#I feel completely healed of all ailments.

[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!

[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.

[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.

[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.”

[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.

[mlb-a-rewrite]

A Guide to Kwamis and How to Kill Them

(okay I lied it’s not entirely about how to kill them, that part is simple. I go over that as well as expand upon Kwamis and their abilities)

Also warning, there is discussion of death and terminal illness here. It stays very factual but just putting a warning regardless.

Kwamis and their miraculous are completely indestructible… until they aren’t. Like you can’t throw a miraculous at the wall or crush it to break it and you can’t stab or strangle a kwami to kill it. The only way to kill a kwami is to break its miraculous and the only way to break a Miraculous is with another Miraculous.

First ring miraculous can destroy any other miraculous entirely on their own, whether it be a second ring or another first ring. If three second ring Miraculous are used together, they can destroy a first ring or another second ring miraculous. Using three second-ring miraculous together either means one person is wielding 3 miraculous simultaneously or three different users all combine their powers to destroy it. Honestly, I don’t really know what that means atm lol. (Just to be overly clear, it could also be that one person has one miraculous and another person has two, that will also work to destroy it but it feels a bit redundant to say that). You could have 3 second ring Miraculous from 3 different miracle boxes and use them to destroy a first ring Miraculous from a 4th miracle box. The origins of a miraculous do not matter, just their ranking.

When a miraculous is destroyed, it is gone forever and nothing can take its place (i.e. a new miraculous doesn’t form to replace it). The miraculous is destroyed and the kwami dies with it. You cannot repair a broken miraculous or revive a dead kwami. They are gone forever.

If a person is wearing a miraculous when the miraculous is destroyed, they become terminally ill. Their body functions rapidly fail, their bodies begin to decay and their mental processes slow. They could die in a few hours or a few weeks but no one lives past a month. Machines may be able to keep the body alive but they will be brain dead. There is no way to heal a holder who wore a destroyed miraculous either.

There is one unique property of first-ring miraculous that I should point out. To reiterate, each miracle box has a first-ring and this first ring is always comprise of 2 miraculous that represent opposing ideas. This way the powers are balanced. If one miraculous represents life, than the other death. If one represents innovation, the other tradition. They are opposing so they balance one another out.

If a first-ring miraculous is destroyed, than its counterpart becomes unbalanced. What this means is anyone who wears and uses the unbalanced miraculous will experience severe side effects. They may first experience cognitive issues, finding it difficult to remember things, process information, make plans, etc. or they might experience physical problems like unsteady hands, decreased coordination, muscle deterioration, etc. No one person will experience the same side effects, so people may experience severe emotional problems at first but see no real physical side effects, but the longer a person wears an unbalanced miraculous, the more the symptoms increase in both severity and number.

These side effects cannot be cured. A person might be able to work to lessen the severity of the symptoms effect on their life but they will always be there. If a person wears the miraculous too long these ailments will become lethal and result in their death.

Actively using a miraculous (i.e. transforming and using special abilities) will also speed up the rate at which the side effects progress.

Kwamis are also affected by this. If a kwami is tied to an unbalanced miraculous then they will experience psychological distress. They will have similar cognitive and emotional issues to those humans experience. A kwami is also likely to experience different issues than the holder of their miraculous. These symptoms will not kill a Kwami but they cannot recover from it either so they either live slowly getting worse or they die. (That got dark quick oops)

The (Dreaded) Magic System

This is the section where I overly specific about how miraculous work and the different parts of them. I also talk about changes I make to miraculous with specific references to the show.

Kwamis and Miraculous and Holders Oh My!

I believe that the parts of a miraculous and their functions are best explained through this analogy I came up with (that’s pretty amazing if I do say so myself).

The Kwamis are like a huge tank of water. Their power is the water and this power is tied to the concept they embody.But there is so much water they (Kwamis) can’t control it. If they try to pour a little bit of water out of the tank, it is going to overflow and a lot more water will come out than intended.

This is similar to how we see it in the show. Whenever Tikki or Plagg or other kwamis tried to use their powers on their own, there were huge consequences (multiple Eiffel towers forming, portals all over the world, etc.)

The Miraculous are a tap connected to the tank.They are the means of controlling the amount of water that is let out.

Miraculous themselves don’t really do anything. They contain no power themselves and can’t use the power. They just serve as a means to let others use the power.

Users are the person operating the tap. They control how much water is let out of the tank via the tap. At first, they only have two options, no water or yes water, but as they get older, more experienced/in tune with their Miraculous, mentally and physically stronger, they are able to have more variation and more control. As users improve, they are able to let more water out. They can choose how much water is let out and how quickly. They still can’t use all the power, they are still bound to the tap, but they can access more of it. Instead of a trickle, they can use the water like a hose or pressure washer. But they have to be in tune enough with the Miraculous and physically/mentally strong enough to do so

Additionally, a user’s body is like a water balloon and to use power from the Kwami, they need to fill themselves with water from the tap. At first, it is easy to fill the balloon with little issue, but if you fill it too much, the balloon gets easier and easier to pop. Eventually, there is so much water the balloon pops if it's even breathed on.

Users have physical limitations. Because they can only access a certain amount of water at a certain rate, they might overexert themselves and start using their own energy. If, for instance, Chat Noir wants to destroy a building with Cataclysm, he may not realize that he isn’t advanced enough with his miraculous and end up using his own energy. When he detransforms he will be incredibly exhausted, mentally and physically. In extreme cases, he might experience muscle loss and in extreme cases, he could die.

This puts limitations on abilities and thus, there are consequences. Ladybug can’t always magically repair everything.

Detransforming exists as a safety mechanism. When users are still newbies, they don’t understand how much they can take physically and mentally, so they will automatically detransform. As they get older, users can turn this off, but it becomes more dangerous. If someone is mentally stronger before they are physically and they let out too much water, their bodies could literally combust because it is too much. Vise versa, someone might be physically strong enough, but too afraid or too out of touch with their Kwami to let out any more water.

Kwamis and Kwamis and Kwamis and Kwamis and—

So now, with a user having two Miraculouses, they now have two Kwamis, which means they have two tanks. This, is dangerous, as you can assume, because that’s a fuck ton of water. Now the safety mechanism is still in place, but it is not designed for the use of multiple Miraculouses. Using multiple Miraculous at the same time, especially when you use multiple fancy powers at the same time, is detrimental to you. Maybe you can handle it for a little bit, but eventually, it will become too much and you could get severely injured or even die.

Connecting back to the earlier discussion about destroy a miraculous using 3 second-ring miraculous, it is possible that a single person could wear 3 second-ring miraculous and successfully destroy another miraculous, but that person will die pretty soon after.

And the whole Multiple Mouse thing where Marinette can use all the miraculous bc she multiplies wouldn't really work bc it's still her, just spread out. Like all the duplicates are her just inhabiting more space, so she would defo die in this world if she tried that.

Specific Changes

Powerups are dumb as hell. In the eloquent words of my friend, “Get shit on and written out.”

Powerups, like when they go to space or go underwater or ice skate or whatever are so ridiculously stupid and I'm getting rid of it entirely. 99% of the modifications that result from powerups are literally just costume changes, like that's it bro. We already know that the costumes change depending on the user and their “vision” for it, and so like, they could just manifest the costumes with ice skates for shoes or space helmets, they don’t need fancy food for that.

In the show the only actual “power up” I remember happening is during Syren when they can breathe underwater. That’s it. Everything else is a costume change and they are shown being able to use their weapons (the yo-yo and baton) as oxygen tanks which I think is a much more creative choice than powerups. 

So I’m changing it so that if they really want their costume to have swimming fins or jetpacks or whatever they can manifest it before they transform. But, like the third power, it is difficult to do and requires a lot of focus and emotional investment, this way they aren’t willy-nilly changing their costumes all the time. 

Once they transform and the modification is there, it will last without problems until the detransform. If they detransform and then transform, the costume will revert back to normal

I also like the idea of their weapons serving as a snorkel/oxygen tank. I think that’s a really fun use of their weapons and also provides another layer of restraint to battles. Idk I think it’s fun

Unification is whatever. I kinda talk about it earlier with the multiple kwamis stuff. Basically when someone wears multiple miraculous and undergoes unification, it becomes monumentally harder to use your powers and is more draining on your body. To go back to the analogies:

A user’s body is a balloon and to splash others with water (power) they must fill the balloon. With one tank of water, it’s easier to fill the water balloon, but with multiple tanks, it is hard to keep track of which is which. Which tank fills water fast and which slow? The user may accidentally turn on multiple taps at once, filling the balloon too fast and causing the balloon to burst.

The more tanks (miraculous), the more difficult it is to use any of the power without hurting yourself

So unification or whatever. I'm chill with it you know, like, it’s fine, I just think there needs to be more consequences associated with it.

Final tidbits

This is just more bits of clarification on Kwami/Miraculous nuances.

Miraculous concepts/powers can and do repeat across miracle boxes. The concept of creation and luck are not specific to one group of people, so there will be multiple Kwamis that encompass that idea, they just present that idea differently. 

Concepts repeat but the presentation of those ideas differs (like, the genes are the same but they present differently depending on the kwami/origin)

So one box might have a kwami/miraculous that represents death and it’s all about fear and destruction but another box might have a kwami/miraculous that represents death and it’s about remembrance, change, and progress. They are the same concepts, but are thought about differently and thus, will have different powers and what not.

Kwami visibility is also consistent. For some reason this being inconsistent in the show really bothered be so we changing that. 

Sometimes in the show, people without miraculous can see Kwamis no problem (kwamibuster, shang hai special, probably many more) and sometimes they cant (the origins episodes), so like, decide and make it consistent.

I think I’ve settled on all kwamis being visible to people wearing miraculous, so if Marinette is walking around with Tikki on her shoulder and then Adrien sees Tikki that’s an identity reveal right there. Since only people with miraculous can see kwamis, kwamis would have to hide all the time in public in order to protect Adrien and Marinette’s identities from one another. Like,  that's fun but whatever ends up happening KEEP IT CONSISTENT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE

Also I just headcanon that the outfits are different. Like Marinette likes fashion and she’s her wearing a polka dot morph suit is dumb because girl, I hate to break to you but you will never be a fashion designer wearing something that ugly. So instead I imagine her as like, one of those TikTok activewear influencers with the fancy skorts and like, a fun half-jacket poncho situation or something. The outfit still covers her fully because combat situations + exposed skin = nothing good. Also, please, why is Adrien in a skin-tight leather suit that's so sus considering they are CHILDREN.

In my head marinette has a tiny little circle cape that goes to her mid back that looks like ladybug wings and it could be part of a jacket or smth idk. I just think the cape would be a fun little touch. NO CAPES.

And Adrien is rocking like basic body armor. Kinda like Captain American kind of padding. He’s still emo and decked out in all black but it’s not all leather and it’s practical for fighting.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I got one the follower bishops with someone that they love dearly but when their love goes on a missionary quest by the lamb they return with similar injures to them ( leshy 's love get blinded' hetek's get their voice permanently damaged, kallamar's lose their ability to hear, and shamura's get brain damage.)and survive it. Sorry for the long ask btw it just been in my head for a while now.

It's okay! I don't mind the long ask ^^

...........

Leshy

During your most recent (and probably last) missionary, something went horribly wrong.

All you remembered was a bomb scout attacking you, when they accidentally dropped a bomb in the struggle. It killed them but sent shrapnel flying towards your face before everything went dark.

You thought for sure you were dead. But luckily Ratoo rescued you and brought you to the heart chamber, helping you heal up in the red pool.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to restore your sight, though he guided you back to the cult grounds anyways, informing Lamb of your condition.

Leshy heard your voice and abandoned his current task to run over to you, smelling your fear and anxiety.

He was utterly confused as you called out his name and grasped the air. Surely you would have seen him right there. You were looking at him!

Unless...

All he had to do was feel the scars around your face, realizing you couldn't see him at all. You have gone completely blind, just like him.

He immediately blames Lamb, wanting to put their head on a pike for sending you out on a missionary so ill-prepared.

However you insisted it wasn't their fault, telling him not to be so angry with them...and for once he listens to your pleas, opting to take care of you instead.

Until you're comfortable enough to navigate the cult grounds by yourself, don't expect Leshy to leave your side anytime soon.

You two might get matching blindfolds if Lamb deems it necessary to prevent infection (or if you're insecure about the wounds)

Heket

After retrieving some resources in Anchordeep, you returned to the cult grounds feeling okay, aside from a sore throat you got after unknowingly drinking contaminated water.

However Lamb insists you rest in the Medbay so you didn't spread anything and allowed you to be absent from sermons.

But they quickly realized that camelia tea, the "miracle cure" of all sicknesses, wasn't alleviating your ailment one bit.

In fact, by the end of the week..it had gotten to the point where it hurts too much for you to talk, your vocal cords having ultimately succumbed to the infection.

But you begged your leader not to tell Heket yet.

You've been her voice for so long. What would she think of you if you lost yours now?

Lamb respects your wishes, though it's difficult keeping her away from you as she demands to know what's going on.

You used to join her for meals every day...and now she feels quite lonely and doesn't know why or what she might've done.

Are you really that sick? Were you dying?

While Lamb's crusading, they had a follower guard the Medbay's entrance, but Heket easily shoves them aside so she can finally see you, asking what happened on your missionary.

You resort to writing how you lost your voice, feeling terrible about it as you knew this was entirely preventable.

But to your surprise, she's very reassuring and says you don't have to speak for her anymore, though she wishes you told her sooner. She was sad about you missing dinner with her :(

She's been reading a book on sign language (recovered from Silk Cradle by Lamb), promising to teach you so communication is easier.

The two most important phrases she wanted you to know are "I love you" and "are you hungry".

Shamura

Regardless of how you received brain damage (be it a serious concussion or your head getting split open like theirs), it's going to be a difficult and painful healing process.

Lamb, Shamura, and even you had no clue how you survived the journey back to the cult with blood pouring down your face...but your leader immediately treats your wounds and orders you to rest up.

Whenever the arachnid visits you, seeing your head wrapped in bandages just like them, it breaks their heart to see you such a state.

While their memories get jumbled up at times, the one thing they always remember is how much they loved you.

However, your own memories got so badly scrambled that all you could recall is the Shamura from before--as the Bishop of War--and you begged them not to kill you.

Lamb ordered them to leave the Medbay so you'd calm down, but they're quite devastated over the matter.

For days they could barely go near you without you staring at them in terror.

As much as it hurts, they don't blame you. Only the cruel person who made you (quite literally) lose your mind.

With time and help from the other ex-bishops, they'd slowly regain your trust and explain how you fell in love with them, speaking in rhymes and simple poetry.

Sometimes you'd still forget, but they'll do their best to remind you.

Just as you have always done for them.

Kallamar

You know how followers will sometimes ask Lamb to send other followers on missionary quests?

Welp, this happened with you..and Kallamar was rightfully outraged, trying to convince you not to go.

But you reassured him this journey will be good for your spirit, asking that he sent you off in the evening.

And he reluctantly does, giving you a crystal as protective "charm".

He spends the next 1-3 days anxiously awaiting your return.

When you do come back, you're alive but....not necessarily well.

He realizes this right away when he tries helping you get the bag off your shoulders, asking what happened and where you went.

Much to his confusion, you kindly ask if he could speak a bit louder.

It's not much longer after that when he realizes you've lost your hearing entirely.

If you became deaf due to a loud explosion leaving you with permanent damage, he wouldn't have suspected anything until Lamb confirms it.

If your ears got torn out in a similar fashion to his, he's going to notice that right away and freak tf out, bandaging what's left to the best of his ability.

He's convinced that one follower made Lamb send you away on purpose...and they get into a big argument that's only resolved by the fighting pit ritual.

Although you couldn't hear much of the cheering and shouting, you applaud Kallamar after he beats them up, happy he wanted to defend your honor.

[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:

[evaslytherpuff]

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Dark! Sebastian x Dark!Ominis x f!OC

18+ MINORS, DO NOT READ!!!

!Forced Poly Relationship!

(Characters are all 20+ years of age!)

CW: Angst, memories of traumatic events, memories of violent events, smut, P in V sex, oral MIreceiving, 3some, blood kink!, Stockholm Syndrome

If any of the above warnings may be triggering PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING!

Chapter 4

Vivian eventually found her way back to the opulent bedroom and was welcomed by the warmth and glow of the candlelight. Ominis was still sound asleep, his long toned limbs taking up the mattress, the only thing covering the lower half of his body was an emerald green sheet. She sat on the side of the bed and stared down at his serene face wondering what he may be dreaming about. Ominis was the only man she had met that could literally sleep anywhere. He would casually sleep in the halls at school, he would rest his head in her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair as he slept, he even passed out in her grandmother's tree unfortunately falling out of it where Sebastian had to catch him. She couldn't help but chuckle at that memory as she reached forward to brush his golden hair from his forehead. How could someone as beautiful as Ominis become so sinister? He looked so innocent and docile while he slept, his eyelashes resting on his high cheekbones, his breathing was soft and steady. Any witness would think this was just a loving and gentle moment between a man and his woman but Vivian was actually afraid of the being laid out before her. Who would she meet when he woke up, what side of him would she see? The side that was a hopeless romantic or the man who broke her wand without even thinking twice about it. She couldn't help herself and kept running her fingers through his hair, it was so soft as she smoothed it out. It felt as if she were in a trance and her eyes met his as they fluttered open. He looked up at her and almost seemed surprised to see her sitting on the edge of the bed. Then a smile that was so warm and welcoming spread across his delicate face.

"I want to wake up like this everyday." He said as he removed her hand from his head and began to kiss her fingertips. "Hello, Vivian." A look of pure joy formed on his gorgeous visage.

Without any notice or hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her into bed with him, burying his face in her mess of curls. He shifted so she was slightly laying on him, her face against his smooth chest. He then grabbed her thigh to bring her leg up over his body.

"Stay in bed with me. I want to feel you close to me. I woke up a bit earlier and noticed you were gone, so I sent Sebastian to look for you. I heard what happened in the kitchen, here, let me see." He maneuvered her to look at her breast. His eyes grew heavy lidded for a slight moment before refocusing again.

"Look, all healed." He gently smiled.

"What?" She looked down at her chest and noticed that the bite Sebastian left on her had completely healed. "How's that possible?" She asked as her fingers brushed over where the wound used to be.

"Vampire blood has healing properties." Ominis said as he watched her examining herself. He licked his lips but shut his eyes and sighed heavily. Was he restraining himself?

"Is that... how you're able to see me?" She asked softly as she stared into his misty blue eyes.

He nodded. "Kristoff would force us to drink his blood regularly. The first time we fed, it healed any ailments that Sebastian and I had. Wounds, broken bones, including me being blind. When I opened my eyes and saw the world for the first time, I cried. I cried for hours because I was so ecstatic to see but heartbroken because all I saw was Sebastian and I locked away in a cell. When Kristoff's blood left my system, I was robbed of sight all over again. This continued to happen in a twisted cycle but Sebastian was there for me the entire time. I think it was entertaining to Kristoff to see this happening to me. He got a laugh out of it. I was plagued with headaches as soon as l couldn't see again then he would make us drink and I'd heal, it was just wave after wave of sight then blindness. Sebastian would beg the man to give me a break but he wouldn't, I was just a play thing to him." He said, staring off into space.

"You told me your mother did almost anything to heal your blindness, did she ever try vampire blood?" Vivian asked softly.

"No, it was something she wouldn't risk. If I was accidentally turned, I wouldn't be a pure-blood anymore, I would become a half-breed. My blood would be tainted and she wouldn't have that. So no, she never tried to use vampire blood," He said as his fingers began to trace up and down her spine. "Get comfortable with me, please. I want to hold you." He whispered as he pulled her close to him once more. She slid her leg around his and wrapped her arm over his chest. He pulled her into his side and continued to drag his long and delicate fingers along her back.

"Who changed my clothes, Ominis?" She asked, doing her best to not sound angry.

"I did. I was a gentleman, Vivian. I swear. I just wanted you to be more comfortable, yet still a vision of loveliness," He sighed against her. "Speaking of your clothes, we need to change you again, there's blood all over your robe." He said as he caressed the fabric.

He lifted her up in his arms and stood up from the bed. When did he become so strong? He picked her up as if she was light as a feather. She would have to get used to their vampiric traits and stop being so shocked when they displayed them. Ominis and Sebastian were not the same and it...hurt.

He set her down to stand in front of him and she placed her hands on his shoulders. He was only dressed in his underwear and she couldn't stop taking in his beautiful form.

"Ominis? In order to be turned...you had to—you had to die, didn't you?" There was a lump in her throat and she could feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

"Yes, we did." He said simply as he reached up to wipe her tears away. She took a moment to register that information. Her best friends, her lovers, could have actually died. What if the blood didn't work? What if their bodies rejected the change? She could have lost both of them and the ministry would have been absolutely right to pronounce them as dead. Ominis pulled her in for a tight hug as she sobbed into his chest.

"I know, Sweetheart. I know." He softly shushed her as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I could have lost you both." Her voice was muffled against his skin.

"But you didn't, we're here with you, Vivian. You have us back and we don't plan on going anywhere. We are both so sorry for how we handled things back at your cabin. We just...we need you. We want you, desperately. Please try to understand. We love you with every fiber of our being. I've loved you ever since I heard you play the piano. Do you remember that day?" He asked.

She nodded against him. "You said it was as if my music was made for you. It was, I thought of you whenever my fingers would touch those keys. My songs were always dedicated to you and Sebastian." He shifted so he could clasp her chin between his fingers and tilt her face up to look at him.

"I knew I loved you from that moment on. I could listen to you play forever. I was so mesmerized by you. I still am." He said, his face moving closer to hers. He had her under a spell. It had to be, his aura was so powerful, she felt it in her very core. His presence was consuming, enveloping her in this ethereal warm feeling. He closed the distance between them, pulling her in for a crushing embrace, as his lips found hers. The kiss was gentle at first then slowly became a heated exchange of tongues and panting. He tasted so sweet it was intoxicating. His hands flew to her robe, frantically untying the knot, it cascaded down her shoulders as it fell to the floor. He stepped back with a growl to fully take in her naked body.

"Rotate for me. I want to see all of you." He said as he was trying to catch his breath. She slowly turned for him, nervously playing with the ends of her hair as she felt his eyes on her back. When she faced him again his eyes had flooded black, just like they did at her house. His look was dark and hungry as he locked his gaze on her pulse. In a flash he was on her again, his one arm wrapped around her waist, the other tilted her head to the side as he exposed her neck.

"Ominis, wait. What are you doing?" Her heart began to pound as she felt his breath glide over her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Sebastian got a taste, will you share with me as well?" He flicked his tongue across her skin and shut his eyes in sensual bliss. "Merlin, just your scent alone is mouth watering." He brushed his lips so deftly over her pulse it made her gasp.

"Yes." She blurted out without truly thinking about her answer. Ominis groaned, clutching her closer to his body, as he sank his fangs into her neck. She moaned loudly as he began to drink deeply from her, growling against her as his hands roamed all over her exposed body. Her entire being was wracked with a wicked tingling sensation. Is this what he was feeling? Was it her blood or her very being that caused this? He sucked on her neck even harder making her cry out as she dug her nails into his back feeling like she was holding on for dear life.

"Ominis! Too much!" She groaned as her body started to slump against his. He released his bite to lift her up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. She knew that if she let him go, she would collapse onto the floor. He held her up against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her, he palmed the back of her head making her look directly in his eyes.

"I'm taking you to bed. I need you now, forget being a gentleman, forget taking my time. I want my girlfriend back." He was just a blur as he ran over to the bed, their bodies crashing down on the plush mattress. It was as if he had more limbs than she could possibly count, his hands were everywhere, grabbing and groping at her excitedly.

"This is everything. I'm truly seeing you for the first time and I'm just—I'm speechless." His eyes landed on hers and his were misty with tears. "I hated how we ended things. I didn't want to, if I'm being honest, we just didn't want to make you choose between us so we backed off. You have no idea how I longed for you though. I missed you, I missed your very presence being in my life, I couldn't settle with just being your friend. You were always on my mind and in my dreams. I never stopped loving you, never." His tears began to fall and splash on her exposed chest.

She cradled his head against her body and his fingers dug into her sides. He hugged onto her as if she would suddenly become smoke, drifting through his fingers and fading away. Everything was so confusing for her, she wanted to stay, she wanted to go, she was absolutely torn but...why couldn't she have this moment with him?

He sniffled as she ran her thumb along his cheekbones and wiped away his tears. He peered up at her with this primal look in his eyes as he shifted to fully lay over her, his hips wedged between her legs. His black eyes seemed to promise dark and wicked fantasies and a part of her wanted to give him what he craved so badly. A small voice in the back of her mind grew louder and louder as he gazed at her. Just let go, it whispered, let go and give in to him. At that exact moment, Vivian...did.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned down to kiss along her jaw then descended his lips to her neck. She sighed and her back arched slightly as he sucked and licked at her damp skin, leaving marks behind every kiss. His mouth left her body only to make its way to hers. His lips slanted over hers as their tongues danced around one another. He groaned into their kiss as his fingers brushed along her collarbone before descending to her breasts. He palmed and cupped her flesh as his other hand clasped around the back of her neck to hold her in place as he deepened their kiss. He teased and toyed with her sensitive nipple, pinching it between his nimble fingers. She whimpered into his mouth and he smiled against her lips. He pulled away from her mouth only to lightly trace his lips from her neck down to her other breast. He flicked his tongue against the tight peak making her gasp while he chuckled against her. He kept flicking his tongue against her hard nipple while his fingers played with the other one. She groaned and couldn't help running her fingers through his hair, holding his head against her chest. He opened his mouth ever so slightly to suck on her aching peak. He had her head in a daze as he switched to lick and suck on her other breast.

"Ominis! I need—I need more. Please." She was panting, begging for him to just take her. He eased away from her and a huge smile graced his beautiful face.

"You want more of me, sweetheart?" His voice was so lulling and sultry.

"Yes, please, Omi." She used the nickname that he used to love and he kissed her gently on the forehead before his hand began to glide down her torso, stopping just above her aching bundle of nerves. She could feel how sopping wet she was for him as her juices ran down to soak the bed sheets. He was taking his time, enjoying the fact that he was teasing her, leaving her a wriggling mess beneath him. His fingers ghosted over her folds and she moaned loudly before her hand flew to her mouth, embarrassed by her reaction. Ominis seemed to love it and did the same light motion a few more times before removing her hand from her face.

"No, I want to hear you. Every sigh, every whimper and moan, I need to hear it all." He said as his eyes focused between her trembling legs.

She couldn't take this anymore and snatched at his wrist, forcing him to touch her soaked entrance. He growled and began to palm her swollen bud as his cock twitched in his drawers. Her head tossed from side to side as she licked her lips, thrusting her hips into his hand. He slowly inserted his middle finger into her core making her cry out his name. Damn did she miss this, she missed them both so much and decided she was going to enjoy every second of this. Her legs were literally quivering as he began to thrust his finger in and out of her dripping heat.

"Fuck, you're so wet and ready for me, Darling. Will you be good to me, Vivian? Will you be my good girl?" He asked as he pumped his finger even harder inside her.

"Yes! I'll do anything!" She whined as he withdrew his finger with a sloppy wet sound. She watched as he sucked her slick from his fingers, his eyes closing in ecstasy, savoring her taste on his tongue.

"Merlin, Vivian, you taste so fucking good, but I'll save that for another night, right now, I just need to fuck you. I need to be inside you. Are you ready for me?" He asked as he slid his drawers off and tossed them across the room. Her eyes grew wide when she viewed his cock. Everything about it was absolutely perfect to his length, his girth, the beautiful vein that ran from his tip to his base. Everything about this man was simply stunning. She lifted her hands to pull his face to hers, pressing a searing kiss to his luscious lips.

"I'm ready for you, Love." She whispered against his mouth.

He pulled away to look down at their connected bodies as he gripped his shaft, aiming the tip at her glistening entrance. He rubbed the pink and swollen head along her folds, spreading her wetness so it would be easier to slide into her. She ran her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he began to press into her. He moaned with panting breaths as he fell deeper into her, inch by agonizing inch. He gripped her hip with one hand as he hoisted himself up above her with the other.

"Oh, Vivian! You're so fucking tight!" He huffed as he pushed deeper into her. She was panting under him, desperately wanting more from him, this was too slow and careful. She wrapped her legs around his waist, tightening them to yank him into her. They both cried out as he bottomed out in her soaking hole. The full feeling was entirely welcomed and she leaned up to kiss his strained neck.

"Don't hold back, Ominis. Please, I'm not some delicate flower." She smiled up at him as she moved her hips along his length, spreading her juices along his thick shaft. He hissed in a breath as the sensation rippled through his sweaty body.

"Alright, sweetie, you asked for it." He grinned as he rose onto his knees. He positioned himself where her thighs were wrapped around him and he could hold her hips firmly under his dexterous fingers. He stared down at her with those intoxicating black eyes as Sebastian burst into the room.

"Aww. You two started without me? Even after I've made breakfast." He whined as he set a tray of food down on a nearby table. She could feel Ominis jerk inside her heat as he did his best not to buck into her.

"Then get over here and help me love her thoroughly." Ominis grinned wickedly.

"You don't have to tell me twice." Sebastian smirked as he tore off his pants and underwear.

She watched in complete fascination as his muscular frame stalked around the bed, his mouth watering penis growing harder and harder with each step. He stood at the edge of the bed above her head and locked his gaze with hers. She stared as they turned black like Ominis’, the pupils seemed to bleed ink, spreading across his heavy lidded eyes. Their pitch black glares should have frightened her but oddly enough there was something about them that was so enticing and forbidden.

Sebastian reached down to place his hands under her arms and slid her to the edge of the bed so her head was slightly hanging over it. Ominis whimpered at the loss of her body but quickly crawled back over to her and wedged himself between her legs as he watched Sebastian work above her.

"Tilt your head back, Vivian. I'm going to fuck your throat, Darling. Do you think you can handle that?" His husky voice was enough to make her core clench, missing the feeling of Ominis' cock buried deep within her.

"For you, I'll try, I need to taste you." She licked her lips as his manhood hovered near her mouth.

"If it's too much, reach up and dig your nails into me three times, do you understand?" His demanding tone had her growing wet all over again, she could feel it running down between her cheeks. Ominis must have noticed because he swiped a finger out to catch some and suck it into his mouth, moaning at her taste.

"Do it, Sebastian. I need to see you inside her tantalizing mouth." Ominis hissed as he began to pump his hand up and down his length getting ready to enter her again.

"You need to breathe in between each of my thrusts alright, Viv." Sebastian stared down at her, his chest was heaving in anticipation.

"Yes. I just need you. Both of you. Please." She begged.

The men nodded in agreement as Sebastian wrapped his hands around the back of her neck, his thumbs caressing her throat possessively but still held a gentleness to them. The bed was just high enough for her face to be leveled with his waist as she opened her mouth to allow him to feed his cock to her. He groaned as she worked her tongue around his tip.

Ominis was tracing his fingers up and down the inside of her thighs which made her shiver and moan against Sebastian. He then pressed his palms into them, spreading them wide for him. She couldn't see what he was doing but she felt him breach her once more. This time he pushed himself inside so deeply his hips connected with hers. Sebastian began to pump in and out of her mouth very slowly, making sure she was comfortable the entire time.

"Breathe in with every thrust, Sweetheart. Yes!That's it, fuck, your mouth feels so damned good!" He growled as his crown slid further into her throat. Ominis began to thrust harder and faster, her whimpers and sounds of pleasure being drowned out by Sebastian bucking even deeper into her throat. The intrusion was a bit shocking but she did as she was told and breathed in when he thrusted in hard and out when he withdrew his hips.

"I can fucking feel my cock down your throat as I hold you! You're doing so good, Vivian! Such a good girl.” He was panting wildly as he reached for Ominis with one hand, still clasping her neck with the other. Ominis was pounding into her, gripping her hips so tightly, his nails dug into her skin. He leaned into Sebastian's touch as the two of them moved closer to kiss one another above her writhing body. The two of them were just railing her and she was enjoying every second of it. Sebastian deep in her throat, Ominis thrusting frantically inside her. They were pushing her over the edge, driving her insane, she was gripping the sheets so hard that she thought she would tear them.

"I'm loving this, you look amazing fucking her pretty mouth!" Ominis moaned.

Sebastian reached down to grab her hand and bring it up to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, her palm, and stopped at her wrist. Ominis lifted the other hand and did the same. She knew what was coming and groaned on her freckled lover as their fangs pierced her skin. They drank from her in unison, fucking her into submission, her core was clenching even tighter around Ominis' hard length. She was moaning so loudly around Sebastian that she knew he had to feel it vibrating through him. Her legs began to quake around Ominis as he found that sensitive spot within her that drove her wild. Sebastian released her wrist and groaned powerfully through gritted teeth as he reached his climax, shooting his load straight down her throat. He shuddered over her for a moment before he slowly withdrew from her mouth and she swallowed him down. He sagged down to the floor to sit beside her head. He smiled widely at her as he started to stroke her hair and leave kisses all over her face.

She was panting lustily as Ominis removed her wrist from his mouth and leaned forward to press his chest to hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He gripped the end of the bed on either side of her head as he began to pound into her, grinding his hips against hers, filling the room with the sound of their skin slapping together.

"Look at him, watch him fuck you, sweetheart. Isn't he magnificent?" Sebastian whispered in her ear as Ominis continued to rail her.

"Yes! Omi, just like that, l'm so close!" She cried out as she reached up to hold onto his shoulders.

"Me too!" He moaned against her chest. With one long and harsh thrust, he bottomed out inside her, painting her walls with his seed. His growls echoed throughout the room as he started to come down from their high. He collapsed against her and buried his face in her neck. The three of them stayed in that moment for a bit before Ominis rolled off of her and Sebastian climbed on the bed. He lifted her up to lay beside him as Ominis hugged his large form from behind. Sebastian cupped her face in his hands and caressed her cheek.

"You were so amazing, Vivian. How are you feeling? Are you alright?" He asked as he gently kissed her.

"We didn't hurt you, did we?" Ominis asked as he leaned over Sebastian's shoulder.

"No, you guys didn't hurt me, my neck is a little sore but other than that I feel great." She smiled at her boys.

"So... have you decided to stay?" Sebastian asked, his big brown eyes pleading with her.

"I um. I love what we just shared with one another, I do, I just feel like...there is something you guys aren't telling me. It's this nagging feeling, it's hard to explain." She sighed.

"We just want to be happy with you, Vivian. You can't say you haven't missed this, that you don't want this." Ominis said as he reached to hold her hand in his.

"I hope I don't regret this but...l'll stay. Because I do love you both so much and I have missed you two to the point where it pained me. I'm just—I'm trying to trust you guys." She wiped a little blood off of Sebastian's lip and moved her hand over to brush Ominis hair away from his face.

"You can trust us, Sweetheart." Sebastian smiled at her and moved to get off the bed. He stood and held his hands out for her and Ominis to take them. Once their fingers were entwined, the two men led her down the hall and to a door that was on the right, Ominis opened it to reveal a spacious bathroom.

He crossed over to the tub after releasing Sebastian's hand and began to run the water. He grabbed a vial of soap on a nearby shelf and uncorked the small bottle then poured the contents into the bathtub. She watched as fragrant bubbles started to form in the water. Ominis tested the water to make sure it was warm enough then entered the tub and motioned for her to come to him which she did with a small smile. She climbed in and sat on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, Sebastian stepped in after her and pressed his chest to her back as his legs were outstretched alongside Ominis.

"I want to try something. Do you trust me?" Ominis asked as he grabbed a rag hung over the side of the tub. She nodded and watched as he bit his own wrist, holding it out to her. "Drink, Darling." He said softly. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm with one hand and delicately placed her other hand in his to hold him in place. She brought her lips to the open wound before closing them around him to lap at the dripping holes. His eyes closed and he sighed as his head fell back. Did this feel good to him? Did it possibly turn him on? She wondered.

His blood was a bit sweeter than Sebastian's but still held that metallic tang to it. It was warm and soothing as it ran down her throat. She moved her mouth away from his wrist as Sebastian turned her head to the side to kiss her, licking Ominis' blood from her lips. His tongue entwined with hers as the beautiful blond watched his two lovers make out.

Sebastian broke away from the kiss and Ominis took his turn of having her face him and press his lips to hers. They each took turns kissing one another and her heart would pound every time she saw the two men enjoying one another's mouths. The moment wasn't entirely sexual, it was more intimate than anything, the three of them just exchanging their love for each other.

Sebastian rubbed her shoulders and neck, working out all the kinks and soreness in her muscles. Ominis took his time washing her and removing all the dried blood from her body. They were pampering her and it felt absolutely wonderful. After a thorough massage and cleansing, they escorted her back to the bedroom. Sebastian sprawled out on the large mattress with his hands folded behind his head, still choosing to be naked. Ominis walked over to a large armoire and started to root through it, picking something else out for her to wear. She looked down at the beautiful breakfast Sebastian had prepared for her which was now cold after sitting for so long.

"We're sorry about your meal, Love. I'll head back to the kitchen in a moment to make you something even better." Sebastian grinned at her.

"That's alright, just warm it back up using magic. I know how much you love to cast spells dealing with fire, Seb." She giggled but her joke was met with solemn expressions from both men.

"What? Why are the two of you looking at me like that?" She asked, looking at the both of them with concern.

"Vivian, um. We can't exactly use magic anymore." Sebastian said sadly.

"You—You can't use magic? Why?" She was shocked by this news.

"We think it has something to do with us being vampires." Ominis sighed as he walked over to her with a shimmery red nightdress. She lifted her arms above her head so he could slide the silk down her body, smoothing it into place. He then picked up his underwear and put them back on before joining Sebastian on the bed.

"It started gradually, our spells became weaker over time, then we weren't able to cast at all." Sebastian looked like he was holding back tears. Magic was so important to the both of them, this had to be devastating and very frustrating to deal with. Ominis wrapped his arm over Seb's torso and draped his leg over his thighs. Sebastian pulled him in close and planted a delicate kiss on his forehead. Ominis crooked a finger, beckoning her to join them. She crawled onto the bed and laid on the other side of Sebastian's warm body. He wrapped his muscled arm around her waist and held her tightly as she rested her head on his broad chest. She placed her leg near Ominis' and he started to drag his fingers up and down her thigh to relax her. Her eyes were getting heavy as Sebastian played with the silk of her dress.

"What are the two of you going to do?" She asked, feeling an ache in her chest. She couldn't even imagine what it must feel like to lose such an important part of herself. Magic was their very core, her heart was shattered knowing that this part of them was just...gone.

"I honestly don"t know...but I'm hoping to figure something out. Get some rest, we don't need to worry about this right now." Sebastian said as he leaned his head down to kiss her tenderly. He turned to Ominis and placed one on his forehead again, the golden haired man was already half asleep. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek and he smiled sleepily at her.

This felt so right and perfect as the three of them fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms. They were a tangled heap of happiness and her heart felt full after being away from them for so long. She was still a little guarded but chose to trust them, letting them back into her life, allowing them to love her again. She just hoped and prayed that she wouldn't be hurt once more.

Tag list: @littletealight @somethingiswrongwithme @wynterjai @dangerousdreamkitty @myrachondria @connorsoddsock @hotcinnam0nspicy @localravenclaw @froggyinaspen @underthenightskydreamsneverdie @moongurl95 @that-supernatural-world @pity-those-who-live-without-love @sevprince-91 Thank you all & If you would like to be tagged, just let me know. If I have missed anyone in the tag list, please comment & let me know.🙏🏽❤️

🩸Chapter 5🩸