms again but it doesn’t last long when she starts to speak. 

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t have come here.” He pulls away a little to look down at her, “I don’t understand.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she repeats for the third time, “Things were different when we were kids but we’re grown now and too much has happened. You’ve done too much, I’ve done too much for us to be together. This won’t work.”

“We weren’t kids though,” disbelief fills his voice with uncertainty causing it to wobble. 

“Yes we are,” she persists, “You were 22 and I was barely 18. We were stupid to think it was anything more than a fling.”

“A fling?” he drops his arms from her and takes a staggered step back as if she shoved him. 

She turns her back to him to spare herself the look of utter hurt he wears, “Please. Just go.”

Receding footsteps mix in with the rain as he does what she asked and leaves. Her front door slams shut and the shutter shakes the house as well as her. Dropping down to her knees on the sticky floor, the tears fall now like a tidal wave and the sobs rack through her body as she blindly tries to clean up the glass shards. 

Love is not meant to feel this way.

[icespur]

DadGoro Navigator Quotes Help

5/2: update: replaced some paragraphs with the originals in my Google Doc, Including some example quotes I came up with

originally I had a concept I was going to post about "Teen Akeshu Daughter from the future gets sent to the past during P5R", but I got preoccupied.

She tries to play matchmaker to get Akiren and Akechi on the right path. But she also can't risk revealing who she is, Akechi and Akiren don't know what to think of her. To them, she comes across as an unhinged Akechi fan that ships him with the Phantom Thief Leader for some reason, and is from the future, and looks like a mix of both of them if they squint real hard.

Akechi especially finds her irritating, and finds her very selective sharing of who she is very suspicious, and isn't buying her surname being “Akagi”. His detective senses are ringing like sirens that “🚨 THIS FUTURISTIC BITCH IS SUSPICIOUS AS FUCK! SHE’S CLEARLY NOT BEING TRUTHFUL IN THE SLIGHTEST, DO NOT TRUST, ALSO HIGHLY ANNOYING AND EVASIVE, MUST KEEP WATCH OF SUSPICIOUS TEENAGER! 🚨

So when Komari joins the Phantom Thieves in battle, and the rare instance where Akechi briefly takes over as Navigator, he especially makes his irritation of her known and just how much he doesn't give a shit what happens to her in battle.

("Akagi" is her "undercover" surname)

“Akagi-san’s health is down. Heal her I guess~” 

“What a tragedy, Akagi-san has perished.” 

“Oh, Akagi-san is fully healed and ready to continue to grace us with her presence~”

“Akagi-san has been incapacitated. Can't say I'm surprised.” 

But once he finds out she's his future daughter—-

Granted,the fact that he’s destined to eventually have intercourse that leads to knocking up his rival is—-alot to take in—-. but this is his daughter. His future flesh and blood, he—oh he feels like such a piece of shit 🤦. Curse his trust issues and natural skepticism, he was a fucking dick, how is he going to fix this? 

The “Daughter Reveal” makes him take a 180 in his behavior towards her. Something just clicks and “Fuck this annoying suspicious little shit.” Turns into “I've only known Komari for a couple of months, but if anything were to happen to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” With zero warning. 

I am thou,

thou art I, 

Protective Dad Akechi has awakened! 

Komari becomes number 1 priority in battle, and he’ll freak out if she gets injured or inflicted with an ailment. He demands Joker to immediately help her like the whole world will implode in on itself if he doesn't. Other teammates or enemy strengths and weaknesses be damned, Komari is important. 

and this shows especially in battle.

The first time Komari gets severely injured in battle, Akechi practically teleports to her side and catches her in his arms. “JOKER, YOU BETTER HAVE A FULL HEAL ITEM ON HAND, USE ONE OF THOSE WEIRD DRUGS FROM TAKEMI-SENSEI YOU BOUGHT, HURRY! YOU'RE NOT LOOKING FAST ENOUGH YOU ONLY HAVE TWO POCKETS IN THAT COAT, HOW COULD YOU MISPLACE IT?! THE LONGER YOU TAKE FAILING TO FIND IT THE CLOSER MARI-CHAN GETS TO THE AFTERLIFE, ARE YOU THIS UNPREPARED AND USELESS WHEN THE REST OF YOUR TEAM IS IN DANGER?!” 

“You stay with me, don't you dare close those eyes, you are not dying on us. You're strong, you can get through this—-JOKER, HURRY THE FUCK UP!” 

Tears streaming down face while still yelling “PAPA’S HERE, I’M NOT LEAVING YOU, once your IDIOTIC FATHER finally heals you you’ll be all better.” 

In the scenario where Komari and another party member is low on health, Akechi ignores them. 

Ryuji speaks up faintly “Uh, hey. Hate to interrupt your guys' very understandable panic–but any chance you could throw me a full heal too?” 

Akechi growls back “Walk it off, Sakamoto-kun, this isn’t about you!” 

Just----the complete 180 from:

"Oh, what an absolute tragedy, Akagi-San has died, tip your masks in respect everyone. She will be sorely missed, if only we had a revival on hand~"

To:

!

"MY BABY!

JOKER, GET THE REVIVAL ITEM, HEAL HER, HURRY HURRY, GET IT OUT FASTER, OUR PRINCESS IS FADING, ARE YOU THIS USELESS WHEN YOUR OTHER TEAMMATES ARE IN NEED OF HEALING?!

when infected with ailment, Akechi and Joker immediately tag team her with the feather fans to bitch slap the ailment away.

Akechi or Joker always perform a followup attack when she's having her turn in battle.

After a successful battle and if Komari's Persona levels up and gains a new ability, the in-game dialogue would be Proud Dad Akechi complimenting and drawing attention to it. Pretty much a more aggressive version of Prince attire Akechi leveling up. “Everyone, look! I gained a new ability. :) “ 

A couple example dialogues I came up with:

“Hey, everyone pay attention, what, were you all raised in a barn? Mari-chan gained a new ability.” 

“JOKER LOOK!---” Physically forces Joker's head to face Komari and her Persona (Even though he was already looking). “MARI GAINED A NEW ABILITY! HER STATS WENT UP AND EVERYTHING, SHE’S GETTING SO STRONG, MAYBE EVEN STRONGER THAN US, WE CREATED SUCH  AN UNSTOPPABLE BADASS YOUNG LADY AIIISTRHGHGJFGHSSGNSKJS.”

“I’m already looking.”

“THEN FUCKING SAY SOMETHING, NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE SELECTIVELY MUTE!”

.............

“My future princess is turning more and more into a powerful badass with every new ability 🥲🥹. Ahem I mean—-oh, Komari-chan earned a new skill, ooo, that’s a good one.” 

..............

“AHAHA! NOW YOU CAN MAKE YOUR ENEMIES QUIVER BEFORE YOU EVEN MORE! MAKE US PROUD.” 

................

Then, a friend mentioned dialogue for other battle actions like Baton Pass and Ailments that I didn't even think of!

So I'm going to have you fellow Akeshu fans participate because I'm having trouble coming up with more Proud Dad Akechi dialogue.

Write some dialogue reactions for Akechi if his and Akiren's daughter was a playable party member.

(you don't have to fill out all these sections. Just, if you come up with a line for one of the below actions, reply or reblog with it and once I get enough participants I'll make another post.

Akechi/Crow: passes Baton to Komari: 

Crow/Black Mask response to Komari Attack Quotes:

Komari Dodges Attack: 

Komari Downs an enemy: 

Double Enemy Down: 

Down all enemies: 

Defeats an enemy: 

Defeats two enemies:

Defeats last Enemy:

Attack miss or Skill miss:

HP at 25% at start of turn:

Affected by Tarunda/Attack Decrease:

Affected by Rakunda/Defense Decrease:

Affected by Sukunda/Speed Decrease: 

Suffering from Shock:

Suffering from Freeze:

Suffering from Brainwash:

Suffering from Despair:

Suffering from Forget:

Suffering from Confuse:

Suffering from Rage:

Downed:

Recovers from being downed:

Incapacitated:

[itsmoving]

uuuhhhh medical malpractice below the cut btw wabughhhh and gore and surgeryyy

I got CARRIED AWAYYYY BYEEEE

hi I would LOVE to be someone's (many peoples actually) little fucked up doctor By The Way. playing the part of a sweet medical professional only interested in the betterment of your health, but of course that's not really the case.

You've been having pains in your hand and wrist? Oh dear, it's good you came to the clinic so soon! I'll patch you up, good as new, poor thing.

Having you take a seat in a chair for surgery and taking a seat opposite you while you're upright. Feeling along your wrists, palms, fingers, working gently and applying pressure- checking for where it hurts and making sure to press the hardest in the places you tell me it hurts most just to hear you whine.

I lean your chair back slightly and ready you for a deeper examination, I'll spare you the anthroplasty job as much as the thought excites me. No, these pains are simply sore muscles that will fade with time and a few hand exercises, but you knew what to expect when you came here with an ailment.

I'm ever so curious about your hands, I can't stop watching how they twitch and writhe, your visible heartbeat at multiple points where your veins are so delightfully close to the surface. I only want a closer look today, nothing fancy. Hell, you were so good during the first half, I'll let you have some anaesthesia. I find my patients are happiest after getting a treat, after all.

Once your hand is thoroughly numbed, I press and prod with first my fingers, then my fingernails around your wrist, before I start my incisions with my scalpel, completely free-hand. I know I don't have long before the anaesthetic will lose its potency, so I work somewhat faster than I usually would without numbing.

First, I look at your radial artery in your wrist, watching how it throbs and twitches. I run my free hand down its length and smile at you. It would mean so much to me to sever that artery, but why would I punish such a sweet thing who's been so co-operative?

I spend the next few minutes opening and sewing shut little holes in the thin flesh of you hands, with my last stop being at your knuckles.

I can see by the way you're starting to squirm a lot more in your seat that the pain is slowly coming back to you, that or you're loving the sight as much as I am. They're such cute little bones, I'm sure the joints between the medial and distal phalanges are much cuter, but the largest ones I can only think would make such an adorable pendant.

I'm shaken from my thoughts as you tap my shoulder lightly. Our time has run out, it seems. I sew you up and offer you some pain killers to take while your new stitches heal up. I'm about to dismiss you before I stop, thinking about how I had gone over the promised time and put you through some unnecessary pain. so, I let you pick a second treat- a piece of candy of your choice.

Before you leave, I take your stitch-spangled palm into my hand and etch a small mark above your index knuckle with a marker pen. That one's mine.

So you leave my clinic, new sutures, and a piece of candy richer. I await your next visit with the patience of a saint. my favourite little patient never fails to disappoint.