#I just reblog...very methodically and slowly...but also so many times I’ll write a post and then draft/delete it

[ladyespera]

I posted 1,045 times in 2021

440 posts created (42%)

605 posts reblogged (58%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.4 posts.

I added 1,369 tags in 2021

#doctor who - 408 posts

#star wars - 194 posts

#eighth doctor - 134 posts

#personal - 106 posts

#thrawn - 106 posts

#aesthetic - 104 posts

#meme - 82 posts

#mitth'raw'nuruodo - 81 posts

#my art - 78 posts

#grand admiral thrawn - 76 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#ugh ugh ugh i’m so worried they don’t have my correct contact info for some reason and that i won’t get my results and there’ll be a hassle

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

crack ways to introduce thrawn on the ahsoka show that i wrote on my notes app that would anger thrawn's YT comment stans but still maintain the integrity of the character: 1) long solemn shot of space like the opening of any SW movie. suddenly the chimaera jumps out of hyperspace, smoking & barely holding together at the seams. someone screeching "--and stay OUT!" as an officer bats a tentacle out the broken windshield with a broom. alarms going off everywhere, smoke everywhere. everybody is hanging onto something for dear life, white-knuckled. from under the viewport console thrawn's voice comes like "are you CERTAIN that was the LAST hyperspace jump?!!" @ ezra. somewhere on the ceiling ezra is like "yeah!!! i'm positive!!!" next second all lights go off and some equipment somewhere falls loudly in the awkward silence. somebody (hammerly probably) is going "alright, who's not dead? sound off!" 2) funky SW pop music to a distant street shot of two figures (one smol, one tall) getting thrown out of a seedy bar, tall one shouting that "IT WASN'T CHEATING IT WAS STRATEGY!!" 3) a local museum on some distant out rim planet with a really bored receptionist sitting at a tiny counter; there's like 3 dusty exhibits with some sad local trinkets. it's like 3 pm and there's been maybe one visitor who stayed for 5 mins. receptionist looks up at a commotion as 2 disheveled strangers approach, one dragging the other saying "this could be VALUABLE INFORMATION" and the other insisting that "we came for supplies we have no FOOD!" 4) ahsoka sees ezra on a street like a homeless person holding a sign that says "MIND READING FOR 5 CREDITS!" like. a jedi and somebody who has sherlock deductive abilities? if they turned to petty chaos they could rival all other fortune-tellers. 5) shot of a hiking/refugee camp built out of spare ship parts. yes the rest of the crew has all survived and they've built a camp. somewhere, thrawn is explaining water filtration but everyone wants to watch ezra fly like aang. 6) long shot of a beautiful wilderness on some SW planet. peacefulness broken by distant screaming and crashing undergrowth as our protagonists flee whatever creature they've rashly attempted to hunt. thrawn's cursing is sliding more and more back to cheunh. (inspo credit: all the artists who'd drawn this already lol) 7) opening shot of admiral ar'alani's flagship in chiss space. some innocent officer onboard furrows their eyebrows in confusion as there's a beeping. "admiral we're receiving an urgent transmission from an Imperial source--" "admiral, we're detecting several masses approaching from hyperspace--!" then like. the ENTIRE 7TH FLEET AS A BURNING DUMSTER FIRE MESS DRAGGED BY THE WHOLE HERD OF SPACE WHALES jumps out of hyperspace all around and the steadfast has to do immediate evasive maneuvers. somewhere in all this the transmission comes through and it's just like "chiss space, so this is thrawn--" the chimaera nearly collides with the steadfast and only serious braking and screaming on both sides results in the ships only lightly banging bumpers. still, there's now a dent on the steadfast. scream of rage from the bridge of the steadfast: "MITTH'RAW'NURUODO!"

336 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 18:09:28 GMT

#4

alright everyone, share, WHOMST is the silmarillion character, from any of the three ages, no matter how niche or how popular, whose appearance in any trailer or promo no matter its quality will cause your spirit to freak out so fierily that you perish and leave your body an ashen heap?

679 notes • Posted 2021-08-03 03:19:58 GMT

#3

okay this is random but like i get a kick out of how maul and thrawn are such POLAR OPPOSITE star wars villain vibes. i mean maul literally lives off of hot hot vengeance and shakespearean mystery force drama every SECOND of his life whereas thrawn tries to disattach and observe and actually think before going feral. they even have completely contrasting looks (blue in white, red in black). and yet. AND YET. maul is also a great POLITICAL strategist in his own way (the kind of strategy that continually eludes thrawn). literally the ONLY common ground is that they both have voices smoother than war crimes and vain lies to the emperor. they could never even have been in the same bad guy conference room in star wars because their energies would have canceled each other out and ripped open the fabric of star wars reality.

763 notes • Posted 2021-07-13 15:33:52 GMT

#2

"Hera Syndulla is the best Star Wars pilot," I say into the mic.

The crowd boos. I begin to walk off in shame, when a voice speaks and commands silence from the room.

"She's right," they say. I look for the owner of the voice. There in the fifth row stands: Grand Admiral Thrawn.

1660 notes • Posted 2021-10-15 04:16:53 GMT

#1

stan how you can watch dr who stick some of the finest actors in the world in the background somewhere as random one-dimensional supporting characters. like here is academy award winner olivia colman being a weird cgi shapeshift monster for <10 mins. here is sir ian mckellan himself voicing a disembodied intelligence in a snowglobe. academy award nominee richard e grant is the evil winter villain controlling said piranha snowmen btw. 

1664 notes • Posted 2021-04-06 05:06:04 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[sleepymccoy]

sleepy’s fic masterlist

Doing this cos I wanted to! And I can’t find the short things I’ve written on tumblr half the time, so i wanted a place to go to find them. I’ll edit this whenever I post something new and give it a quick reblog when I do <3

Tumblr shorts

Inventions and Ice-cream

A chererful conversation between Crowley and Aziraphale about their favourite invention humans have come up with. Also read for hand holding, ice-cream, and macking out against the Bentley door. Goes hard on the hand holding stuff

1600-ish words

What kind of lover are you?

Filled a prompt, wing grooming by South Downs. It turned into something very soft, very loving, with some acknowledgement of the aftereffects of trauma and constant threat and the anxiety that would be on you from that. Also, some nice massaging and snark from the main two. I feel like I’m getting a hug when I read this, thb

1200-ish words

Chamomille

Aziraphale notices Crowley getting tired and swings into action with a prepared bedtime routine. Crowley is not consulted. Very short and sweet

350-ish words

Monsieur and Difficult Topics

Crowley and Aziraphale are having a meal together after the apocalypse. Crowley says they're not friends and a very challenging conversation follows as Aziraphale tries to correct this. This is a pre romance thing, so they finish having had a worthwhile conversation, not leaping into dating

2000-ish words

Burnt Coffee and Crosswords

Crowley stumbles out of bed and finds that Aziraphale has, yet again, snuck into his flat while he was asleep. Fluff and fondness ensue

1000-ish words

Absolutely Adorably Nauseating

Outsider POV of Aziraphale and Crowley having very dramatic public fights. Three different stories. Mainly meant to be funny, but has some nice fluff in it

2000-ish words

How can someone as clever as you be so handsome?

Aziraphale remembers Crowley calling him clever in an angry moment and fondly teases him for it. Very fluffy.

1000-ish words

Gifts

Through the years Crowley has been giving Aziraphale gifts that are, overwhelmingly, in poor taste. Fluffy and silly, has pictures

2000-ish words

An Unpleasant Suprise

A butteromens effort. The similar fics were Aziraphale saving Crowley from Gabriel, I wanted to do a twist that had Crowley more engaged in the fight. Turns into an awful lot of flirting and the like at the end, it’s a fun read. Quick warning for a brief decrip of gore from being burnt, but I move on pretty fast

3500-ish words

A New Eden

Filled a prompt; “I’m going to need you to put some underwear on before you say anything else.” It’s not sexy, but by the virtue of the prompt there is dick. Mostly speechless Crowley, though.

1200-ish words

Entirely Unapologetic

Filled a prompt; “so why did I have to punch that guy?�� Features protective Crowley and blustering Aziraphale

500-ish words

Be Unashamed With Me

Crowley’s waiting for Aziraphale to leave a church and as he waits he gets a bit sad about his demon-hood and remembers how hopeless he was before he and Aziraphale got together. When Aziraphale joins him a lot of fluff and compliments follow to cheer Crowley up. Which works. Gets a bit flirty.

1500-ish words

Climb Every Mountain

In the biblical narrative, God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac, on Moriah. Abraham begins to comply, when a messenger from God interrupts him. Abraham then sees a ram and sacrifices it instead. In the me narrative, Crowley does a favour for Aziraphale then swiftly changes his mind and doesn’t let the kid be killed.

1200-ish words

How Many Ways Can I Say...

A very short form fic, more a casual tumblr post, but it has some cute descriptions of different ways Aziraphale can sat I love you to Crowley

500-ish words

AO3 links

If You Like

link to tumblr promo post

link to some relevant art

a take on the few days between apocalypse and the body switch, cos Aziraphale goes from surprised at Crowley offering to let him crash at his apartment, to swapping bodies and letting Crowley risk himself. So it’s following Aziraphale’s trauma and consideration. Lots of bed sharing and a very fluffy body-positivity ending with Aziraphale’s golden stretch marks.

10,000-ish words

Nothing’s Changed

link to tumblr promo post

A week into July and Crowley has finished sleeping in. He gives Aziraphale a ring and receives a very frosty reception. Although Aziraphale insists nothing has changed, Crowley suspects otherwise. Fic includes Aziraphale pinching Crowley to prove he’s not dreaming

2000-ish words

Slipped My Mind

link to tumblr promo post

Crowley and Aziraphale are so used to not being in a relationship that its quite easy to slip into old habits and forget that they’re allowed to touch now. A bit of angst, but mostly fluffy as they get used to this new normal.

6000-ish words

Requisite Lockdown Fic

link to tumblr promo post

This was actually a tumblr short fic I wrote, but it got crazy out of hand and the format is much easier on ao3 so I’m linking it here. Told entirely through phone calls in the same format as the lockdown youtube special. Crowley is setting boundaries for the first time and Aziraphale is struggling to adjust to these new rules. But it goes well

4000-ish words

To Seduce, Beguile, and Entice

link to tumblr promo post

Crowley isn’t any good at seduction temptations. This comes up one night and Aziraphale is concerned because he’s seduced in Crowley’s name before. All part of the Arrangement. So, of course, the only solution is for Aziraphale to teach Crowley how to seduce. It gets out of hand quickly. The last chapter is post apocalypse and Crowley tries his hand at seducing Aziraphale in a very intentionally referential way, as a kind of method to express that he’s actually interested in a relationship.

10,000-ish words

Still Waking Up

link to some relevant art

link to tumblr promo post

Follows the pair for about two years after the apocalypse as Crowley is behaving oddly and Aziraphale is figuring everything out. This is your trauma recovery fic! Crowley has nightmares and a fear of fire and some abandonment. Aziraphale is lonely and feels deeply incompetent and lost, as well as having not fully resolved some of his issues with Heaven. They learn how to be on their own side together rather than keeping it all separate and protective. Also, bed sharing.

30,000-ish words

Not Quite Human

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Omnipotent POV (but not god) that sorta swaps between them. It’s just a simple 18 hours or so in the shop on afternoon as they’ve begun to get more physically affectionate. This is a decent mutual pining fic. I tried to lean into the real not-human stuff they’ve both got going on. It’s your classic admission of love fic with plenty of panicking Crowley. Features some smut with a sex-positive, asexual Aziraphale and a sex-neutral, demisexual Crowley.

10,000-ish words

the kind of thing one says easily

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This is my silly take on an au. Everything is exactly the same but they actually communicate honestly occasionally. Wild, I know. We follow Crowley and Aziraphale through moments of time in their history (some canon friendly, like follow ons from scenes in the tv show, some made up) as Crowley quite simply tells Aziraphale that he loves him. And Aziraphale gets used to it and learns to be honest in return. Things really come to a head as the apocalypse approaches. The last chapter is a sex scene, but it’s very very loving rather than smutty.

15,000-ish words

Soft.

link to tumblr promo post

This is a very fluffy fic. Crowley tells Aziraphale he has a nice body and it dredges up Aziraphale’s residual concerns over what Gabriel said and in the panic-fueled conversation that follows as Crowley tries to right his wrong they slowly step in sync into discussing their feelings and wants. This fic is the big three, communication, consent, and soft. (gets a bit sexy too, but it’s pretty tame)

10,000-ish words

Is It Worth It Yet

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Around abouts the 1000AD mark, in what would become Turkey a few hundred years later, Crowley sat down, took a breath, and told Aziraphale how he feels in a total trainwreck of a conversation. Chapter 1, that conversation. Of course, Aziraphale would then expect Crowley to bring it all up again after the apocalypse, and when he doesn't he decides to take matters into his own hands and broach the topic himself. It doesn't go as well as he'd hoped. Good ending tho, don't worry guys. If you need an overload of angst then a big old hug to pull you up again, this is a good one.

10,000-ish words

Summoned

link to relevant (lemon) art

link to tumblr promo post

Post apocalypse, timeline unspecified. Heaven and Hell refangle the way humans summonings work so it only applies to Aziraphale and Crowley. This means Crowley finds himself summoned an awful lot more than usual. We see their relationship readjust after the apocalypse in snippets of moments as Crowley’s been summoned. It’s mostly fairly light hearted, but there’s a couple chapters of pretty good angst and one very sexy chapter at the end! Just straight up smut, of the light d/s variety

13,000-ish words

Try Some Pride On For A Day

link to some relevant art

link to tumblr promo post

Shortly after the apocalypse, Aziraphale set a challenge down. Sin vs virtue. Each chapter shows an attempt from Crowley to get Aziraphale to succumb to sin, and Aziraphale tricking Crowley into performing a virtue. Some attempts are easier than others, some are impossible. They learn a lot about each other and slip into some unexpectedly honest moments. This one gets sexy but not out of hand. Aziraphale is pretty explicitly asexual.

20,000-ish words

Needed a break, gone to France x

link to tumblr promo post

A few weeks after the apocalypse and Crowley goes to visit Aziraphale to find a note taped to his door. Panic, anxiety, and general sadness over being so broken up with ensue. This is a miscommunication fic with a writing style that leans toward humour rather than angst and has a nice fluffy ending with good asexual overtones

9000-ish words

Heresy

link to tumblr promo post

Set 3000 years after the apocalypse. Crowley and Aziraphale live together and are romantic. They have been left not entirely alone by their old colleagues, but they are unthreatened so it’s all okay. Until one day Beelzebub and Gabriel drop by to visit in the most surprising way. This fic is my first and was written before the discussion of Beelzebubs pronouns kicked off, so I used the actresses pronouns (she/her) instead of they/them which I’ve used since when referring to Beelzebub

2500-ish words

[this-idiots-left-eye]

Depth Perception 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: How did Reim get his glasses? || Two of the Rainsworth boys are having trouble seeing properly. One needs a physical fix, and the other may need something a bit deeper.

Notes: This was written for @phmonth2021, Rainsworth Trio Day 4 prompt: Glasses.

This was a bit short/fast, so I think I might flesh it out a bit later? But I really liked this idea and definitely thought it was worth posting what I had!! I hope you guys like it too!!

I'll put links to this fic on Ao3 and FF.net in a reblog!

Also, fyi, I've started a Pandora Hearts series on my Ao3 so that those who only want to follow me for ph can do so!! So if you like my ph fics, please consider following it!! I post for ph more than any other fandom!!

If you liked this fic, please consider commenting!! You have no idea how much your comments mean to me. They make my entire week, and motivate me to keep writing stories like this!!

Rufus Barma hadn’t been entirely convinced that taking on such a young servant would be productive. He was more than half sure he would get regularly distracted, and not do his job properly overall.

He was surprised to find that despite his young age, Reim had little to no interest in silly games. The boy was astute, he was respectful, and in fact his diligence was unmatched even in his adult servants. He always did all the work asked of him, no matter how much or how trivial. He was a model servant, and more than qualified.

The only problem…was that he couldn’t see.

Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He could see. He just couldn’t see well. Rufus all too often found him with his nose pressed against the paper as he worked. He ran into things in the hallway, and apologized profusely to vases. But whenever Rufus brought it up, Reim told him it wasn’t a problem.

Sharon realized this fact even faster than Rufus had—(a fact that, had he known, he would have found rather shocking). Even within their first meeting she could tell by the way he squinted and clumsily bumbled about that he was in dire need of a pair of glasses.

Surmising that the Duke was may be unaware of the situation, she endeavored to enlighten him. Her grandmother was heading over to the Barma Dukedom soon and suggested she come with her.

She hadn’t been over to the Barma Dukedom very often, despite her grandmother’s insistence that he really was a big pushover, standing in front of him she was rather intimidated.

“Duke Barma-sama I mean no disrespect, but I have come to make a request of you.” She said with her hands folded over her dress, her eyes down, and her grandmother’s comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Speak, Child.”

“Well…I just wanted to ask…” She wrung her hands. “I wanted to ask if you could…” She dropped her hands to her sides and said confidently, and a little too loudly, “Please get Reim glasses!”

Rufus blinked, taken aback.

“He stumbles around all the time, and runs into things an awful lot! One of these days he’s going to hurt himself! He really needs glasses! I know it’s not my place, but I’ve come to request that you please buy him a nice pair!”

Rufus’ eyes flicked to Sheryl, then he turned around to hide his smile. He silently walked over to one of the shelves behind him, pulling down something nestled between the books. He handed it to her.

It was a sort of oval shaped case. Trying to curb her fear that it might explode, she slid it open to find a pair of shiny gold-rimmed glasses.

Her expression broke into a grin, and when she looked up at Duke Barma, he was smiling too.

“Shall we present these to him together?”

She gave a nod beaming.

When Reim saw Duke Barma, Sharon, and Duchess Rainsworth walking down the hall towards him together, his brain didn’t delay in predicting all the terrifying scenes that might just play out in a moment, and tried to delay the self-destruct sequence that began to count down.

“Reim, young Sharon and I have a gift for you.”

Sharon held out the case with both hands.

Reim glanced from the two smiling imps, taking the item very slowly and cautiously, wondering not if it was going to explode, but just how it was going to explode, and how much damage he was going to have to clean up.

When he opened it his expression broke into to surprise.

With wide eyes, he flicked his gaze from his master to his friend, then to the Duchess.

“I can’t accept this.” He spoke flatly.

Rufus’ traded his smile for a furrowed brow. “Art thou refusing a gift from thy master?”

He bristled. “No! No! It’s just—this is too much, Rufus-sama!”

Rufus put a hand on his shoulder. “I do not consider it much, compared with the price of all the heirlooms thou hath broken.”

Reim froze, eyes wide.

“Many apologies, Rufus-sama!” His nose almost touched the ground as he bowed. “I will accept this most gracious gift with honors!”

Rufus leaned down and spoke to Sharon behind his hand. “Thou wouldst do well to use such methods with him the future.”

Sharon took a step forward. “Why don’t you put them on, Reim-san?”

Picking them up as if they were a valuable and ancient artifact, he ticked up the two sides, and slid them over his ears, looking like he’d been doing so his whole life.

He looked around at them all, finding that there was a lot more detail to their faces than he was generally privy to.

“I think they suit you perfectly, Reim-san.” Sharon beamed.

******

It was those glasses. It took Kevin a while to realize. It was those glasses he hated.

He could rarely tell what was behind them, the light reflecting off them obscuring any expression within the young boy.

Reim hated him. He knew it. He must. He intuition was usually pretty good, and, no, he didn’t feel any malice off of him, but he was sure that behind his back the boy whispered malicious things, and gossiped with the rest of them.

It was those glasses that told him that. He was always looking at him with that indecipherable glass gaze, but Kevin was unsure he really saw him at all.

Kevin was just as creepy as they said, of course. It only made sense the children would be all that much more afraid and judgmental. It wasn’t their fault a murderer had taken up abode into their home.

…That didn’t make it any easier for Kevin to take.

He could handle the gossip of the adults. That was high society, after all. Such whispers followed him long before he arrived at the Rainsworth manor. But that of children…

—(“Kevin…Please don’t leave.”)—

That was a bit more difficult to take.

He longed to break them. To throw them to the floor, just to see something real in his eyes. To confirm his fears and assumptions.

And one day…the thread snapped.

“Shut up! Don’t pay me any mind….Don’t come near me… Don’t so much as look at me!”

The glasses hit the floor.

But the look in the boy’s eyes…it wasn’t one of malice or judgment. No anger or annoyance at his actions. Not even fear. It was one of simple surprise, wondering, and…compassion, even?

Was it possible that when he told him to stop…he was truly looking out for his well-being? That there wasn’t some ulterior motive? That Kevin’s intuition about the boy being a pure and un-violent soul was right?

When Shelly picked up those glasses, gently replaced them on the boy’s face, kind words mixed with reprimand for Kevin…he decided it might not be remiss to give the boy a chance. To try and meet the golden eyes behind those glasses, and realize that they may not mask something darker after all.

The next time he stumbled against the wall, and wanted nothing more than to shove Reim’s helping hand away, he decided to give in, and let him help him.

As Kevin leaned against him, the boy smiled. “It’s alright. I know what it’s like not to be able to see very well.”

After that, he learned to trust his intuition, not his eye.

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter One

Summary: When a son is born to the King and Queen, Kahmunrah cannot help but to feel as though he has been tossed aside. Merenkahre is joyous upon his son; Ahkmenrah's arrival and gifts him with a magical tablet and a loyal Medjay to watch over him.

Previous Chapter: Prologue: The Boy Who Wanted to Be King

Word Count: 4069

Warnings:none

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: I want to thank everyone who commented, liked or reblogged the prologue last week! My heart is full and I am so very grateful the beginning went over so well. Nothing but love for all of you! Also, I’ll post the summary of the next chapter on my masterlist as a sort of sneak peak to the next installment. Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

The celebration that Merenkahre threw to honor the birth of his new son was the greatest feast Egypt had ever seen. A great many prayed for the boy’s arrival, none so much as the pharaoh. For Kah, all the revelry managed to do was drive that gnawing sense of jealousy and bitterness deeper. He could remember each of the celebrations that had accompanied the births of his sisters. Comparatively, they had been trivial; a mere few hours of merrymaking over dinner and nothing like the feast to honor Ahkmenrah.

Noble houses from cities up and down the Nile were invited to join in on the splendor; mayors and governors, who brought trinkets and finery as gifts for their new prince. It all made Kah’s nostrils flare, and his teeth grind. Shepseheret, his false mother, paraded the boy around like some sort of prize, and all the women fussed over his dark curls and wide eyes. “How handsome a prince he will be!” they would exclaim, and Kahmunrah’s anger rooted deeper. The boy was less than a week old, and Kah hated him.

Kah sat slouched at a table with his sisters, watching and radiating the ire cumulating inside of him. His sisters knew better than to involve him in their excitement, sitting far at the other end of the long table. He made sure to remind them—often—that he never wanted to have anything to do with them---they were beneath him. They too fawned and prattled about their new baby brother, smitten just like everyone else in attendance, making Kah that much more irritable.  

“I remember when you were born,” the pharaoh's voice startled him out of a wrathful stupor, and Kah turned to look at his father who had placed himself in the adjacent chair. “Your mother paraded you around just as proudly but refused to let anyone touch you. You were so very precious to her.”

Some of the anger fizzled out of him, the pang of grief much too sharp for anything to hinder it. Even so, Kahmunrah said nothing.

“I know she would be proud to see the man you have become,” Merenkahre patted his son on the back. “Badru hopes to name you Consul of War in his stead when he steps down—a great honor. It will bring me joy to see you in a seat at my council.”

Kahmunrah nodded, “I look forward to that as well, father.”

The pharaoh lingered, watching the jovial commotion from afar, his hand still resting on his eldest son’s shoulder. Without another word, Meren stood, cast his son a small smile, then strode back to his wife and new son.

Kah did want a seat at his father’s table—the highest seat. However, that future he had always wanted suddenly lost its guarantee. That little boy in the queen's arms had more power than Kah ever would. Merenkahre could smooth over anything, but Kahmunrah knew; his brother was going to take the one thing he had always wanted.

Kahmunrah hated him.

The party droned on well into the night, the sky sinking into an inky black canvas of glittering stars and silver moonlight. To most, it would have been a beautiful sight, but to Kah, that dark heaven was a mirror of his own fortune.

“My friends!” the pharaoh’s voice rang out over the garden festivities in a robust timbre that quieted all the merrymaking. “My lovely queen and I wish the thank all of you for your kindness, and your gifts, and for partaking in this celebration to honor Prince Ahkmenrah.”

A slight cheer resonated throughout the crowd in a wave of smiles, and Kah sneered.

“Before this night ends, I would like to bestow upon this precious child a gift of my own.” Merenkahre turned and gestured for the robed priests to step forward.

From a distance, it was difficult to see what they held, a parcel of some kind covered with a bit of cloth. Kah watched with furrowed brows at the exchange happening between his father and the robed man with the gift; he was chanting something, but not loud enough to hear. When his lips stopped their moving, a flash of golden light radiated from under the piece of cloth, and the priest bowed and handed over the parcel.  

“My son,” Merenkahre smiled, artfully removing the cloth to reveal a piece of solid gold. “I present you with The Tablet of Ahkmenrah-- blessed by the great god Khonsu; may it’s magic guide and protect you, in this life and the next!”

All at once, that jealousy burning like dying embers inside of Kah ignited, spreading throughout him in a ravenous wave that cast everything he could see in hues of red. That gift was the evidence he needed to know that he would always be the lesser child. Merenkahre had never given him an elaborate, magical gift; the pharaoh had handed him off to Bardu, under the guise that training would make him a better king. It was clear his father was just biding his time until someone could replace him. Ahkmenrah would surly be crowned, and Kah hated him.  

***

The night was in its adolescence when the festivities began to die out. Families staying at the palace slowly found their way back inside, while others made their leave with the entourage they had arrived with. Merenkahre sent them all on their way with well wishes and his thanks before he too wandered back into the grand halls of his palace.  

The corridors were mostly vacant, apart from the household guard, when Merenkahre took his time strolling back to his chambers, reveling in the joy that encompassed him, thinking about his son. He was grateful to the gods for sending him Ahkmenrah and vowed that his second son would be raised to show kindness in all things for the good of himself, and the good of the people he would one-day rule.

A small part of the pharaoh hated to deny his firstborn what, by birthright, belonged to him, but Kah’s demeanor would cause the land to suffer. A king who thought only for himself would lead their empire to ruin. A sort of selflessness went into ruling, and his eldest son would never understand that sort of sacrifice.

Meren gestured for the two Medjay guards standing sentry outside of the royal bedchambers to follow him inside. The interior was lit dimly, the distant fragrance of lotus and jasmine coloring the air from the gardens beyond the open balcony. Shepseheret smiled as he entered, gingerly clutching the sleeping prince to her chest. His wife was never more beautiful than when she was radiating the joy of motherhood. She was ethereal each time and Merenkahre always found himself utterly spellbound by her every movement. He kissed her softly, his hands resting in feather-light touches at either side of her face. Her smile grew when they parted, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she gazed at him from under her long lashes.

“My king?”

The Pharaoh turned to find the two men he’d ordered to follow, dutifully waiting to be given orders. He almost forgot about them, and his eyes fell upon the tablet hidden under a thick cut of linen on the table at the center of the room.

“Ah, yes,” Meren said, offering them an apologetic smile.

He quickly crossed the room and retrieved the golden gift and handed it to one of the Medjay.

“Will you see to it that this is placed in the temple- under the shrine of Khonsu, where it will be safe? The power bestowed upon these golden plates must never be misused.” A twinge of fear seeped into the pharaoh’s voice as he spoke; the very same fear that inspired him to have such a curio forged. The fear that his darling son's life would be cut short.

“Of course, my king,” the man bowed his head and held the tablet close.

“Thank you,” he inclined his head approvingly. “Also, bring me that boy we spoke of earlier, Kamuzu, I believe was his name. I have a task for him, should he choose to take it.”

Both Medjay nodded their understanding and left without saying another word. Meren watched them go until the doors were shut, and he was alone with his queen. After a night of jubilation, he took a moment to rejoice in the tranquil quiet of his private bedchamber—Shep's gentle humming the only sound.

“Did you speak with Kahmunrah?” his queen asked gently, her focus still on the boy sleeping in her arms.

“I did.”

“I am worried about him,” a hint of sadness touched her voice, and she glanced up to meet her husband's eyes. “He has never really taken to me as I had hoped.”

“His mother coddled him too much,” Meren said pragmatically. “As a result, he expects all things to be handed to him, and when they are not, he acts out.”

The pharaoh paused, methodically removing the golden bracers from his wrists as he thought.

“I fear to think how he will react when I refuse to hand him my throne," Meren spoke more to the table than to his wife, setting the jeweled cuffs in the place the tablet once occupied.

He hoped his son knew already the path he would lead now that another son was born. Yet, Merenkahre knew Kahmunrah would cling to the diminishing hope his mother planted in his young mind until the very end

“It is wise, Meren,” she said gently, reaching to caress his arm. “I would have no quarrel if Kah were to be king over my children, if he was a man like you.”

The pharaoh rubbed his naked wrists until the phantom feel of his heavy bracers no longer weighed on him. He had been auspicious in marrying a woman who was so kind with a heart large enough for so many, including a boy who was cruel to her. Often the pharaoh felt undeserving of her benevolence when so much of his youth had been shrouded in violence. He fought wars alongside his father. He had killed men—enjoyed killing men—for the sake of Egypt.

Kah is a man like me…

A knock on their chamber door plucked the pharaoh from his thoughts, and he turned as he spoke, “Enter.”

A young man with dark skin came into the room unaccompanied, dressed in usual Madjay uniform with a khopesh hanging from the belt of his sherndyt. He was lean and muscular, with his hair pulled into neat, long braids. He kneeled before the king and queen in greeting and made no utterance.

“You may rise,” Meren told the boy, motioning that he step forward.

The young Medjay named Kamuzu did as he was asked, but kept a respectful distance and his head bowed.

“What is it that I may do for you, your majesties?" he asked in his deep voice.

“First, might I introduce to you my son, Ahkmenrah,” Meren smiled at the boy still soundly sleeping in Shepseheret’s arms; his hand clasped around one of her fingers.  

“The prince is healthy?” Kamuzu asked, watching Ahkmenrah with attentive, dark eyes.

“So the healers say,” the pharaoh mused, hoping they were right.

Merenkahre turned back to Kamuzu, straightening his posture and getting to business. “How long ago was it that you joined the sacred order of the Medjay?”

“Five years, my king—the start of my fifteenth year”

“Your brothers in arms have told me that you show outstanding skill for your age as well as bravery and loyalty—all fine feats for a Medjay.” Merenkahre smiled at the young man.

“Thank you, my king.”  

“I have asked you here, because it is my wish that you take these attributes and use them to watch over my son. From this moment, until your dying moment, would you protect the Prince Ahkmenrah?”

It took a moment for the pharaohs request to register and finally Kamuzu dropped to his knees.

“You honor me, my king,” he said. “I vow to watch over the prince, from this night, and for all the nights to come.”

The pharaoh motioned for him to rise, and he could tell there was something the boy wanted to ask, but his training and his dutifulness kept him from saying anything.

“You may speak freely,” Meren urged kindly.

Kamuzu pursed his lips and hesitated, all while keeping from meeting the king's gaze, “I do not mean to offend, but why apply such watchful protection over this child and not your others?”

Merenkahre remained quiet for a long time, sifting through the sands of his thoughts, glancing back to his wife than to the young man. There was more than he wished for Shep to know, sorrows that he would fight to keep from his queen, to save her from the weight Meren felt on his shoulders and the knots tangling in is gut.    

“Walk with me,” the pharaoh gestured, placing a gentle hand on the young man’s back and guided them into the hall.

He let the boy's question linger long after the chamber doors had closed, and the two were strolling quietly and absently through the halls.

“There are two concerns that haunt me, regarding my son’s well being,” Merenkahre confessed, speaking softly. “The first, I admit, is out of my own paranoia.”

Kamuzu’s dark eyes were watchful and attentive, and from that singular look of silent compassion, the pharaoh knew he had chosen the right man to protect his son.

“The night Ahkmenrah was born, I dreamt of a time of great sorrow in Egypt, and a boy lying on a funeral slab under a shroud of gold.” Meren’s face crinkled as the image flashed so vividly in his mind it pained him. The vision never revealed the boy’s face nor the reason for such an untimely death, but the thought still haunted Merenkahre.

“The second reason, is my son, Kahmunrah.”

A look akin to understanding flitted over Kamuzu’s features hearing the second concern.

“My first son, I fear is plagued with bitterness and jealousy. He sees no threat in his sisters, but a brother?” Meren paused, taking a deep breath. “Should that envy manifest—”

“I understand, my king,” Kamuzu said gently when the pharaoh couldn’t go on. “You may rest easy. I am honored to protect the prince from any threat. I will gladly lay down my life for him, should the time ever come.”

A sigh of relief escaped past the pharaoh sturdy composure. Knowing Ahkmenrah would always have someone to look out for him put to sleep many of the nagging fears raging inside Meren’s head. He didn’t care if he was being over cautious, it was for the sake of his own heart and the good of the empire to protect the son, he, and Shepseheret shared.

“It is you who has honored me this night with your loyalty, Kamuzu,” Meren shook the young man’s hand firmly, casting him a closed-lip smile. “Thank you. The gods will sing you praise.”

***

Ahkmenrah grew up, healthy and strong; hardly fussing and always smiling. For Kah, his baby brother delivered him a unique challenge. Every accidental glimpse of the child riddled him with hatred and envy, and the reminder that he was not the golden son his father longed for. He avoided the boy at all costs in an attempt to reign in his own jealousy. Kah hoped, that by burying that fury and keeping his focus on the task’s Badru assigned him, Merenkahre would see that he would always be the optimal son.

At 20, Kahmunrah held a significant rank in the pharaoh’s army, had fought numerous campaigns throughout the land, and finally got a taste of what real power could be. He had men who followed him; advisors respected his council and even his father cast him a proud smile the day he was granted a seat at the pharaoh’s counsel table. It was enough to sate his hunger for a time, but Kahmunrah would never truly be happy until he held the crown.

***

At the age of four, Merenkahre could see a world of difference in Ahkmenrah. At the same age, Kahmunrah was already bossy and cruel, with a temper only his mother could soothe. Ahk was all smiles, profoundly inquisitive and as kind as his mother. He toddled after his sisters, giggling wanting to play, and to learn. Traits that the pharaoh watched carefully, and encouraged so that as he grew, the prince would never lose them.

On the eve of the beginning of Ahkmenrah’s fifth year, Merenkahre called a special meeting with his council, early one morning before most of the palace had woken. The men at the table greeted him with practiced bows and offered him their unyielding attention—a collective question on each of their brows: why were they there?

“My friends, the queen, and I have come to a decision, that I now bring to you out of respect; so that I may weigh your thoughts with my own.” Merenkahre’s voice never stuttered or lost it’s robust bravado as he spoke. He knew in his heart that his ruling was wise.

The pharaoh’s team of advisors remained silent. The unspoken question pressing deeper onto their expressions as they waited.

“Come his fifteenth year, I will step down as pharaoh, and Ahkmenrah will be crowned king of this mighty empire.”

“You plan to deny Kahmunrah his crown?” it was Badru who spoke- Consul of Montu, and the man whom Merenkahre had charged with training his eldest son.

“I do,” the pharaoh said firmly. “Kahmunrah does not possess the traits of a good king. His feats are best used where he is. I will name him to my counsel, but nothing more."

“He will not take kindly to this, my king,” Badru said, his tone steady but free of contempt.

“I know,” Meren sighed. “Which is why no one is to tell him; to save us and to save him from the bitterness that will surely plague him—for as long as we can.”

A hush fell over the interior of the council chamber as every man considered the pharaoh's new ruling.

“For what it’s worth,” Badru spoke up. “I think it’s wise to name your youngest, king. Our people will thrive. But I fear for him too.”

Meren’s throat grew tight hearing the man’s warning, and he was reminded of the vision he’d had the night of Ahkmenrah’s birth: the boy under the golden shroud. He chased it away, however; along with the sick feeling that had accompanied it and went about the rest of the meeting, gaining nothing but support for the future Pharaoh Ahkmenrah.

***

In the middle of the prince’s fifth year, Merenkahre and Shepseheret welcome their last child, another girl, Shetshepsut. In some regards, little Set was Ahkmenrah’s twin; they shared the same smile and features: pouted lips and wide eyes, except hers were dark, but just as inquisitive. The prince was fascinated by his tiny sister, spending every moment around her and their mother; even begging to sleep in her crib so that he may keep her safe from everything that could harm her.  

“I have to protect her,” Ahkmenrah told his mother sternly as he clung to her leg while she laid the sleeping infant into her cradle.

“And why do you feel like you must protect her?” Shepseheret mused with a smile, tucking in her daughter.

“I am her brother,” the prince stated dutifully. “Her big brother.”

The smile on the queen's lips grew tenfold, and she picked up her boy, kissing him on his cheek and hugging him.

“Oh my sweetest love,” she sang wistfully. “Your little sister is lucky to have you.”

Ahkmenrah smiled, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and wrapped his tiny arms around his mother’s neck. He nestled himself there, and she held him even when her arms began to tire from his weight. Shepseheret loved all of her children, but Ahkmen’s gentleness made her heart swell to an impossible size every single time she witnessed it. He would surely do Egypt some good; as long as Kahmunrah did not try to take it from him.

Shepseheret willed those thoughts out of her mind and pulled her son away enough that she could look into his big, blue-grey eyes. “Your father, told me today that he wanted to speak to you in the throne room.”

Ahkmenrah’s face lit up.

“Do you think you can get there by yourself while I stay here and protect your sister?”

He nodded, “Yes! Kamuzu will go too.”

The queen kissed his cheek again and sat him back on the stone ground, “Mmhm, Kamuzu surely will.”

The little prince had always been taken with his Medjay protector. For a long time Ahkmenrah thought he was his big brother until Merenkahre informed him the only brother he had was Kahmunrah. That truth had put a frown on Ahk’s face, claiming that Kah did not like to play with him and watch out for him like Kamuzu did.  

Merenkahre was seated in his throne, his only company the legion of Medjay guarding the room. He had spent the better part of his day fighting off a twinge of guilt that had been writing in his gut since he’d woken with the notion of finally telling his second son that he would be king. Kah had been pleased enough to be given a seat at the council table, but something told Meren that taste of power would only make his son more envious when he learned he would never hold Egypt.

The sound of the throne room door opening pulled Merenkahre out of his thoughts and quirked his lips into a smile as his young son came running to him. Quickly, he pulled Ahkmenrah into his lap and the look on his son's face was enough to steer away that lingering guilt.  

“Tell me, Ahkmen, what do you think it takes to be a king?”

The smile on the prince's face faltered slightly, and he shrugged.

“Well, then let me teach you,” Meren gave his son a quick smile that Ahkmenrah returned, his wide eyes twinkling with the want to learn. “A king must be wise, and strong. He must take into consideration the thoughts of his councilors and act on not merely his own. And he must also be kind- there is power in kindness, Ahkmenrah. You must always remember that.”

The prince nodded, “Are you all those things?”

Merenkahre sighed, “I try to be—”

“I think you are a good king,” Ahkmenrah said with a sure grin.

“I believe you will be far better,” the pharaoh said, watching his son’s face to see if he understood.

Ahkmenrah’s tiny features contorted with confusion before settling on a look of gentle awe.

“I can be like you?” his wide eyes danced to the crown on his father’s head with wonderment.

“Would you like that?” Meren tested.

Ahkmenrah nodded, still transfixed with the golden headdress his father wore.

The pharaoh stood and placed his son on the throne, the sudden movement causing a slight giggle to sound from Ahkmenrah’s lips. Meren removed his crown and placed it on the prince's’ head. He giggled again when the wide rim fell almost to his nose—swallowing most of the boy’s head and the curls on top of it. The sight prompted a deep chuckle from the pharaoh’s chest, and he quickly committed it to his memory.

“Now, we mustn’t tell your brother, Kahmunrah, about these conversations that we have,” Merenkahre said sternly, placing his crown back onto his head. “Understand.”

The joy waned on his son's face, and his tiny brows stitched together. “Why?”

So inquisitive-- the pharaoh mused, “Because your brother needs to focus on his own lessons.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like one. Merenkahre did not have it in him to tell his son the entire truth--a child need not know of their enemy so long as their parents were there to protect them.

Ahkmenrah accepted his father’s explanation without pressing the matter further and hopped down from the throne, toddling off with Kamuzu in tow. As Merenkahre watched his precious son leave, the vision of the boy under a funeral shroud filled his mind with fear

Next Chapter-> Chapter Two: The Girl in the Garden

[puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig]

If You Want To Get Warm You Must Stand Near The Fire (Parts 8 & 9)

Warnings: Angst (most of it mine :P)

Very Important Note: I have been staring at this for hours and days. I hate, hate, hate, writing sex scenes. I just feel so awkward doing it, and I hate it, because I want Hope and Guy to make beautiful love :( If anyone wants to write them for me, I will be grateful, give you credit, send you puppies, or whatever else you ask. For now, after spending hours reading other people’s erotica trying to breathe some life to my fossilised imagination, I’m just going ahead and posting this. I’m not tagging anyone this time, because frankly I’m too embarrassed and cross at myself that I can’t even do this in the privacy of my own mind. If you think it’s not completely cringe worthy, throw me a comment or a reblog. I promise I’ll try to get over myself and tag people next time. Ok you’ve all been encouraging nd lovely so I will stop being a giant infant and tag people for this too. Thanks, and sorry if I seemed to be high maintenance compliment-fishing!

After that day, Hope was amazed to see a side to Guy that she never expected. That night he showed up in her bedroom, smiling like the cat that got the cream; she moved to make space for him and he spent the night draped over her, much to the disgust of Falkor, who had been displaced to the foot of the bed. He did the same again the next night, and the next, and it quickly became a routine.

During the day they would potter along companionably, Guy slowly exploring and learning more about how everything worked. Hope had imagined that he would have a hard time with a lot of modern concepts and inventions, but to her surprise and relief, Guy was stoically accepting of most things. It seemed like, once he had fixed in his mind the fact that this was the year 2020, he just expected that a lot of things would not make sense. Guy, thought Hope, was the most practical man she’d ever met. He was far from unintelligent, but surrounded with all this newness, he didn’t bother with the how and why -he just methodically collected every new skill she showed him and moved on to the next one.

She also discovered that he had a really dry sense of humour, when he let himself show it. He had this habit of looking up for a reaction when he made a joke -Guy was a man who liked an audience, Hope was realising.

He never offered her any words of affection during the days, although in unspoken ways he was behaving very differently than he had before.

From being stiff and distant he became surprisingly tactile, always touching her back, running a hand down her arms, breathing in her ear... Then, every evening, they got in the same bed, had sex, and slept holding each other through the night.

It was a fragile equilibrium, and Hope was finding herself holding her breath. She was very aware that things couldn’t stay like this for too long. One way or another, Guy would have to move on soon.

Chapter 9

One evening, Hope was sitting up in bed with Guy’s head on her lap. She was ostensibly reading a book, but in reality kept peering over the top at his eyelashes casting a shadow on his pale cheeks, his long nose, his thin, clever lips. He was drowsy, looking relaxed, but his fingers kept dancing just under the hem of her shirt.

I’m getting too attached... she thought to herself.

He’s not some stray you can adopt, Poppet, Gran’s voice was in her head again, spelling out her thoughts like she had when she was alive. Hope sighed, and closed her book.

“Guy?”

“Mmmmm?”

“Sing me a song...”

“Mmm.” His fingers travelling higher, playing with her breast. “There are better ways to pass the time.”

“Come on, sing me a song!”

Amused, she flicked his nose, and he glared at her.

“I’m not a minstrel!”

“And I’m not Freddie Mercury, but you still got me to sing.”

“Ah, but that was for your own good.”

“So is this. I’m getting bored, I might leave in a minute,” she teased him.

“I don’t know any songs,” Guy groaned, then gave up when Hope pretended to be getting up.

“Paura pichona,

Perqué plorar?

Lo niu d'ironda

Va s'envolar.

Paura pichona,

Cal pas plorar,

Ambe l'aureta

Lo niu vendrà.

Paura pichona,

Consòla-te,

Lo niu d'ironda

Tornarà ben.”

“That’s lovely,” breathed Hope. “What is it?”

Guy blinked. “It’s a lullaby,” he said, “my mother used to sing it. I didn’t think I’d remember it.”

“What language is that?”

“Occitan. My mother was French.”

“Tell me about your life, before,” Hoped asked him, and Guy was torn. On the one hand, having someone want to get to know him better was a very nice feeling, and not one he was accustomed to. On the other hand he really didn’t feel like going back, even just in his mind. What good could possibly come from it? Everything he had worked for all these years was gone, and all that was left was the taint.

He compromised by shrugging and keeping it short. “Not much to tell. I worked for the Sheriff for years, ran things for him. I was...” (Feared? Loathed?) “...respected,” was what he settled on.

“Do you want to go back?” Hope hated how needy she sounded, but she couldn’t help herself. Don’t go back...

Guy shook his head. “No. Things got... bad. There’s nothing left for me there.” There really isn’t, he thought bitterly. All these years of putting up with Vaisey’s whims and humiliations, all the bits of himself he had had to amputate and shed in the process of rebuilding the Gisborne name and fortune, and there was nothing to show for it all.

“No... family?”

“No.” None to speak of...

Guy had had enough of these questions, now. What difference did it make, picking at the past like a scab? He had lost everything and had to start from scratch before, and, although he would never have chosen it, it appeared he had to do the same again. So be it. Guy was surprised to find the thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have. All the ambition that drove him for so many years had been burnt away, turned to ashes in the blaze that was Marian’s death, and in its place a need for revenge had grown like a twisted, blackened tree that had survived a forest fire. But now, after being away for just a few days, his appetite for revenge had left him. Let Isabella have Nottingham, let Hood have Sherwood. They could kill each other, for all he cared, he was done. I want to stay here... With Hope, Guy realised. Why not? He liked being around her, she had the means to help him, and she responded to him in a way that was very... flattering. She sure as hell was a better choice of someone to throw his lot in with, than Vaisey had been, Guy knew.

No one would accuse him of having a poet’s soul, but Hope reminded him of the sun-drenched fields in France. She reminded him of the Earth. She was generous, and nurturing, and warm, and vast, and heavy, and, Guy thought, she grounded him.

“Your turn,” he said, changing the subject. “And none of those songs about the men you killed.”

Hope giggled. “I’ve told you, that was Freddie Mercury. We’ve got to do something about your musical education.”

“Now seems a good time to start!”

“Right, ok...” Hope scrunched her forehead, trying to think of a song. “I know, this is one my dad used to sing to me when I was a teenager and got in a strop.

#In the crazy world

Anything can happen

If you will it to

I'm just a hazy girl

Blurring all the edges

Only seeing blue

It's a wild hope

A wild hope

A wild hope

Everything will be alright.”

“Wild Hope, hmmm?” Guy murmured against her neck. “I’d like to hear more about that...”

Guy is back in Locksley, about to get married.

“Are you married, Thornton?”

“I was. She died, years ago.”

“Did your wife... understand you?”

“I’d like to think so, yes.” The old servant’s kindly face twists into a mocking parody of itself. “We were both human, you see. So we could understand each other. No one understands you... because there is no humanity left in you, is there, Gisborne? No heart... Just the howling void.

Don’t look inside you Gisborne. You know what they say happens, when you look into the abyss... It looks back.”

Thornton’s face twists again, morphing into Vaisey.

“Lepers, Gisborne... You were always running after lepers. I wonder why that is, hmmm? Could it be -rot calling to rot? Like father, like son, eh?”

Maggots are squirming out of Vaisey’s eyes now, he smiles widely and his jeweled tooth winks at Guy. “My boy...” The Sheriff leans close, his carrion breath stroking Guy’s face like a promise. “I made you. I know you...”

“Nooooo...”

“What is it, Guy?” It’s Marian’s voice, and he opens his eyes and sees her smiling, looking down at him. “It’s just a nightmare, it’s not real.” She strokes his forehead with her cool fingers, and pulls up the blankets, tucking him in.

“It’s not real, none of it was ever real, you stupid boy... Only the sand, the sand is real and it gets COLD, Guy, I’m COLD, it’s COLD where you sent me.”

And the floor turns to sand, the bed turns to sand, it’s in Guy’s mouth, in his nostrils, and everything goes dark.

“Paura pichona,

Consòla-te,

Lo niu d'ironda

Tornarà ben.”

“Mother? I destroyed everything, mother...”

“Shhhh, Fiéu mèus. It’s fine. Nothing is destroyed, just changing. Lo niu tornarà ben, remember.

Look, the door is open. Go out in the sun for a bit, it will do you good.”

# It’s a wild hope,

A wild hope,#

“-everyone deserves to be loved-“

#A wild hope,

Everything will be alright.#

Hope started awake in the middle of the night. Guy was kicking her, tangled in the covers, obviously having a nightmare. She reached over to turn the bedside light on, intending to wake him up, but then he suddenly sat up, calling out her name.

“Hope!”

“Shhh... I’m here.”

Before Hope could ask what was wrong, Guy was on her like a starving man, kissing her desperately, cupping her breasts, pressing against her like he was trying to bury his whole self inside her. He was holding her so tightly that it was almost hurting her, but Hope couldn’t bring herself to care. Something had changed. Guy’s teeth and tongue were all over her, and Hope could feel him tremble. She had never realised how much he held back every other time she’d been with him. Instinctively, she put her hands on his face and kissed him back, keeping her eyes on his. She just felt like, more than anything else, he needed to be seen..

Guy pulled his head back and looked at her. His pupils were so dilated that his blue eyes looked almost black.

“Tell me you want to be with me,” he begged.

“I want to be with you.”

He moaned and reached between her legs, pulled her underwear aside and pushed inside her.

“Say it again.”

“I want to - Oh! - I want to be with you. I want you to stay with me. Guy! I love you...”

He rained kisses all over her face, thrusting, and it was all over so quickly; but that felt right, too. She stroked his face and kissed him, and Guy stared at her, lost for words.

“Hope... You deserve to be loved. I don’t know that there’s enough good left in me to do that.”

She kissed him again, and spoke his words back to him. “Hush. I know it’s hard. But it hurts more if you fight it.”

Notes:

*The Occitan lullaby is this one: https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=3877

Can’t say I’m sure how old it is, but I’m sure Ghislaine would have sung something similar.

*The song Hope sings is Wild Hope, by Mandy Moore.

*Fiéu mèus: my son

Lo niu tornarà ben: The nest will come back again.

Tagging: @whofriend @moony-artnstuff @fizzyxcustard @tigereyesf @guylty @xxbyimm @dumbassunderthemountain @aspookybunny @patanghill17 @ruthoakenshield

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 20

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3153

A/N: Welcome back to a new chapter of AASB! Again, sorry for taking so long with posting this, but shit happens. Am I shooting myself in the foot by posting this at noon on a Sunday? Potentially. Am I just so damn excited to release this that I can’t wait any longer? Absolutely. Feedback is always appreciated and, if you enjoyed, I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblog.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20: Word to the Wise

If you had thought the Underworld to be vast before, discovering there’s an entire cave system beneath Hell smashes your former mental blueprint to bits. At this point, nothing about the Underworld, or anything involving Michael, should surprise you, but it still manages to catch you off-guard. Michael grips your hand as you stumble down the uneven ground, eyes fixated on the crystals that seem to grow from the ceiling of the caves.

“Y’know, when you insinuated your friends weren’t Greek, I thought you were actually giving me a hint and we’d go somewhere exciting, like Norway,” you say before nearly tripping over a rock.

“And I thought you would know by now that I’m almost never going to tell you the truth when you ask me to reveal something.”

“A girl can only hope, Michael.” The cave seems as if it’s never-ending, and you strain your eyes to see in the semidarkness. “Who lives all the way down here, a hydra?”

“Yes, but not in this particular area.”

Your eyes widen. “Damn, I was joking, but that’s good to know.”

“How much do you know about the Moirai?” At the bemused look on your face, he elaborates. “The Fates?”

“They...control peoples’ fates?” you say slowly, knowing that Michael will be happy with any answer you give him, even if it’s the wrong one.

“They write out the strands of fate for everyone, mortal or god.”

“Well, guess that philosophical debate has now been solved.” Michael snickers quietly. “So, we’re going to see what they know about different ways to go about this whole immortality business?”

“I’m hoping that if I call in a couple of favors, the Fates will give us a small glimpse of your future. Just enough to know where we need to be going in order to find immortality.”

Michael stops you in front of what, at first, looks to be a dead end. You’re about to turn to him and ask where a wrong turn was made when you notice small cracks that form a square. 

“Secret door?” you can barely contain your excitement; out of all of the wild and fantastical things you’ve gotten to see and do since Michael whisked you down the Hellmouth, exploring secret doors was not one of them.

(Secret hallways, yes, but that was a disaster that you never want to relive)

“Yes, a secret door,” Michael smiles at you. “Would you like to do the honors?”

If Michael thought your wonder upon seeing the Underworld’s library was childlike, that hardly compares to the guileless surprise on your face now. 

“Seriously?” He nods, and you stifle a squeal that wouldn’t be very becoming of the future queen of this realm. 

Placing your hand on the rock, a simple push is all that it takes for the door to swing open as if it’s made of paper, revealing an entire warehouse inside of what you thought would be a small cavern. There’s shelves upon shelves of what looks to be rows of film, are stretching back for at least a mile. While it seems like an operation so large would be hectic, it’s actually quite calm. Some upbeat 80s pop music plays in the distance, and a small woman with dark skin and wild curls sits at a large desk in front of you. She’s hunched over an enlarger, forehead creased in concentration as she sifts through some film. It’s only when Michael clears his throat that she looks up, gasping in excitement.

“King Hades!” she greets, eyes flickering to you. “And you’ve brought your consort!” 

Michael begins to shake his head. “No, not yet, remem-” but the woman is in front of you in a flash, almost bouncing in excitement.

“We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, (Y/N),” she smiles widely at you.

“So long, in fact, we were beginning to worry that we were going to be wrong about something for the first time in history!” a voice chimes in from the back, the sweet soprano tone echoing through the shelves. Although you try not to laugh, Michael’s red cheeks ruin that gimmick for you.

“Clotho,” Michael calls, “always one to hide where I can’t see you when you decide to make one of your infamous comments.”

A younger girl with her curls done up in a bun, although still identical to the one gripping your hands, skips out from between the shelves of film. “Oh my, she’s even prettier than what was prophesied!” 

Now it’s your cheeks that heat up. “You flatter me, really.”

“(Y/N), these are two of the three Fates. Clotho,” he gestures to the teenage girl, “is assigned the present. Lachesis,” the one holding onto you, “works solely on the future. Where’s Atropos?”

“Hmm, she’s around here somewhere,” Clotho says, scanning the room for any sign of the missing Fate.

“Sister!” Lachesis calls out. “Sister, come say hello!”

“One moment!” A door opens off to the side of the shelves, and another girl, even younger than Clotho, beams at you. “Hello!”

“Atropos,” Michael greets the Fate, who looks to be only 10.

“So you control the past, then?” you ask, watching her curls bounce as she nods. It makes sense, then, why each girl is younger than her sister. Place the three chronologically and it’s three different stages of development: past, present, and future.

“What brings you to our domain today, Hades?” Lachesis asks.

“We were hoping you could help us with an answer we’re searching for.” Michael follows the three as they walk towards the desk, leaving you no choice but to follow with them.

“And what question are you looking to have answered?”

“You’re all probably aware that I can’t stay here for an extended period of time,” you take over the explanation.

Clotho nods. “Yes, although it was very impressive to watch you complete the Seven Wonders with so little formal training.”

“Then you know that we’re currently searching for a more permanent way for me to stay here?”

“Of course we know, we’re the ones that wrote out how this would go,” Clotho says haughtily, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be rude, sister,” Lachesis quips, “mortals don’t learn about us like they used to.” 

“Remind us, (Y/N), what methods have you already sought out?”

“Besides the Seven Wonders? Just the pomegranates that grow on the banks of the River Styx, but I worry that I’ll lose my humanity and my ability to go back Above if I eat a fruit that binds me to the Underworld.”

“You were right to be wary,” Atropos says. “We’ve seen far too many mortals eat the entire fruit, not being aware of the consequences.”

“Which are?”

“Being bound to the Underworld is a big one, but you also lose claim over your soul.”

You look at Michael with accusing eyes. “You knew, and yet you still offered that pomegranate to me!”

“I was hoping that it would affect you differently, being that you’re meant to be Queen of the Underworld,” Michael attempts to explain patiently.

“Great, so you were potentially risking my soul based solely on a hunch.”

“I figured that, if that were to occur, I could simply give your soul back to you. There’s not exactly an instruction manual for mortals coming into my kingdom and eating the fruit from one specific tree that would then keep them here.”

“Your theory doesn’t make me feel any better about possibly dying once again, Michael.” One of the Fates awkwardly clears her throat, and you can feel embarrassment welling in your stomach like a balloon. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have been fighting like that. Are...are there any other possible solutions besides the pomegranate?”

The three sisters look at each other, having a silent conversation that seems to stretch on for decades. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, we’d like to discuss this privately. There’s certain parts of a future that we cannot reveal, but we do want to help you,” Lachesis says apologetically. 

“Please, take as much time as you need,” Michael murmurs, waving off their apologies. The Fates disappear through the door the youngest sister came through minutes before, Michael’s eyes on you the moment the door shuts.

“I’m not mad at you, Michael,” you say quietly. 

“You should be. I was careless, and I got ahead of myself without thinking of the possible consequences. I put your life, your soul, at stake, simply because I was...I was…”

“You were being stupid is what you were doing.”

Michael nods. “Yes, because I was being stupid. Very stupid, in fact. I’m not used to mortals, my darling, but that is no excuse. I need to learn, especially if we are to be together and you are to retain your humanity. I apologize for my actions in tempting you to eat that fruit, without knowing of the possible effects.”

“I told you that I wasn’t mad at you. I’m just frustrated; you need to learn that we are a couple, and that there are two of us involved in whatever decisions you may make from here on out. I love you, Michael, but my life is much more fragile than yours. I don’t want to take a risk and die and lose you forever.”

“Am I forgiven, then?” Michael’s blue eyes are wide as he pleads with you to not hate him.

“Of course you’re forgiven.” Michael grips your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gratefully. “But don’t do something like this again, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Michael smirks at your unintentional pun, but nods. “Never, love.”

The door opens at that moment, and you and Michael both step apart to resume your previous positions, albeit this time holding hands. Although the eldest is able to conceal her feelings well, her younger sisters prove to not be as well-versed in this skill.

“We have reached an agreement,” Lachesis says, while at the same time Clotho gleefully notices that “you two have made up, then?”

“As if you weren’t aware that this would happen?” You quirk an eyebrow towards the sisters, although you couldn’t be mad at the smiles on their round faces.

“Sometimes there needs to be a bit of conflict in order for couples to become stronger,” Clotho proclaims cryptically. You can’t possibly question the motives of the people who dictate how your life will go, so you simply nod.

“As to the issue of alternate possibilities for immortality?” Michael asks.

“All we can advise you is to ask Hera about golden apples.”

“Golden apples?” You’re visibly confused, and Michael looks to be as well.

“Surely there is something else you can tell us about what else we can do?” Michael prods.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s not.”

“In that case, I thank you for your wisdom and advice with this matter.” The three Fates bow their heads gracefully as Michael leads you out of the cavern, knowing there’s nothing else that they can say.

“What was that even supposed to mean?” you ask incredulously after the door is closed once more and the wall goes back to looking solid. “Ask your sister about golden apples? Are they tripping on acid or something?”

“I can assure you that they are not partaking in any sort of drug usage. The rules on what they can and cannot divulge, however, are extremely strict.”

“Sort of like Back to the Future, then.” Michael looks confused. “It’s a movie, basically he goes to the past and, when he arrives back to the future, everything’s screwed up because of his actions in the past.”

“Yes, then the rules are the same as that in your movie. We must work with what we have, although I’ve never heard anything about Violet and golden apples.”

You shrug. “Let’s go ask her, then! Where does she live? Olympus?”

“No, actually. She prefers to live like a mortal in Oregon.”

“Sounds like Violet.”

Michael smiles. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Can we come and go as we please, now that Satan’s trapped in Cocytus?” Michael’s eyes twinkle with excitement, and he pulls you towards him.

“Show me the Above, beloved.”

Michael transmutes you Above, since you have no clue where in Oregon you’re supposed to be going. You’re in an alleyway, the gray overcast sky lightly sprinkling rain on you. At first, you’re not sure why you’re secluded, but then you look down and realize that you’re both still in the fine dress of the Underworld. With barely a passing thought, you change your outfit to a cozy pink sweater and a pair of light wash jeans, toes flexing comfortably in a pair of sneakers. Michael’s still dressed in all black, and looks as if he came out of a business meeting, but it’s enough of a change that nobody will cast a second glance at his attire. 

“You look cute,” Michael says with a small smile, “this style of clothing suits you.”

“Cute enough for you to relax your rules about me only wearing dresses made Below?”

Michael doesn’t say anything as he begins to walk out of the alley with you, but the glance he gives you is confirmation enough that jeans and t-shirts are in your future. Walking through the glass doors into an apartment building, you shoot a smile and a wave at the security guard, who waves back. 

“What was that?” Michael mutters, waiting as you press the button for the elevator.

“Basic human decency.”

“Ha,” Michael laughs dryly, standing awkwardly in the elevator as you look at him expectantly. “What?”

“Which floor does your sister live on?”

“Oh, yes.” He jabs at the button to the top floor, which is not at all surprising.

“Should we have called ahead? I feel a little rude just showing up unexpected.”

“Knowing Violet, she’ll be on the other side of the doors when they--” the elevator dings and the doors open, proving Michael right when you’re both faced with Violet’s sweet smile.

“What a surprise!” She nearly dislocates your shoulder as she pulls you into a hug, trying to get out a muffled greeting with her hair in your face.

“Violet, you’re going to smother her,” Michael chuckles, pulling his sister away from you so that he can hug her as well. She gives him a one-armed hug, her other hand holding her large-brimmed hat to her head. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Nonsense, it’s never a bad time for either of you to show up. Come,” she begins to walk down the hall, swinging open the door to a large, airy apartment.

The floor-length windows allow muted sunshine to fill the apartment, helping to grow the variety of plants that sit on tables and the floor. Music plays softly from a record player, and you can smell some sort of citrus wafting from the kitchen. A meow has you looking down at the ground, and you grin when a black cat with green eyes comes to rub up against your legs.

“Forgive Morrissey, he loves guests.”

You crouch down to pet the friendly animal between the ears. “I didn’t peg you as a Smiths fan, Vi.”

“I like the melancholic, angsty artists of the 70s and 80s.” The cat doesn’t offer any resistance when you go to pick him up, so you gather him in your arms and follow Violet and Michael to the living room. “So what brings you to my home today?”

“We were actually led here by the Fates,” Michael says as he accepts a cup of tea from Violet. You shake your head when she offers one to you, and she takes it for her own instead.

“Oh?”

“We went to them seeking answers about another potential alley for (Y/N)’s immortality, one that doesn’t involve her losing her humanity and also allows her to leave the Underworld for Above at her leisure. Obviously, if she ate the pomegranate that grows on the banks of the River Styx, she would most likely be bound to the Underworld forever.”

“How did I become involved in your conversation?”

“They said to ask you about golden apples, but that’s all they would say,” you speak up, Morrissey leaving your arms to curl up on Michael’s lap.

“Well, there’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a while. After young Heracles attempted to steal them from me, the world forgot about them, which is for the best.”

“Why are they so dangerous?”

“The golden apples that grow in my garden and are protected by the Hesperides give immortality to any mortal who takes a bite.” You gasp, and even Michael stiffens beside you.

“There’s no restrictions to it? It’s just...immortality?” Michael asks in disbelief, Violet nodding begrudgingly.

“Yes, but…”

“‘But’ what?”

“I’m wary of divulging the location of these to you, to anybody. People have misused and abused these apples for centuries, even leading to wars.”

“Violet, I’m your brother,” Michael hisses.

“And Heracles was my husband’s son!” The cat growls in warning, hair standing up on his back as he hops off of Michael and hides at the tension growing thick in the room. Violet breathes deeply before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but you need to understand that these apples could cause the end of humanity if they fall into the wrong hands.”

“What if,” you think out loud, “what if you were to get the apple for us, Vi? Neither Michael nor I would know the location of your garden, and you’d be doing us an immense favor.”

“It’s a good idea, sister,” Michael chimes in.

“Yes, but there’s a million things that could go wrong on your way back to the Underworld.” You frown, but Violet’s eyes suddenly widen as she gets an idea. “Hold on. What if I did get the apple, and then had Hermes deliver it to you? That way, the location remains a secret, and it’s almost guaranteed that it will be delivered safely to you in the Underworld.”

“Oh, Violet!” You can’t help yourself from throwing your arms around her. “Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me!”

“You have no idea how much this means to us,” Michael amends.

“As I’ve said before, (Y/N) will make a wonderful queen, and a wonderful addition to our family.” You pull away from her, allowing her to stand up and drift towards her bookshelf. “It will take me a day or so to acquire the apple. I cannot transmute as you and Michael can, so it will take a combination of meditation and other methods to get the apple. The moment I do, however, I will send it with Hermes to the Underworld.”

“What will we do while we wait?” You ask, not too fond of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs as you wait.

Michael smirks. “Enjoy your last day as a mortal, of course.”

//

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[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 12

<= Chapter 11

Summary : Snatcher and Vanessa have a conversation, featuring someone else. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/55902100

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SORRY FOR POSTING LATE. I was *so* stuck with this chapter that it gave me a writing block and an art block for 2 weeks! Of all the chapters that I had to write and plan to write in the future, it definitely was one of the hardest.

Thinking about writing Vanessa's and Snatcher's conversation was really stressful to me, and, well... I procrastinated on Animal Crossing.

Then I started another AHIT fanfic which helped me to regain my inspiration, but, well, I'll keep this one as a secret for now until I write more of it :)

Please don't hesitate to leave a like or reblog this chapter, as it really has been hard for me to write, more than any I've written until now for this fanfic I think. Thank you in advance !!

Also, no drawing for this chapter, because, well... You know how I have this habit of splitting chapters into several parts when I end up writing too much for a single chapter? Welp, this happened here. So the drawing I had made for this chapter will eventually be used for the 13th chapter, sorry ! I really wish I could have drawn something, but... I didn't know what to draw and I didn't want to make you wait longer, so... Have a drawing-less chapter !

Happy reading !!

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Chapter 12

Snatcher had come to think that humans were fragile little creatures. They were so weak, so easily afraid… Animals with a conscience, driven by instincts and stupid emotions. With shaking knees, they would beg him to spare them, to let them go, but the ghost always killed them afterwards. Listening to their pleas, to their death screams… Sure, the first souls he had snatched hadn’t been for pleasure, though he eventually got used to it. He even got to find it fun! As they always say: time and trauma really do change people!

Humans had distinct signs of fear: rapid breathing, heart pounding inside their chest, sweat all over their face, muscles completely frozen, shaky limbs… He had seen all kinds of reactions from his victims! At this point, one could say he was an expert on that topic. After all, not only had he killed many people after having stolen their souls, but he also murdered them using various and imaginative methods! Thrown into the swamps, blown up by his lasers, drown, hanged, split in two (that one was always fun), and many, many other types of death. Well, he did have to occupy himself during his long and boring afterlife!

But, for the very first time, at that precise moment, he felt exactly like the people he used to kill.

Panic had engulfed him whole, as Vanessa was leading him by the hand through the corridors of the manor. She was in front of him, pulling him faster and faster as seconds passed. Or maybe it was his imagination? If it was, the coldness of her hand certainly wasn’t. Vanessa was clearly mad at him and even his dumb old self would be able to see it. It was obvious: her body was tensed and she was using more strength, as if she was pulling a child somewhere to punish him. Well, it wasn’t very far from the truth, really.

They went through the different floors, and Snatcher could only be relieved not to be taken to the cellar again. Maybe he was going to have a bad time, but at least, it wouldn’t be down there. Every cloud had a silver lining!  He was being positive, here!

The ghost’s fear was soon replaced by confusion, as Vanessa stopped in front of his own bedroom. Why? The shade was almost expecting to be locked up in the attic at this point! Would she really just let him go back to his room without doing anything else than actually talking? He couldn’t believe it. There had to be something.

The Queen opened the door with a smile and pushed herself on the side to let him come in first. With great suspicion, Snatcher complied and entered the room, still staying very much vigilant. Vanessa was vicious, he knew that very well. He couldn’t take the risk of underestimating her or whatever she had planned for him now. His movements were slow and careful and his ex followed him into the room before closing the door behind her. Instinctively, Snatcher stepped away from her, not liking the idea of being alone in the same room as her. It made him feel rightfully quite nervous.

Vanessa dusted her dress a little bit as silence settled between the ex-couple. The ghost gulped down with difficulty, as he could only wait for her to decide what to do next. Eventually, she pointed to his bed, still smiling. However, Snatcher knew her well enough to understand that she wasn’t sincere.

-“Why don’t you sit down, dear?” she asked, in the nicest voice possible. But her eyes weren’t smiling and the sound of her words burnt like poison entering the shade’s ears. It sounded fake.

The ghost’s stance remained defensive as he slowly shook his head, frowning. He really didn’t like where this was going. It was way better than being shackled on the cellar’s wall, obviously, but that didn’t mean he would accept everything in comparison.

-“I’m fine standing up, thank you,” he replied, in a much harsher tone than what he first intended. He was still afraid -who wouldn’t be in his shoes?- but he had a lot of unfinished business with that awful woman.

The Queen’s smile wavered for an instant and Snatcher didn’t need to see more to know that he had annoyed her. Well, retorting always upset her in the past: it wasn’t much different now. Vanessa had always been hot-blooded, anything could get her angry or upset. Not being given what she wanted irritated her, not being able to do something exasperated her, and not being obeyed to made her mad. Especially if her Prince was the one to disagree with her.

-“I wasn’t asking,” replied Vanessa coldly. It contrasted even more with the fake smile on her face.

Snatcher understood quite fast the threat hidden in her answer: if he wasn’t going to sit down, she would make him. And honestly, he didn’t want to try and test her patience, even more when he knew how irritable she could be when things didn’t go her way. Silently and reluctantly, the shade complied once again, not without glaring at her in the process.

He hated her so much. He hated how selfish she was and had always been to him. He hated the very idea of having been in love with her in the past. And he loathed the fact that he could die a second time because of her.

He waited, knowing quite well that Vanessa wouldn’t appreciate him interrupting her one more time. Usually, Snatcher didn’t care about people’s feelings, especially Vanessa’s, but since he was now a mere mortal against someone who had mastered ice magic… He didn’t feel confident enough to put up a big fight.

Plus… He needed all possible chances to find that Time Piece, and creating problems wouldn’t help him in the least. If he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, he had to put his pride aside. Yet, he absolutely loathed the idea of submitting to Vanessa, even just for a while. After everything she did to him… And kept doing, considering the position he was in at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to strangle her and kill her for good. Twice.

-“Now…” The Queen’s voice cut his inner monologue short and he got his attention back on her: “Where were you today?” was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

Snatcher felt all the muscles of his body turn cold as soon as the words came to his ears. He had expected that question, yes, but it was always different to imagine a situation and actually experiencing it. As for where he was, well… He definitely had no intention of mentioning the kid nor her spaceship in any way. So he could only come up with excuses and hope for the best. But, deep down, he was worried and rightfully so: Vanessa always knew how to tell if he was lying or not. Sure, Snatcher had become better at it with years of being dead, but so did she.

He really was nervous, and keeping a straight face in front of his murderer was far from easy:

-“I went for a walk after the argument with my parents,” he answered with the most neutral voice he could make: “Am I not allowed to do that?”

His ex’s smile widened in return, though Snatcher could tell that it certainly wasn’t a good thing. The way she was looking at him was enough to inform him that she was growing impatient and exasperated with him. She probably saw through his lies right away, just like he feared. But it didn’t change the fact that he absolutely could not talk about the kid. Not to her.

-“Oh, you are, you are!” she replied with a sweet voice, joining both hands together as she continued: “But I have to admit that I have some doubts.”

There it was. Snatcher gulped down in a way he hoped to be discreet, but he knew better.

-“With your broken leg, and the other one being quite injured as well… I have trouble imagining you going very far, especially for a whole day! Don’t you find it strange as well, Alistel?”

It was indeed very strange. Finding a reason for such a long absence, especially with how painful walking was to him… He had to admit that his excuse wasn’t a good one, to begin with. However, that didn’t prevent him from retorting, lifting his hands as he spoke again:

-“Well, it’s the truth. What do you want me to say?”

His attitude must have annoyed the Queen a bit too much, as the smile finally disappeared from her face. It was replaced by a much more serious expression that didn’t reassure Snatcher at all. She stepped closer to him, shortening the distance between them.

-“I know you’re aware of what’s going on,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on his. She stopped just in front of him, while the ghost’s breath got stuck in his throat. He didn’t like where this was going and he disliked the look on her face even more. Before he was able to move, she gently put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to remain where he was. Snatcher’s entire body froze from the contact and his heart skipped a beat. He felt like a bucket full of cold water had just been dumped right on him.

He was terrified. As much as he wanted to scream at her, doing so while she was so close to him, when she was much more powerful than him… His mind wanted to fight, but his body turned a deaf ear. Snatcher wanted to tell her to let go of him, to go away… But he couldn’t. No sound came out of his opened mouth.

All he could do was to listen, as she continued, this time with a nicer tone that felt strangely more sincere than before:

-“I know you…‌Remember,” she started again, lightly digging her fingers in the shade’s shoulders, who was completely unable to move at that point: “And I know you might still be mad at me for what happened… But you left me no choice!”

Snatcher frowned: what did she just say?

He didn’t have the time to ask her that as she kept going, not letting him the time to interrupt:

-“I may have overdone it, yes… But you were the one who cheated on me in the first place!”

Snatcher couldn’t believe what he was hearing at that moment. Was she seriously trying to defend herself for having murdered him? She couldn’t be that stupid, could she? Though, the sincere expression painted on her face was enough of an answer to him. She was convinced that everything that had happened was his fault, not hers.

She was exactly the same as before. She had never changed in all those years. She was still the same old Queen that never wanted to admit being responsible for a problem. She had never regretted what she had one to him or to all the Subcon villagers, even the children. All that mattered to her was her own happiness, no matter what she had to break or destroy to obtain it.

The ghost had never wanted to kill her so badly in his entire life and afterlife combined.

-“Are you being serious right now?” he finally replied, with a very dangerous tone.

Vanessa remained stunned for a while, probably not expecting that kind of response from him.

-“What do you mean?” she asked, confused. She then placed both of her hands over her heart and continued, offended: “Of course I am! You can’t have forgotten what you did to me! You broke my heart and flirted with… With that woman!”

Snatcher’s brows rose as his anger was becoming more and more palpable as time passed. So she was being serious, and he wasn’t even surprised. A dense feeling of hatred engulfed him as he glared at her.

-“I broke your heart? Excuse me? You broke mine!” He was so outraged by what she had just told him that he couldn’t help but stand up, forcing her to step back. Words were leaving his mouth on their own, as if finally, he had the chance of getting everything out of his chest: “I was buying you flowers! Because I was in love with you! And what did you do when I came back with them? You locked me up in a cellar and left me to die! And I’m the one who broke your heart? Please, stop, you’re making things worse for yourself, here.”

He stopped, catching his breath. In front of him, Vanessa was silent, unmoving, as if she was still processing what he had just screamed at her. She seemed astonished and Snatcher quickly understood why: he had never raised his voice against her like this. She did. That was certainly why she was so surprised. But soon, her bewilderment was replaced by fury, as her brows frowned and her face became redder and redder with anger. The air around her suddenly became much colder and the ghost could see the tip of her hair turning black. Her eyes were turning red and she was glaring at him in a way she had never done before. She was livid.

-“You’re lying! You never loved me! You played with me!” She suddenly pointed an accusing finger at him: “You went to see her today, didn’t you?”

Snatcher’s face grew pale. Did she know about the kid? He gulped down with difficulty.

-“What are you talking about?” he questioned, trying to look ignorant enough. But his ex wasn’t buying it and the ghost jumped when she screamed once again:

-“That florist!” Ice spread on the ground around her as her voice resonated in the room and probably in the entire manor too. “Anger” wasn’t enough to describe her state of mind at the moment. Her hair was becoming blacker as seconds went by and she seemed out of breath, as if, just like him, she was getting something out of her chest: “I’m giving us the chance to get things right, to erase your past mistakes, and that’s how you’re thanking me? You ingrate!”

Snatcher was well past simple “anger” as well the second she pronounced those last sentences. She couldn’t have said that, she couldn’t be that stupid… But here she was, telling him how she was doing the right thing, like she was the mature adult in this story!

What a joke.

-“You? Doing the right thing?” He stepped forward, making her back away once again: “Don’t make me laugh,” he responded, in the most spiteful tone he could manage.

The shade then pointed to their surroundings:

-“You think this is real, Vanessa? You think you’re doing me, us, a favour by doing this? Well, newsflash! You’re not! And you know why?” Vanessa remained silent, though returned him his glare, as he kept going: “All of this is fake! It doesn’t exist! It’s an imitation of the past! Don’t tell me you actually believe this is real.”

-“You’re lying,” she simply answered, as serious as he was a few moments ago. She was clearly displeased and in denial. She always has been, in the end. This was what had led him to his first death and what would lead to their second one if she continued to remain so stubborn.

-“Oh, I’m lying! I’m always lying, that’s what you think, isn’t it? Well, guess what? I never was! And what I just said? It’s true! Not only everything here is fake, but it’ll be gone in a few days, and so will we! Great way to make things right, Vanessa!”

He clapped his hands sarcastically to emphasize his last sentence. The movement seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, as Vanessa snapped once again. She came back right before him and grabbed his hands to stop him from clapping again. The contact of her gloves against his skin was awful to Snatcher. Her icy hands were a clear sign of her fury. It was so cold that it hurt.

-“You’re lying, you’re lying, you’re lying!” yelled Vanessa, as her hair was now almost completely black and getting sharper, the same way Snatcher’s spectral form became when he was extremely furious: “How would you know?! I did this, not you!”

Because of the pain on his wrists, Snatcher had to clench his teeth not to whine. He still managed to let out a few words, trying his best not to show himself weaker than he already was:

-“Don’t… Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those white cracks appearing out of nowhere!”

As if the words had a special meaning to Vanessa, she suddenly loosened her grip on his wrists. Her enraged expression changed in a blink, replaced by something akin to realization. Her face grew almost as pale as Snatcher’s and she let go of his hands, still keeping them in the air, shocked.

She had seen them. That was what it meant.

-“Those are not… That’s not what he-” she stuttered, looking elsewhere as an inner fight seemed to be going on in her mind. Snatcher, however, didn’t miss the very important blunder she just made in her attempt to retort something.

She had just said “he”. For the first time in days, he had a concrete clue about the mastermind behind what was happening.

Apparently, she noticed her own mistake and immediately put her hand over her mouth, as if she wanted to silence herself. But it was too late. Snatcher needed to know who that “he” was to her, and also to him.

-“Vanessa. Who’s ‘he’?” he interrogated her, feeling that this was definitely a trail he needed more details on.

The woman simply shook her head silently, refusing to answer him. Though, it really wasn’t enough to stop the shade from wanting to know more. What did stop him, however, was a knock on the door. Both he and Vanessa turned in its direction.

“Well, what a lucky interruption…” thought Snatcher, while glaring at the door. With a quick “come in!”, he allowed the person behind the door to enter the room. Unsurprisingly, Simeon was the one to come in, closing the door behind him. The butler was standing up straight, as usual. In comparison, what was weird was the way Vanessa’s face became paler than it already was. She instantly looked the other way, like a child caught in the act.

“Wait…” Was she reacting this way because of Simeon’s apparition in the room?

Snatcher didn��t have much time to wonder any more on the question, as his inner monologue was cut short by the older man:

-“My apologies, your majesty,” he started, bowing slightly in front of the ex-couple: “I needed to tell you that the doctor is on his way. If you’d like, Prince Alistel, I had someone prepare a bath for you. You must be really tired.”

The man was smiling, but contrary to all the other times the ghost had seen him smile… Something felt wrong. His happiness seemed just as fake as Vanessa’s one a few minutes earlier. Then, there was her reaction to him… It was extremely suspect and Snatcher started to think again about his previous hypothesis. Was the mastermind Simeon? Could it be possible?

But why? It didn’t make any sense! Simeon was dead even before the rift was made! And the hat-wearing child had been very clear: Vanessa couldn’t have been the one to make this time rift. But then… How?

Snatcher didn’t understand, yet… He definitely had the impression that there was something he wasn’t seeing. But it was there, and his ex’s reaction was one of his biggest clues, along with her previous blunder.

Simeon’s stare made the ghost strangely ill-at-ease and, for a reason he couldn’t explain yet, he felt the need to run. But why? Simeon had been the family’s loyal butler! Though, then again, he had been the butler of Vanessa’s family. Not his. And if his hypothesis was right, no matter how far-fetched it was to him… Well, it was best to be extremely careful. Especially if the mastermind was clearly more powerful than the Queen herself.

Snatcher finally nodded and put a fake smile on his lips.

-“Yes, you’re right. I am quite tired,” he declared, moving towards the door. As he passed next to Simeon, he thanked him for the bath. The butler’s smile widened as he replied:

-“Oh, you’re welcome, my Prince. If you need anything else, please tell me, I will do everything in my power to help you.”

-“I will, thank you.”

Snatcher left the room and closed the door behind him. Once he was alone in the hallway, he felt like a huge weight had been removed from his shoulders. He couldn’t tell why exactly, yet he knew that this had to do with what had just happened. Why did he felt this way? Why did Vanessa have reacted so badly? He hated to be in the dark like this, especially knowing that he and the kid had a countdown problem. He didn’t know exactly how much time they had left. The brat had told him “a few days”, but it wasn’t very precise.

Plus, if Vanessa had also witnessed time anomalies… Then, it meant the rift was probably more unstable than what they first thought. They needed to find that Time Piece, fast, and preferably without being caught first.

Instead of leaving to the bathroom like he should have done, he kneeled in front of the door, sticking his ear on the door. If he wanted to be sure about his hypothesis, there weren’t many other possibilities. It’s not like he could ask Vanessa, or even ask Simeon directly! He wasn’t a moron and definitely didn’t have a death wish.

Silence greeted him for a few seconds. At first, he believed that the door was too thick to let sounds go through. However, just as he was about to stand up, he caught up a muffled voice through the wood:

-“You really do not understand, do you?”

Snatcher’s body froze, as he realized that this voice wasn’t Simeon’s nor Vanessa’s. Then who was talking? It was masculine and its intonation had been disapproving. The voice was peculiarly soft and not really deep. In any case, it was a voice the ghost didn’t know. Who was in the room with them? Everything was so much more confusing now!

He frowned and kept listening, trying to find other clues useful to him. Vanessa’s voice was quick to reply to the stranger:

-“I-I’m sorry, I tried to stay calm!” His ex sounded really distressed. The shade never heard her sound like this before and it actually made him feel nervous. If someone was scaring Vanessa, while he did not… Well, this was not good for him and the kid.

Who was that guy?

-“I find it quite weird that you choose to use that excuse again,” retorted the voice, threatening.

Silence ensued and Snatcher remained completely unmoving as he waited for the others to talk again. It didn’t last very long but it truly felt like hours to him.

-“You know,” continued the stranger, “after I decided to help you, I think I made you promise to keep your anger under control. Tell me, do you remember that?”

The spirit could tell very easily from the tone of the voice that it wasn’t really a question.

-“Yes… Yes, I did.”

-“So… May I ask you what you do not understand in that simple request? Because I would gladly explain it to you again.”

The threats were absolutely not hidden anymore now. Damn, that guy truly had threatening potential! In any other situation, Snatcher would have felt something akin to jealousy or admiration, depending on the person speaking, but in the present… He felt as much threatened as Vanessa, perhaps more, since she had powers to defend herself while he did not.

He forced his mind to focus on reality when he heard Vanessa apologize:

-“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

-“This is exactly what you promised me this morning and yet, you still managed to reveal my existence to him just now. What a shame.”

Snatcher’s eyebrows rose: did that guy just got Vanessa to apologize to him? What was he using, witchcraft? Both in his life and afterlife, Snatcher never managed to get a sincere “I’m sorry” from her! And that stranger got her to say those words just like this? Seriously, who was that guy?

-“Please do not make me regret helping you. We still have much to do for your dream to come true. Do not waste the chance I am offering you.”

-“But…!”

Snatcher stuck his ear to the door even more, extremely curious about what Vanessa was about to say after that kind of threat.

-“He- Alistel told me that this isn’t real. That this world will disappear in a few days…”

-“Oh please, are you believing him more than me?” answered the voice, outraged: “I offered you a way to go back in time, to erase what went wrong, and you would rather believe him? The man who cheated on you? Vanessa, dear, you really are hurting my feelings.” He paused before continuing: “If there is anyone to trust here, it is me. You should know that by now.”

Snatcher was instantly filled with absolute fury at the stranger’s affirmations.

“This guy…!” The spirit had never cheated on Vanessa! She was the one who went crazy and murdered an entire village! How dared he-

The ghost suddenly realized that if he stayed here any longer, he would be found out very soon. The conversation seemed almost over now, and this was his chance to leave before being caught. He did get all the information he needed to prove that Simeon was implied. Though… Did that mean that “Simeon” wasn’t really him? That someone was impersonating him? This was all Snatcher could think of.

He quickly stood up, as silently as possible, and walked away fast until he hid behind a corner. He waited for a bit and, after a few minutes, finally saw Simeon walking out of the room. Vanessa was coming right after him, looking at her own feet. This was really a weird sight to Snatcher. Normally, it would make him laugh, but now… It only meant that whoever was working with Vanessa was much, much more dangerous than her.

“Who are you…?” he wondered to himself, as he stared at the back of “Simeon”, who was walking towards the stairs, followed by Vanessa. Once the ghost was completely alone, he tried to relax his body, which had been tensed for quite a while.

Whoever was that guy… He and the kid would have to be really careful from now on. The sooner they left, the better.

Snatcher frowned and finally looked away from the staircase. Well… Now, he had a bath to take. Maybe it would help him to understand better what was happening in the dark.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

WHO THIS STRANGER MIGHT BE, HUM....

I hoped you liked this chapter ! Please tell me if you did, it really helps me a lot, you have no idea. I work a lot with motivation and I get writing blocks when I become hesitant about my stories. Even comments with a single emoji help, I assure you.

I hope everyone is doing well with everything that is happening around the world right now. Please stay safe, don't take risks. Good luck to everyone, I think we all need it with the sanitary crisis going on.

See you in the next chapter !

And if you want to support me in the meantime, you can watch an ad on Utip. Thank you!

Chapter 13 =>

[hecohansen31]

Angel

Jim Mason+Influencer! Reader:

(A/N): Hello lovelies!

I am very happy to have you back in this last episode of this miniseries, which I really hope you’ll like, alongside, again, if you have more ideas and want to send asks about this verses... I AM READY FOR IT, BRING IT ON BITCHES!

Also... I have said that this fic might be a bit self-indulgent and it is because, although I am not an influencer of any kind, I am very active on my social medias (mostly instagram, if you want to follow me or anything, and we are mutuals, just DM me) and this July I ended up hitting a very bad kind of exhaustion from that platform.

I honestly ended up feeling extremely shitty, alongside discovering many fake people who were around me, and for this reason I am happy that I managed to get here on tumblr (although there are some fake people on here, but like I don’t have to interact with them).

So, although the cyberbullying part of the story is only fictional, the exhaustion that took over reader, ended up being a reality for me, a bit ago, and although I am all better (better than before), I just wanted to remind you to take healthy pauses from social medias.

Also please don’t shame people who work on them, alongside use them as an outlet for anxiet and stress (like me).

I really hope you won’t judge me too badly, after this...

Also I’ll just remind you to show some love, if you like this, with hearts, reblogs (possibly saying something) and if you have anything to say about these, my DMs and asks are always open!

Much love!

SUMMARY: Jim Mason takes care of his social media exhausted girlfriend.

WORDS: 1,7 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Cyberbulling And Exhaustion from Social Medias (I WASN’T CYBERBULLIED, although I had my fair share of assholish comment, NOT HERE, but the cyberbullying was only fictional, whereas exhaustion is something I experienced back in July)

Jim knew of his girlfriend’s social media fame.

Although he wasn’t informed about the entire thing and how it worked, being more focused on staying in the moment and living it, he was proud of what she achieved with her photos and captions, even going as far as helping her shot a few.

He still remembered the way she smiled gently meanwhile he tried to take photos of her, meanwhile she pointed out each cheap tip she knew, starting with “shoot from a lower angle than my height, so that I might appear taller” and “make sure to take the right light”.

She might have seemed shallow to others, but whenever Jim cried his heart out in her arm, she only had the sweetest words for him, calming him down enough that they fell asleep calmly, next to each other in her simple pull-out.

She cuddled closer to him, whenever she understood he needed it and made sure to always be there, next to him, her entire attention focused on him.

He had never checked her profile, mostly because she had pleaded with him not to give it a look.

“It’s silly” she had mumbled, meanwhile she had tried to get his phone off his hands “… and embarrassing!”.

And Jim had respected her wishes, offering just his help with photos or ideas, but whenever they were together, the entire social media thought was off the rack between them, preferring a direct conversation, although sometimes she got in overload and at that time social medias were her outlet.

But sometimes they were also her damnation.

Jim had noticed the difference in his girlfriend’s mood, since the start of the week: quieter and definitely less happy, a mumble being her way to speak, if she spoke up, clearly not energetic in the slightest and definitely not focused.

His knowledge of drugs and their effects had made him think that she might have been under those, but slowly the unfocused glaze had moved from rage to sadness: one day she was moping on the beach and another she almost got into a rage-filled fight with whatever was not working.

Jimmy had tried his best to understand her, but she didn’t want to talk about it with him so he tried to stay close to her, but the bad week moved to two bad weeks and there Jim had thought about searching through her social, mostly due to the fact that she focused on them more, even neglecting herself and him a bit.

“I just need to write the last paragraph” she had mumbled, meanwhile she had refused to stop writing to sleep a bit or “I will eat after I edited this photo, I mean… I don’t need food”.

It all got Jim worried, more and more.

And then he had decided that he had only one chance to discover what was going on.

He had opened Instagram, her major social network, and then had moved to her profile, the public one (she had a private one, full of photos that made Jim’s heart jump: candid of them together, not professionally taken but… Jim loved them all the same) and had gone through it.

He had first seen that she hadn’t any stories going on, which was unusual since she did her best to try to at least show a bit of her everyday life each day.

“So, my followers don’t feel left out” she had mumbled and although Jim had thought it was a strange voyeuristic idea, he had just hugged her and called her “angel”.

“Angel” was also part of her username on Instagram, due mostly to her followers, which had started calling her “angel”, because of the intrinsic sweetness of her posts and the personality she showed on the social network.

The stories thing had been already strange, but also her follower count had diminished, nothing too bad, but he had heard his angel protest about that.

“I just can’t believe that these people unfollow me just because I don’t follow them back and you know what is worst… I have talked to them… I felt like… we were friends”.

But he had soon discovered the true reason behind his girlfriend’s sadness: the comments honestly made him angry.

The most recent ones were ruthless: “you are fat”, “kill yourself” “you are annoying”…

And they went on, although some were sweeter, clearly (Y/N)’s true fans.

He had honestly hoped it was a troll, nothing but a joke.

But those comments had been serious, since he hadn’t been able to recognize the familiar path of a troll, instead they were real people, under fake accounts or their real accounts sharing that hate.

He honestly hadn’t been able to stop himself from feeling furious now that he understood what was going on, and meanwhile he had signaled each negative comment, he had seen the stories light up, the first one of the day.

A photo with a writing on it: “guys I just wanted to let you know that I will be taking a pause, due to all the hate I have been getting, I don’t know when I will get back”.

Although the text has been intelligently written and concealed her emotion, he had clearly known she was crying meanwhile writing it.

He knew how much work she put into the social media, although it never was her job, she had started, long before meeting him, using it as a relief method from her own problem, so to be let down this way….

… it obviously hurt her.

After he had signaled enough accounts he had just tried to let the rage burn down, meanwhile he had created a plan to make his angel feel better: his first idea had been to go out, knowing that an expensive dinner and a few dances might get her distracted, but this would just push just the argument further.

So, he had just organized a home-made dinner (which meant him ordering take-out), bribing her to attend it with the promise of a lot of cuddles and a make-out session and most importantly to watch for the umpteenth times her favorite movie.

She clearly felt a bit better, when she finally walked in his house, being swept off her feet by an ecstatic Jim, who gently kissed her forehead, before he had put her down, leading her to the little kitchen of his apartment, the one his father had gotten him once he had gone out of rehab.

It was nice, although pretty small, but Jim loved it all more, and since he had met his angel it had all been better.

They had made so many memories, alongside she had helped perfecting it all.

“Ma’am, please sit down” he helped her to the dinner table, taking her jean jacket and her bag, coming back with an open bottle of wine, which he poured in their inadequate glasses, and with the first course, (Y/N)’s favorite course.

“Oh, you went all out” her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but she was indeed grateful, holding out her hand to grab his, which was kept tangled with his for the entire dinner

She talked about her day, chirping happily meanwhile she avoided carefully the social media argument and Jim didn’t pressure her, just watching her eat, in peaceful silence and only when they moved to wash the dishes he grumbled lowly:

-… sweetie, I checked your page on Instagram- he felt her grow stiff next to him -… I know that it embarrasses you, but I thought that you had been so gloomy these past weeks and I thought that your social media might have been bothering you, extremely… so I had to do something…-.

-Oh Jimmy! – she was avoiding his eyes, clearly ashamed -… I am so sorry you had to see all that… it…-.

-You are getting hate thrown your way for nothing, (Y/N)- he wanted to make sure she knew it wasn’t her fault In the slightest -…I can’t honestly fathom people doing this to you, whereas you have been nothing but an angel with them-.

-I am not sure… I mean…- a sad smile was on her face -… I am pretty sure that many people will call me a bitch with no problem…-.

-… well I am gonna fight them all, babe- he brought her closer and smacked a sound kiss on her head -… you don’t deserve this hate, believe me, I spent two hours trying to ban each asshole-.

-That is incredibly sweet, Jimmy Boy- she giggled, but a few tears shone on his eyes -… but I don’t think that it will stop the hate from spreading; that’s why I decided to take a holiday-.

Jim saw that an honest smile shone on her face and moved the rag onto its hook to hug her better, bearhugging her and gently caressing her back, gently, and shushing her cries.

-Angel of mine, I am so so sorry I was not able to know more about this- he mumbled, feeling a low protest -… I honestly thought it wasn’t that bad-.

-I didn’t even talk about it with you- she justified softly, getting a bit of distance between them to be able to watch him in the eyes -… I wanted to handle on my own, because, at first, I thought it wasn’t anything worrying, and then… I just felt like social media were a thing I needed to solve alone, my thing-.

He knew this came from all the prejudices linked with her passion for social medias: he had heard about some of her friends annoying her saying not only she was asocial, but also self-absorbed.

She hadn’t been very open about her life on them with him, also because of this, thinking that he would be making fun of her, exactly like her “friends”.

-I know that you take pride into your profile, but… you can lean onto me, I am here for you- he promised her looking at her in the eyes with extreme seriousness, before hugging her close, keeping his lips on her forehead, a comforting gesture -… I am still extremely proud of you for recognizing that you were having troubles and deciding to distance yourself from that… you are one smart angel-.

She giggled at the nickname, before freeing herself from his hug, although she still felt extremely bad, a smile shone on her face.

-Now you better get in your comfortable pajama, because this smart angel wants to watch for the umpteenth time (Y/F/F), with a lot of cuddles- and she turned around, getting a slight slap on her ass from Jim.

-… don’t forget the make-out session! -.

---

Hello lovelies!

Thank you for coming this far, in my self-indulgent mumbling and thank you for sticking me all through this series, I really hope you enjoyed it, and in case some of you want to read the previous chapters, you might find them here! (Duncan) (Michael)

@so-langdon @1-800-bitchcraft @emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @rocketgirl2410 @ladynuwanda @w0nder-marie @bitchchatter @eternalnostalgia @chirpdesu @dreamxcollide @head-full-of-thougts @lonely-cloud @im-the-music-whore @orendamill @ayeayecaptaingally @loveofmonstersandroses @kleineshaschen @dramapenguinthe3rd @drama-penguins @vampirefairyestelle @ @hplotrfan @a-exmrie @meandmystrangehabits @lovelylangdonx  @britishmoonchild @michael-langdon-appreciation (I keep tagging you and please let me know if it is fine, but I know that you liked the previous chapter!) @mega-combusken @frenchbread4ever  @confettucini @what-the-hecku @langdonsplaytoy @saviorinsilk @cherrysoda-com@loveableasshole @sona-blues  @xoxocrystal17 @bish-ima-clown  @idespac  @annielovebug22 @literary-monster @g4ost  @rubyeru @breakingsupernaturlbad101 @dyns33 @hadeslittlewhore @ lsutgurxb @kelncurls @lathraios @rosegoldrichie @ohlookheather @ softyash @honeylavender-bombshell @ swinginfestivalhoagieflap @lotsofhunny @ ashleyallen-queen-carter @ uniquepandaeagleparty @ elviradamien23

[chiibinomonodamon]

Let’s Clear Up Some Misunderstandings about ZackRay, SHALL WE?

Yes, I think we shall......due to all this idiotic discourse going on here.

*Note: I cannot speak for ALL ZackRays but I do believe from my interaction with many of them, they have similar feels. What I’m posting here however? This is coming from my own personal feelings.

1. “Shipping ZackRay means you support pedophilia.”

A: F*CKING NOPE....first of all, let’s get into what “shipping ZackRay” means, for me, okay....

Yes, I ship ZackRay. I referred to it as a Platonic Until Legal Love”. Which seemed to give people the misconception that “it’s waiting for a child to turn 18 so they can consent to sex”.

THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT.

Perhaps that was a very poor choice of words. Ugh. So let me explain in more detail:

I feel that Zack’s feelings for Rachael will remain platonic until she grows older and then it is possible for romantic feelings to be slowly realized over time.

Because let’s get one thing straight; I don’t think we can deny:

Issac Foster is not able to recognize what love actually is, even by the end of the series. Nobody has taught him this. He’s not emotionally mature enough to understand it. Yes, I think he feels it towards Ray subconsciously. He feels something. He knows he cares for her in a “I would be glad if you did not die/ I don’t think I can live without you” kind of way. But he hasn’t thought of it outside of that. Therefore, if he is not aware of a romantic attachment, he can’t really act on it, which cancels out (God forbid) any type of sexual feelings he would have towards her. Which cancels out “waiting until she’s legal”. Which I agree, is messed up. Ick. Btw I hate Usagi Drop’s ending. A lot.

So if you’re under the impression that I’m expecting Zack and Ray to suddenly start making out right after the last scene, uh NOPE, I’m not. What I ship...(what a lot of people ship) are those possibilities far....FAR....into the future where Zack eventually understands that Ray is the only person he wants to be with....for the rest of his life. Period. And what exactly is wrong with two consenting adults agreeing to be with each other? That’s right.

NO-THING.

It’s not wrong just because he knew her when she was a young teenager. He was not looking at her in that way. She was simply important to him as a person. And if she were to try to kiss him or something while she was young, his response would likely be “WTF ARE U DOIN”. An appropriate one, yes. XD

I was ALSO referring to my own feelings when talking about PULL. In other words, I don’t really approve of sexual ZackRay content unless she is portrayed as an adult. Mmkay....moving on.

2. “ZackRay shippers look for porn of the ship while Ray is still a child”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. THAT IS GROSS. NO THANKS, I REJECT.

3. “ZackRay shippers think adults being with kids IRL is okay.”

..........whatisthisIdon’teven.

Hey, is Zack your favorite character? Yeah? THEN YOU MUST THINK SERIAL KILLERS IRL ARE REALLY COOL!!! YOU WANT TO BE ONE, RIGHT? KILLING PEOPLE IS GONNA BE YOUR HOBBY TOO, RIGHT?

..........uh......see how idiotic that sounds? Don’t you just love being accused of that shit? Yeah, it’s really fun, isn’t it?

4. “ZackRay shippers are horrible, spiteful people who attack antis for disliking their ship”

Okay, there is a difference between “disliking a ship” and “opening attacking strangers online”. You don’t like our ship? Fine, I can respect that. Let us go our separate ways and not speak of this matter again.

DON’T.

GO.

LOOKING.

FOR.

FIGHTS.

Don’t call people out on social media posts. Don’t reblog their posts and publicly ridicule them. Don’t reblog their art and insult it. Don’t mention their names, don’t bully them, don’t TRY TO GET OTHERS TO BULLY THEM. This is sick. This is just wrong. I have recently found out that kids under 18 do in fact ship ZackRay. Which means when you attack, stalk, and harass them on tumblr, YOU COULD BE EMOTIONALLY HURTING A CHILD. Ironic for all the antis going “PROTECT TEH CHILDREEEEENZ!” Yes, protect them from your toxic attitude, how about?

5. “ZackRay shippers create content that is harmful because pedos can use it to groom children.”

And the antis seem to be under the delusion that they are SUCH special snowflakes because they were groomed this way; no guess what, ZackRays are also humans (despite what you may think) and have fallen victim to the same shit. Also, news flash, anything can be used as a grooming tool. YES, ANYTHING. And there are WAAAAAAAAAAAAAY more harmful ships out there (THAT ARE CANON) than ZackRay. I’ve been an anime fan for a long ass time. You think I don’t know about all the lolicon kiddie porn? You think I don’t know about Boku No Pico? THAT’S the shit you should be worried about kids and pedos finding. Not that I think fiction is really going to increase child rape crimes. If someone is intent on harming a child, they will. Reading or seeing fanart online isn’t going to influence that. They have a psychological disorder, unnatural addiction, and a lack of morals. These issues are rooted far deeper than just seeing stuff online. Getting rid of that stuff will change literally nothing. The only way a pedophile can change is to get professional help. And schmucks ranting online about how fans shipping is bad is NOT professional help. It’s certainly a professional waste of time.

6. “If shipping ZackRay is a groomed victim’s way of coping with that trauma, that’s unhealthy.”

STOP.

Are you a psychiatrist? Are you an expert in dealing with rape victims? Have you examined this individual you are criticizing?

No?

Then f*ck off. Every person is different. Every story is different. This is a stranger on the internet; who the f*ck are YOU to tell them “that coping method is unhealthy”? You don’t know their life story. You don’t know what works for them. Do you think everyone with anxiety copes with it the exact same way? Depression? Eating disorders? I happen to have an anxiety disorder, myself. Recently a friend of mine informed me that she was also diagnosed with one. I told her my symptoms and I told her what I did when I got an attack.

Guess what?

What she experiences and what I experience are as different as f*cking night and day. I was trying to be a helpful friend but it turns out I was not able to help her at all. I thought I could because I thought I was experienced. But I’m not. It was a real eye-opener.

So don’t generalize people that way. You know nothing about what they went through. Get off your f*cking high horse.

Conclusion: These six misconceptions were the most problematic ones I can think of. Now some Q and A:

Do you draw NSFW ZackRay?

No.

Will you reblog it?

No.

Do you write NSFW fanfics?

No. I’m really not into sexual stuff at all and would be terrible at writing it.

Do you support people who do?

People have the right to draw and write whatever tf they want. Censorship is bad. Just don’t harm anyone IRL. Please.

Where do you draw the line at romantic ZackRay content YOU draw, write, or reblog?

Cuddling, chaste kissing, hand-holding; absolutely nothing worse than what you’d see in a Disney movie. Romance-wise. I got nothing against Zack swearing like a sailor the way he always does. xD

Do you ship ZackRay because of their ages?

*bangs head on wall*

No, I ship them because of who they are as individuals and how they act when they are together.....you know, like a normal person.

Thanks for reading my long-ass rants.

Feel free to PM me, ask more questions, send me hate mail, whatever. I’ll probably just print out your hate mail and use it as toilet paper though...if I didn’t already block your ass. :’D

[sociumangelum]

I love reading about your experiences with your guardian angel ! I was just reading your reply to the question about having a strong connection with your angel and was wondering if you could recommend things one could do to strengthen the bond.I feel that mine does so much for me & I really wish I could do more to show my love and appreciation towards them.. but as a human I feel like my options are really limited 3

First of all, I want you to know that it’s okay to feel this way, I certainly have in the past. For a long time I wondered how I could ever show enough appreciation for my guardian for everything he has done and continues to do for me. However, I have many suggestions to help you bond with your guardian angel some more:

The first one is pretty simple: talk to them. I have posted about my method of invocation that works for me in the past, but I will put it in a read more here as well. Now, this can be difficult to practice in a busy lifestyle (I know, trust me) but you would be amazed at how effective this is. Just try twice a day; and you don’t need to try for a deep connection every time you call upon them. Say good morning to them, say goodnight to them. Make moments in your day where you reach out and just speak to them.

If you can, call even more! A few years ago, I devoted a week to my angel and pledged to call upon him seven times a day (I had the time, and how I wish I had that kind of spare time again!). I had no expectation of reward, I simply wanted to spend more time with him; make more time for him, and connect with him. 

Do things with them! Whatever you can do with another human, you can do with your guardian angel in some variation. Call upon them and say you want to spend more time with them; ask them if there’s anything in particular they’d like to do. I read books to and watch films with mine, and I also ask for his recommendations (and as a result I’ve seen films I’d have never otherwise watched!). Perhaps it sounds silly, and you’ll have to feel comfortable with going places by yourself, but you can always share something as simple as a trip to a cafe. Go get a coffee, sit with it, relax, call upon them, just talk to them and share that moment with them. Travel somewhere new with them. Go for a walk with them. Set a goal for yourself and ask your angel to be involved with it; grow a plant together, learn to speak another language and practice with them, read new recipes and call your angel to be involved when you want to get something cooking. Laugh together. Share new experiences together. Grow together. 

Keep them involved with your thoughts and your plans. I learned that my guardian wanted me to speak my mind even though he already knew what was on it. Well, imagine your friend posted on social media about something good that had happened to them that day; we would know the detail and be happy for them, but would be even happier if they took the time to reach out and tell us more, right? This is important to guardian angels, too (and it concerns both negative and positive thoughts - your angel isn’t going to suddenly hate you if you’re angry or sad).

Know that it’s okay to ask for help. Assistance is one of many ways that the guardian angel is naturally able to communicate love, so don’t try to stifle it! If you feel you are taking advantage of them, make time to call upon them and ask for nothing. Tell them you love them and appreciate them.

Make a space for them where you can show your appreciation! This could be in the form of a blog (I have a private blog for my angel where I write poetry, reblog images that remind me of him, quotes, etc. It makes me feel very peaceful looking at it and I know it has been created specifically for him) or something physical like a scrapbook or a series of letters. Create something, and make sure to remember to show / tell your angel what you made for them! 

Something else which can help strengthen your bond is wearing jewellery of some kind. I wear a ring for mine. It’s something physical which is always on you and will remind you of them, and you may feel more connected by combining your thoughts of them with whatever you choose to wear. If you feel anxious during the day for whatever reason, you could hold onto it and remind yourself that your angel is there for you.

Out of all these things, I can’t recommend just talking with them enough. I have a method of invocation that I have been using since the very first day, and I will describe it here (copy pasted from an ask I got years ago). It has allowed me to connect with him and feel his presence on many occasions. Additionally, it is the feeling of his presence that has allowed me to sense when he has come to check on me even without my calling him; I will be busy doing something else and will suddenly feel him around me, which is wonderful!

Invocation Method

I would say that the simplest way of connecting with him/her is invocation (or, perhaps more correctly, “evocation” - I’ve always used the former term so I’ll stick with it for now!). It’s very simple, very powerful, and there are many ways it can be done. All you really need is some quiet time. I started formally invoking around seven years ago and still practice it today. Personally, I prefer not to use anything, but I’ve read that others like to light candles/burn incense/do whatever to help “set the scene”. Just go with whatever feels right! The only thing I would advise is shutting off internal noise as much as possible - this means invoking in the dark, and in silence (making sure you’re not going to be disturbed is also important).

This is the method I suggest, the method that I was taught, but of course you can adapt it to suit your own needs:

In your chosen space, just sit and relax for a bit. Close your eyes, try and quieten your mind. Spend a few minutes this way. You may find your thoughts drifting after some time - try and focus.

Here comes the invocation! A lot of people suggest visualising a white light (or something similar) around you before you start. In reality, I’m not convinced that this has any impact - but that’s only my opinion, so visualise it if you like. When you feel that you’re ready, inhale deeply and simultaneously, in your mind, say “guardian angel, come to me”. Then slowly exhale and say “with love and will, so may it be”. Doing this once is probably enough - but to start with, try repeating the invocation three times.

Now wait for your angel to respond! Sit silently and be aware of yourself as well as your immediate surroundings. It’s important not to push or force anything, let your guardian angel come forward to you. It might happen straight away, it might happen after a while (I can’t tell you what exactly will happen. From what I’ve seen, it differs from person to person).

When the communication is over, and you’ll know when it is, thank your angel and go on with your day!

Just some things to keep in mind: the experience need not be (and probably won’t be) earth-shattering, though it might be! The first time I did this, I had no real idea of what I was doing or what to expect. In truth, I wasn’t certain anything would happen. When my guardian angel actually responded to me, I’ll admit, I was rather frightened. It’s hard to describe the way he manifested. It was like an intense pressure inside my head, it was a sensation I had never felt before. At the time I described it as “dizzy spells” but they weren’t unpleasant; quite the opposite (perhaps the only thing I can compare it to is being in a train as it goes through a tunnel, or in a plane as it starts to descend).

If nothing happens during the invocation - don’t worry! If you’re not really getting any feedback, you can ask your guardian angel for another sign, or try again the following day/night. Remember not to force it, trust that your guardian angel is there. I’ve noticed that something that’s often overlooked is that angels are their own person; that is, they have their own name, personality, interests, and preferred method(s) of communication (as well as thoughts/feelings, etc.). Some methods might work really well, others might not, and some might get easier with time.

Like any human relationship, really getting to know your guardian angel takes time and energy. What I’ve described here is a simple handshake and it only scratches the surface of how you can connect :).

[hufflepuffwannabe]

Interview with @studyblr

@studyblr was kind enough to give me some of her time to share about her experiences here in the studyblr community. Rachel radiates kindness and quiet wisdom, and this place just wouldn’t be the same without her, right? I really wanted to get to know her better and figured the rest of the world ought to, too.

me: Well, I think everyone is dying to know how you got your URL. What's the story behind it? Rachel: So, I am a very night-active person, thus being on tumblr at about 2 am on a school night (setting a great example, I know). It was around December 2016, this blog being just 4 months old and still called @mujischolar. While I was absent-mindendly scrolling through tumblr I noticed one of the people I was following announced they'd be going on a hiatus. But because their URL was so popular, they wanted to give it away. So I glanced at their URL - studyblr.tumblr.com. As it was on a first-come-first-serve basis I immediately texted her, she was so so nice and after a short talk (we were mutuals) she agreed to give me her URL. I have treasured it ever since. And also, contrary to the myths, have never killed anyone for it....... ever.... ;) me: Hahaha, everyone will be relieved to know no one was murdered. Do you know the origins of the studyblr community? Rachel: Sadly, I don't, discovered the community around 2014/2015, lurking for a couple of years. Would love to know more about it. Maybe we could even set up an anniversary to celebrate the community, hehe me: When did you start becoming really active and what kinds of posts did you post? Rachel: I started becoming really active when I made this blog in August 2016. Fairly quickly I found out that my strength in this community and the main contribution would probably be my text posts! I adore writing them and seeing all of the positive reactions to them. Also, it's something that wasn't *that* popular back then, as studyblr was (and still is) mostly dominated by studyspo pictures. Occasionally I still post some pictures of my own, but my text posts are still most important to me, also the most popular kind of posts on my blog as well! me: Tell me more about your text posts. Do you have a process for writing them? What inspires you? Rachel: Sometimes they're flashs of inspiration like lightning, sometimes little rain drops that slowly unite into a bigger one. Most of my inspiration actually comes from things I struggle with myself, as a sort of self-reminder. What I also really enjoy are concept posts or "types of...." posts, as both help me to, in a way, learn more about myself as well in the process of writing them! Some of my other most popular posts are simple encouragments though, just because I think everyone needs them once in a while. Some time after I started I began having a pretty clear idea how I wanted my blog to *feel* like, the atmosphere I was trying to convey, and a huge part of that is this a cozy feeling of being accepted the way you are but still pushed to challenge yourself and grow as an individual.

me: How has the community grown and changed since you joined? Related: when did your popularity really take off, and do you think that that's helped shaped the community? Rachel: The community has definitely grown a lot and changed as well since I joined. A lot of my followers are not part of the studyblr community, for some this blog has been their first stepping stone into our little world. I've seen trends come and go, from special kinds of pens or ways of taking notes (remember when the Cornell note taking method was all everybody talked about?) etc. My blog has grown ever since I got this URL, and in the span of a year I've gained around 110.000 new followers. What I def noticed was that, to my delight, others started posting similair text posts as well, and they became much more of a part of studyblr than they were before! That made me extremely happy, also because I love reading them just as much as I love creating them. me: There are a number of members of this community who think that there is too much of an emphasis on studying to your breaking point and/or aesthetics coupled with expensive stationery. Basically, they find all of this troublesome and unrealistic. What message would you give to them? Rachel: Romanticization of studying until you are basically destroying yourself is unfortunately very real in the studyblr community, and I have to admit that when I was just starting out here I caught myself thinking in these patterns as well. Much like the romanticization of mental illness or any body-damaging substances it can be incredibly harmful to think that way, and I am very glad that the general awareness for this issue is rising. Somehow, there is this idea that you are not really productive until you are stressed 24/7 and pulling one all-nighter after another. And this is simply not true. Thankfully, there are a lot of posts emerging now critically adressing this problem and debunking it as well. But there def has been a positive development, at least from my perspective, with the enhanced importance of self-care too.       Regarding the studyblr aesthetic, the notes etc: There have been a lot of people over the years in my ask-box simply not realising why one would put so much effort into their notes or their bullet journal, claiming it's unproductive and a waste of time and whatnot. But, clearly, to the people who are passionate about it, it is a hobby they are devoted to and that they enjoy.      Sure, there is always a limit -- rewriting your notes 5 times just because of a little mistake, for example. But as long as one is self-aware about the need for a balance between "I want this to look pretty" and "I need to get stuff done", I don't see a problem with it at all. As with most things, balance is key.      The "expensive stationery" part is an issue that needs to be adressed seperately, I believe. One of studyblr's main flaws is its elitism. Most posts that get reblogged are filled with Muji and Mildliners and Macbooks, with expensive scented candles etc. That's something we as a community have to deal with as well - a great way is spreading awareness esp. to baby studyblrs starting out that YOU DO NOT NEED EXPENSIVE STATIONERY TO BE A STUDYBLR, which is so so important. Another great way though is tracking a tag - mine is #lookstudyblr - where all studyblrs (and blogs and general) can post their posts to for you to see and reblog them. In that way, little blogs or blogs without many followers or with non-conventional set-ups can be supported as well me: Do you think you'll continue with studyblr into university? Rachel: I definitely will! Not too sure what I want to pursue in university, or even in what country I want to study, so this blog is a very nice constant to have haha me: Softball question: What are your favorite study snacks and drinks? Rachel: My favorite study snacks have to be strawberries or blueberries, my favorite study drink has to be (typical studyblr answer i am so sorry) either the berry drink at starbucks or the cinnamon latte thing. i forgot their names. can't even #typicalstudyblr properly, hahaha me: Harder (?) question: What motivates you most of all? Rachel: For a long time, what motivated me most was that I wanted to get accepted to Oxford University. A lot of what I did, even this blog, was part of my efforts to get in there. When I first heard back and was accepted to interview, I was naturally elated. But when I was there - I had pictured it to be so much more than it was. I had completely focused on that and only that, and seeing, when I got there, that that place might really not be for me was devastating. I didn't want to accept it at first, but when I got my rejection, I sort of knew that they just did me a huge favor. Maybe I'll re-apply next year, maybe not, but just the process of realising that there is so much more out there for me has changed me so much. After that, my main motivation changed extremely. Some would argue it's much more vague now, but it gives me the amount of freedom I need: I sincerely want to make a positive impact. Through this blog, through my studies, through my job. I won't lie and say finding something else to motivate you after having something so definite for so long wasn't hard, but I believe this "search" I was going through and in a way still am was such a big part of me, growing as a person. And I am so so glad that my blog is growing and changing with me. me: What would you like to say to baby studyblrs that you don't think has been said before or enough? Rachel: To baby studyblrs I would like to say that you should learn to put yourself first. I believe a lot of people who join the studyblr community are too eager to prioritise their goals, schoolwork or other people before themselves. (Of course it doesn't apply to everybody here, just to a majority, especially when you look at people who are just starting out). Learning to put yourself first is one of the best decisions you can make, and also one of the hardest. Put yourself first, and don't let others define you. Don't let the fact that you don't have expensive stationery define you, or that you dislike the typical studyblr aesthetics, or that bad grade, or that one person's opinion. I'm not saying to ignore every advice anyone ever gives to you, but be aware of yourself and your situation. There's no use in lying to ourselves, it won't make anything better anway, sadly. me: Last question: how has studyblr shaped your life? Rachel: Even if I tried, I don't think I could sum up the ways in which studyblr has truly shaped me, as it is such a big part of my life now. It helped immensly with self-awareness, self-confidence and self-care, as well as connected me to so many wonderful people, I'll always be so grateful for all of this.

[captaintilly]

Hi there! I’m Kat & CaptainTilly is my muse!

Icon art by @leifor … used and reposted with permission.

I started roleplaying Tilly on tumblr as soon as her character was introduced in the show & even though I’ve interacted with lots of you in lots of ways, I thought it was a good idea to take a moment and kinda talk about my roleplay.

About Me

I’m 21+ and I will interact with blogs of all ages.

I’m flexible and adaptable to different formatting/punctuation/writing styles.

This is a sideblog. My main blog is @nightgnome and I’m also the blogger behind @fuckyeahsylviatilly

I may not follow you, but I definitely want to write with you. I’m very friendly and easy to talk to. Just send me a message!

About my Tilly

I’ll interact with multimuse, canon divergent, OC and non-roleplaying blogs.

I try to run this blog from the mindset of “if Tilly had a tumblr, what would it look like?”… like a form of method acting. All posts are made in-character unless tagged “Kat speaks” or “ooc” or “mun speaks.” That includes aesthetic posts and general interest posts. When she reblogs pics/gifs from the show I like to think of it as her memories or photo album.

I don’t tag for swearing. Expect lots of it.

If you need anything tagged for triggers, just let me know.

If a thread is tagged #closed it is a private conversation between the characters involved. That means: don’t crash the thread + your character would not be aware of the content that happens in it unless your character is included.

I love asks. Send them whenever!

Shipping with Tilly

I am playing Tilly as panromantic. She loves everyone in their own unique way, but she is slow to develop romantic entanglements.

As a fan of the show, I ship everyone with everyone. I love all the ships. I have so many, it’s more like a fleet.

On this blog, I am non-exclusive with my shipping. However, it’s important to me that I build chemistry slowly and over time and that any ships arise naturally out of our characters’ interactions.

In general, I keep this blog SFW but if any NSFW content comes up, I will tag it. That being said, I like my smut as much as the next fangirl, and if we write well together for awhile I may be open to exploring that with you.

What else?

I really just loooove to write so please hit me up. I’m open to interacting with anyone. Just be nice and bring your creativity and your passion!

Xoxo

Tilly & Kat

[false-majesty]

So I’ve seen this one certain meme floating around on my dash, and I thought I might respond to it in one big post and tag all the people who reblogged it (and a few who didn’t).

And so, without further adieu, here’s Aku’s reactions to the deaths of a few people he knows...

Cut for length, graphic violence, and disturbing content. I listened to x x and x while writing this. ;)

Ashi | @tigersteeth

He’d think he could have been there sooner and how he could have protected her; about how he knew Ashi hated him at the start but then eventually came to love him back. And most of all he would think about how she had been right to be wary of him; first he had bitten her, and then he had let her get killed.

And of course, with these thoughts he’d soon be filled with cold fury and determination to set things right. And naturally, with his logic, what else should that entail but a killing spree.

He’d kill the murderer’s loved ones methodically and slowly, and perhaps might even go so far as to present little ‘keepsakes’ of the loved ones—a body part or piece of jewelry, perhaps—for each one that he killed; pushing the murderer ever closer to the brink of insanity just to show them how it felt to lose someone important in their life. And depending on how successful he is at getting them to lose their mind, he might or might not kill them last, making sure they get to see the look in his eyes when he does it...

But when things have finally been paid for in blood, Aku would likely be very cold and professional for a while afterward--years even.

He would be more foul tempered, impatient, callous, and withdrawn; deliberately not letting anyone see how his daughter’s death has affected him. He’d pour his anger into conquering planets and broadening his empire, crushing innocents beneath his heel and curbing revolutions before they even have a chance to start.

To outsiders, this would appear to be something of a reawakening—like watching a dormant monster rise from its own ashes or perhaps a very long slumber only to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world that had grown fat and sloven with peace.

But when he’s alone, when the nights are cold and long, Aku would probably catch himself thinking about her more often than he’d care to admit.

There would be a statue in her likeness erected alongside his own in the gardens of his citadel and in a few of his major cities.

Rick | @therealricksanchezpleasestandup

If Rick were to die at this particular moment in their canon relationship, when he and Aku are only just now starting to get close to one another:

He would be numb for all of a few seconds as he knelt beside the body and tried to grasp at the fact that Rick was really dead. He’d probably nudge him, trying to make him get up, would check all his vitals, and would yell at him. Anything to get him to wake up.

But when all that fails, he would stand slowly, agonizingly, and turn to face the murderer—madness and revenge burning hot and unmistakable in his eyes as he rounded upon them and would then utterly obliterate them in a tornado of fury—painting their gore on the walls, on the ceiling, and on himself, yet not stopping even when they were obviously dead.

After the fact, he would make suitable arrangements for Rick’s funeral in Aku’s dimension or would probably find some way to contact C-137 Earth to tell his family the news that Rick was dead. Might even be so considerate as to ask about Rick’s friends and deliver the news to them if he could.

But after that, Aku would likely back out of the proceedings; choosing instead to isolate himself—either in his quarters or some other scenic location where he might be able to think—so he could come to better terms with what had happened.

He would alternate between bouts of anger and grief in equal intensity for some time afterward; just thinking about how he not-so-secretly liked him—(could probably have come to love him, if they had been given more time together)—and how Rick was just starting to show signs that he was equally interested. Would probably think about their history as friends (and how Rick was the only real friend he’d probably ever had in his life) and all the time they had spent with one another...

...Would think about saving Rick from himself that one night he had found him on the brink of alcohol poisoning. Would think about sitting beside Rick on the couch watching tv and laughing. Would think about their first adventure when he had saved Rick from the falling rubble of a foreign empire they had worked to destroy...

And at that point he’d likely start to blame himself for Rick’s death and would start to think that his (Aku’s) being hated by the universe had somehow doomed his best friend to a premature death because of mere association. He’d reflect on the fact that bad things always seem to befall those who would get close to him. Especially those that he cares about.

Probably thinks to himself that he might have loved him after all.

He’d be numb and professional for a few years afterward. Not letting himself talk to anyone outside of a professional setting and definitely not letting himself EVER become fond of anyone else the way he had with Rick. He would probably even push away his own daughter for the most part, as he wouldn’t want her to see him so weak and he definitely doesn’t want her to befall the same fate as Rick. Hell, he might even push away Morty and Beth and Summer too if they should try and speak to him about all that happened.

After he’s had some time to come to terms with his grief, he’s probably only a shell of his former self. All kindness and light that knowing Rick had nurtured in him would be dulled so much it’s pretty much nonexistent. At which point he would resume his role as a tyrannical overlord with renewed fervor—conquering planets that had previously given him a hard time simply out of sheer blind frustration.

And why not? He has no other purpose. Nothing else to distract him from the cold reality of what happened.

Visitors to his citadel would ask around about the statue of the scientist erected in the courtyard alongside Aku’s own, and legends would begin to circulate that long ago the tyrant had once felt kindness and love for another...

If Rick were to die during our Fourth Wall Verse (a skype exclusive event, in which Rick and Aku react to the events of canon and love on each other behind the scenes—or are married already):

( We’ve already talked about what would happen, but I’ll pretty much recap a modified version of our conversation since the others don’t know. )

He would go on a blitzkrieg of worlds in his grief, probably annihilating over half of his quadrant before the other gods finally got tired of his senseless violence and would lock him away in the Godly equivalent of a padded room.

After a while of suffering with his memories of Rick, Aku would probably try to beg death from the other gods if only so he could see Rick again and tell him he loved him at least one last time. But the other gods would likely see a better punishment in keeping him alive, to let him think about what he’s done and to let him experience loss like the people who had lost their loved ones through Aku’s actions. However, this plan would backfire because Aku would probably sleep himself into oblivion rather than stay awake and deal with the presence and torment of the other Gods-- as he sees no other reason to be awake, yet alone alive.

At which point he’d have vivid nightmares of Rick’s death and how he hadn’t been there in time to save him; he would dream of Ashi and how she would die a mortal’s death without Aku there to augment her lifespan using his magic; and finally, he might even dream of the sword coming back from wherever it had been hidden and finishing its purpose killing him off.

But instead of shying away from this last dream, he would welcome it; because death would be preferable to living without Rick.

Other than that, he’d probably sleep himself until the end of time.

And why not? He doesn’t have a reason to be awake anymore.

Azura | @curioosity

At the news of her death he’d probably get really quiet, and would ask anyone in the room to leave. At which point he would take out that puppet that Azura gave him and he’d stare at it long and hard, trying to figure out what this strange feeling is that’s trying to creep into his mood (hint, it’s sadness) but he’d probably furrow his brow and incinerate the puppet then and there so he wouldn’t think about her anymore as he recognized the feeling as being something mortal and therefore malignant to his very nature.

He would then dismiss her and her memory from his mind—lest he should become fond of her in her absence--and life would continue as usual as if nothing had changed.

And for Aku? It’s true. Nothing changed at all.

Ryou | @sonxflight

He knows he should be relieved when he finally hears word of his prince’s death, for this not only explains the piercing pain he felt shooting through his chest out of the blue some hours ago-- Ryou’s presence and blood magic leaving him-- but this also means that he can safely go about destroying worlds and empires as he had been meaning to for centuries.

But instead all he feels is numb. He finds himself thinking that he misses him despite their many differences, and that Ryou was his only friend. The only one who understood what it was like to live for so long and watch the world turn around you while you remained unaffected.

Thus, long after the funeral is over and everyone else has moved on, the demon would find himself kneeling at the gravesite just staring at his beloved’s tombstone. Probably lays a hand on it and finally his restraint just snaps and he bows his head and weeps because yes he did love him in life, that although Ryou may have held him to mortal limitations by summoning him out of the darkness the way he had, but he was still his husband-- had still shown him love and compassion when no one else would...

And although he can safely allow Ryou’s empire to spiral into ruin, he keeps it safe anyway. In loving memory of his husband.

Jack | @alwaysfindaway

Before they come to have feelings for one another (ie. their relationship in canon):

Aku would make an example out of the samurai’s death. Posting video and picture evidence of it across all his social media regardless of what women or children might see it as he plastered graphic images of it on billboards and advertisements worldwide; leaving no doubt that this world is once more doomed to the jaws of the beast.

He’d be filled with a curious sense of peace, knowing he doesn’t have anything to worry about anymore as he (undoubtedly) would have hid the sword away in the core of some planet (or sun) whose location was known only to him.

Slowly, rebellion leaders would be picked off and assassinated without the samurai there to defend them, and uprisings would gradually trickle to a standstill while the demon’s scourge slowly siezed the cosmos in terror.

Every year on the anniversary of the samurai’s death--a national holiday--the world grieves for their fallen hero less and less as the years go by, until eventually his memory is regarded akin to a fairy tale.

And still the demon lives on, growing lazy and arrogant and careless as the world withers beneath his claws...

After they come to have feelings for one another:

For a while all he feels in confusion.

On the one hand, he knows he should be happy the samurai is dead, for this had been his goal for so long that to feel otherwise is simply alien. But on the other, he had come to have some marginal fondness for him while they had traveled together. Indeed, he had found his company pleasant and had found his presence soothing-- towards the later half of their time together, anyway.

He’d find himself recalling the nights they had slept beneath the stars, when Jack had not yet known his identity, and how it had felt to hold him as he had never held anyone before or would ever after...

But he’d push these thoughts aside and force himself through the motions of being cruel and victorious in the light of his death, and few would be the wiser for his somehow strained behavior.

After enough time passes, he would slowly come to push his memory aside-- in the hopes that he never fondly recalls the samurai again...

[l0nd0ninnit]

Bonkai Reunion 8x14 (part 2)

Ok, I know you’ve been waiting for an analysis of this scene and I am ready to deliver. I want you all to know that it is almost impossible to convey in words the level of excitement I feel when I write about this scene but just know that with each word I type, there is a smile on my face that can’t be removed. Like this reunion scene is not even close to what I had imagined or would have wanted their last scene to be, but DAMN...Kat and Chris’ acting/chemistry made what could have been a mediocre scene, a scene full of depth and sexual tension. I mean how many actors can make you feel the intangible connection and sexual tension between their characters when they are on opposite sides of a bar?!! HOW MANY?!! I would be lying if I said I only watched this scene multiple times to analyse because the truth is, I can’t get enough of it. So without further ado

Part 2 of the analysis, The Game:

Keep in mind that when Kai sees Bonnie, he is absolutely unaware that she has put him in another prison world for about a third of their conversation. So imagine his perception of the situation when she saunters in the bar and teases  him with cheeky responses which is a drastic change from how she reacted a day ago to his return. A day ago, she wanted nothing to do with him. Now she is actually talking to him in the flesh. And what is more, she has chained him to a chair in a bar (side eye *smirk* smirk*) and they are alone! He is in the spotlight. She is in the shadows and as she speaks, she slowly walks towards him...there is nothing about this scenario that doesn’t seem sexual. It is like electricity. It is intense and there is this constant feeling of anticipation. And not only that, but her behaviour is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on.

It has been years yet she is more confident than ever! She is relaxed and very comfortable in his presence. No attempts to chop his head off yet so everything is looking good. Kai is probably thinking wtf is happening? This must be a dream. Of course, by the end of the scene, we know exactly why Bonnie behaves like this, but the above gif is an example of what he is feeding off of.  Hence, the reason he has this look on his face: 

Kai is intrigued by Bonnie’s behaviour and the unusual setting she chose for them to have this chat. He is trying so hard to contain the joy he feels when he sees her with very little success. He knows that she is playing a game. He doesn’t exactly know what her intentions are, but by the looks of it, it seems to be going in the right direction if you know what I mean. ;) Therefore, he is willing to sit back, get comfortable in his chains and let her play it out, because her behaviour in this moment is the reason why she is the only person he still has a soft spot for. It is like seeing her again, after five years in Hell, has only confirmed why she has always meant something to him. 

So when Bonnie says that Hell no longer exists and he responds:

He is not trying to be condescending; there is low-key admiration in that voice and expression. He isn’t surprised that she helps kill Cade but still, she ceases to amaze him. His tone is soft and honestly he views this entire interaction as some kind of mental foreplay that they always do with each other. 

I mean at this point he could reveal that Katherine takes over Hell, but what is the fun in that? Why stop the game when he doesn’t know how it will end? For all he knows, there could be hate-sex waiting for him at the end of this. He doesn’t know so he prolongs it with banter. It is like a mystery he has to solve. 

Oooo what has Bonnie Bennett planned for me today? 

After all, Kai loves games and no one plays games with him quite like Bonnie does. 

His next line of action is to spew out one-liners to feel her out. He wants to get this game going, put some spice in it. Suss out what her intentions are 

And with each line, the sexual subtext becomes less and less subtle:

This line seems innocent enough but it is also unnecessary. Kai knows Bonnie will not let him loose so why say it? Yes, it could be interpreted as him being clever but remember, underneath that banter, there is a lot of sexual tension. I mean Bonnie literally chuckles in response and the camera suddenly (to my chagrin tbh) goes to a wide-shot where we can’t see their faces but we do see all the red and Bonnie walking towards him...so I would infer if this wasn’t CW but HBO, the line would read: Let me loose, and I’ll totally finger blast you. And you can fight me on that 

And then Kai is like....

You know what, let’s stop mucking about and let me get to the question that has been on my mind since you walked in... are you here to 

 ...because I was totally getting that BDSM vibe from you and i’m literally in chains soooo...if that is what you planned to do then I just want to tell you that I’m ready. My body is prepared and I’m ready for you to punish me *wink*

And then Bonnie says 

which basically makes Kai go mad with lust. If he wasn’t hard before, he is definitely hard af now. To Kai, this is Bonnie just trying to outdo him in their mental chess game and the fact that she is using his own method of delivery to threaten him (such as the head tilts and similar facial expressions) turns him on.  In gif form he is like...

HOLY FUCK! SHE IS SOOO HOT! She just took our mental foreplay to a new level! Using my own fears against me...that is something I would do! Is this woman real? I need to up my game 

 *lowers voice a full octave, husky tone, bedroom eyes*

^Oh Bon, you naughty girl. You know that is not possible so let’s stop with the chit-chat and get to the frick frack. 

Look at his facial expression, tone and mannerisms, without any context, what would your caption be?

Does it look like a man that: 

Is turned on?

Is thinking about sex?

Thinks this conversation will end with Bonnie revealing that she created another prison world specifically for him? 

yes, yes, and no. He thinks he is playing the battle of wits, for fuck sakes. He knows Bonnie is smart, but he doesn’t think she would waste her energy making an ascendant when it has been years since they interacted and he hasn’t tried to hurt her. 

As soon as he sees the ascendant tho, he realises he should have seen this coming. All the qualities he adores about her are the very qualities that would allow for this to happen. He attacked her friends and attempted to kill the twins (*rolls eyes* I blame Plec), so of course Bonnie Bennett would create another prison world to protect the people she loves. 

And yet, the shock is still there  He clenches his jaw to maintain his composure, but he is internally spazzing out. Despite their bad history, he thought this would end differently. He knew she was playing a game but he didn’t think it was that type of game (if that makes sense). She made her final move and checkmate him 

The anger starts to appear when he realises that he has been in Bonnie’s prison  world for their entire conversation. And now, each word that leaves her mouth cuts into him like a knife 

He is scared, he is fuming but most of all, he is hurt which is surprising because he is supposedly free of emotion now 

See the look he gives Bonnie and the deep intake of breath^ 

It is as if he is thinking 

Fantastic! We are that Bonnie and Kai again. 1994 prison world Bonkai... we play mind games and then hurt each other at the end of it. She is still punishing me for what I did to her in 6x22. 

And what surprised me is that his initial response is not to return the favour, but to plea for Bonnie to stay. It is true that his fear is to be in another prison world, but his worst fear is to see the only person he cares about, Bonnie, once again leave him like in 6x17. He is far too vulnerable in this moment to think of his next ‘chess’ move or even hide the power she has over him.

It is only a flicker tho He wasn’t suppose to show Bonnie that he cares 

Part 3: How the tables turn 

@bonkai-legacy @albion19 @bonkai-diaries @ohh-my-josh @animelifecx @ms-ss

(None of the gifs used in this post are mine. Here are the links to the original gifsets: X, X, X, X, X. Please take a moment to reblog the original gifset if you haven’t already. It takes time to make gifsets and I am sure the creator will appreciate the love. :) )

Part 1