#I may need to spend some time in that prison realm

[basically-an-anime-stan-acct]

see? like- i’m not trying to get overreact and overthink but this… this is what i’ve been thinking about after the whole gojo unsealed day celebration

[dragon-kazansky]

Veil of the dreamless

Morpheus x Reader

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Seven - A magical night

☆☆☆

"A ball?"

You look at Matthew, who is perched on your window sill. He had juat come to you to declare that his lord was hosting a ball tonight.

"Yeah. Sounds fun right?"

"But... there wouldn't be very many guests?" You look at him.

"Well, no... but he's doing this for you. He wants you to have a nice time." Matthew caws.

You smile softly and look at your reflection in the mirror. "For me?"

"Yeah. I think he's fond of you."

"Yeah?" You look back at the raven.

"Look, my master is a lot of things, but open about his feeling ain't one of them. Sometimes, you have to look at what he does and not what he says."

You smile again softly.

"What am I supposed to wear?" You ask, relaxing you don't have anything fitting for a ball.

Matthew chuckles. "Don't worry, this is the Dreaming. Open the wardrobe."

You look at the wardrobe and then go over to open it. Upon entering its door, you are greeted with several colourful clothes.

"Pick whatever your heart desires." Matthew caws.

You smile and start going through them.

Meanwhile, in Morpheus' room, Lucienne was standing by the door, watching him panic. He was pacing back and forth muttering to himself.

"Everything alright, my lord?"

Morpheus sighs and slumps over his dresser. His wings hand down, dusting the floor.

"What am I doing?"

"You're going to dance." She says clearly.

"Yes... I know that. Why? Why did I suggest such a thing?"

"Because you wanted to spend an evening with our new friend."

Morpheus sighs.

"Sir, shall I help you dress?" Lucienne offers.

"No need..." Morpheus stands up straight and looks at himself in the mirror. He snaps his fingers, and his clothes change. A long fancy tailcoat, a necktie, and some sleek trousers. His feathers fold back. He looks rather dashing for a bird man.

He stares at himself in the mirror.

Lucienne looks at him. "My lord?"

"Do you think... the curse could be broken?" He asks. He sounded sad.

"Do you think they're the one?" Lucienne asks carefully.

Morpheus sighs and turns his head away. "I shall not get carried with silly fantasies."

Lucienne says nothing else.

You come to the stairs, dressed up for your evening and ready to spend some mkre time with Morpheus. The two of you were getting closer by the day. As you prepare to take the first step down, your eyes are drawn to opposite set of stairs.

Morpheus freezes when he sees you. You smile at him softly. He becomes... flustered. The pair of you descend the stairs to meet in the middle.

"You look -" You both say at the same time. You chuckle.

"You look good," you say to him.

"You look wonderful," he says softly in return. You find yourself becoming rather bashful now.

Morpheus holds out his hand. "May I?"

You nod and place your hand in his. Despite his long talons, your hand fits nicely in his. You both walk down the rest of the stairs together.

Lucienne watches from the top of the staircase with a smile as Matthew lands kn her shoulder.

"This could be the night," Matthew caws.

"We shall see."

You find yourself now standing in a grand ballroom. The palace definitely didn't have this before. It's beautiful. The ceiling depicts the night sky. The curtains are black with twinkling stars embedded in them. Candles light up the room. A single piano sits on one side. You stand in the middle of the room with Morpheus.

"May I have this dance?" He asks.

"There's no music..."

He smiles softly and turns to the door where Lucienne appears. She takes a seat at the piano and begins to play. Matthew perches on top of the instrument.

Morpheus turns back to you. "May I have this dance?" He asks again.

You smile. "Yes."

He pulls you in close, and you both begin to dance. He's a natural, which surprises you. He didn't seem like the dancing type.

He leads you around the room with refined elegance. Each step is graceful. Every twirl is flawless. You keep in perfect time with him.

Not once do you look away.

Your eyes are locked with his as you move around the ballroom. It's like it's impossible for you to look away even for a moment. You take this time to appreciate how handsome je was under all those feathers.

You know that the dream king is a handsome man deep down.

You needed to break this curse. You wanted to help him be the man he once was.

As the piece of music comes to an end, he pulls you in close. Your faces inches away from each other. You pant softly as you look into his eyes. That was the most magical moment of your life.

"Tell me I can help you."

Morpheus sighs softly. "Come with me."

You nod your head softly and keep your hand in his as he leads you out of the ballroom. He says nothing to Lucienne or Matthew.

You both head upstairs.

Lucienne sits back on the piano bench, her eyes trained on the door.

"Do you think we did it?" Matthew asks.

"I don't know..."

"The rose doesn't have many petals left..."

"I know." Lucienne looks down sadly.

They needed you and Morpheus to fall in love. You don't see the monster. You see a man who needs help. Lucienne could only hope that was enough.

☆☆☆

@littleblackcatinwonderland - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @missdreamofendless - @intothesoul -

[jheseltheunswerving]

Bill Cipher is an Icarus

Originally posted on the Gravity Falls Amino in August, 2019.

In Greek mythology, Icarus was the son of Daedalus who was ordered by King Minos to build a structure that could contain a creature called the Minotaur. Rather than building a prison, Daedalus constructed a labyrinth so complex that anyone who entered could never find their way back out. 

Wanting to keep the Minotaur a secret, King Minos locked away Daedalus and his family, including Icarus. 

But Daedalus was clever. He built two pairs of wings out of wax and feathers. One for him and one for Icarus. Once the time came to make the attempt to escape, Daedalus warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun or the wax in his wings would melt. With that, the two started flying toward freedom.

Caught up in the sensation of flight, Icarus forgot his father’s warnings. He went higher and higher, seizing as much of that freedom as he could. He didn’t even notice the wax holding his wings together was melting. Suddenly, the feathers became too loose, and Icarus fell to his death in the sea. 

The story of Icarus is referenced to a couple times in Journal 3 by Ford. The first time he’s talking about how jealous he is of his “Muse” (Bill Cipher) for being free from all physical limitations. If a person spends eight hours of every day asleep, then they would be wasting about ⅓ of their life. While working on the portal, Fiddleford was the first to give into fatigue, and warned Ford not to stay up too late:

“‘Don’t forget what happened to Icarus,’ he told me as he packed up his things and left.

‘He didn’t flap hard enough,’ I replied.”

When Ford finds out what Bill was really planning, he admits Fiddleford was right. 

“If only Icarus could see me now.” Ford’s confession that he has flown too close to the sun, a consequence that almost resulted in his and the world’s undoing. 

But we know how that story ended, and it wasn’t just Ford’s wings that burned. The moral of Icarus’s story is to never forget your limitations. This is why I argue that the other Icarus in “Gravity Falls” is Bill Cipher.

Over the course of his story, Bill had one goal: to be free from all limitations. How this ambition developed doesn’t matter. What’s important to understand is that Bill’s ultimate goal was to be free from laws and restrictions, and that is why he burned his dimension.

Oh, and for some reason there is still some question if Bill burned his dimension. Let me clear that up. 

It’s in the Axolotl’s poem 

It’s in the journal

He admits to it

I hope that cleared up any doubts anyone may still have had.

However, burning his dimension didn’t give Bill the freedom he was after. After the fact, he was trapped in the Nightmare Realm for one trillion years, only able to interact with the physical world by means of possession or through the mindscape. That’s a pretty big limitation. That’s why whenever he came close to overcoming that barrier, and failed, he got visibly frustrated and angry. 

Absolute freedom is what Bill preached to justify what he was doing. It was his way of convincing himself that what he was doing, however messed up, wasn’t wrong. Why does he need to convince himself? Because freedom, the one thing he’s after, is the one thing he can never truly have. 

The Axolotl’s poem, as I showed you before, gives hints to Bill’s possible return. It’s not a particularly new discovery. Most everyone knows this by now, but for the sake of completion, let me recite those hints one more time:

“If he wants to shirk the blame, he’ll have to invoke (the Axolotl’s) name

One way to absolve his crime. A different form, a different time.”

Basically, if Bill wants to further avoid punishment for the arson, he can invoke the Axolotl. But this proves something about Bill. He’ll never be truly free from the responsibility of burning his dimension. He knows this, and it enrages him. 

I mean, how infuriating it must be that the one limitation he can never be free from is the one he imposed on himself. And it’s almost poetic that his downfall happened in a blue fire, similar to his blue fire that he ignites when he makes a deal. Almost like the deal he made with Stan was the moment he flew too close to the sun. 

Since the show ended, there has been a debate whether Bill is evil or tragic. This is my way of arguing both. The truth is, I don’t think there is an evil character who isn’t tragic. Anyone who believes that instigating fear and chaos is the right thing to do must have gone through a lot of pain themselves. That doesn’t make it okay. But it is tragic. 

I think what makes an Icarus is when a person gets too cocky and too comfortable, and they start to think they’re invincible. That’s when they fly too close to the sun. But I don’t think the moral of the story should be “remember your limitations”. I think it should be, “stay grounded”. Don’t be afraid to take risks, just remember that they’re risks. And be prepared that you might fall. 

2024 Review: This is the second of two posts from Amino I'm posting on this blog. I will be creating one more, original post that briefly summarizes my opinion on Bill as of today, which I will later reblog after The Book of Bill comes out.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Hi! I hope you're doing well (despite the Shibuya Sadness 🙃). I've never put in an ask before so sorry if this comes out awkward, but I had to because Another Level is so well written and I'm IN LOVE with the story and Rinko! 😭

1) Will you write an extra about Rinko for when she realized her feelings for Gojo changed? You mentioned Gojo didn't want to say anything at first because Rinko wasn't ready, but those feelings shifted over time. It happened so gradually and naturally. Was it around the time of the mole incident?

2) What do you plan to do when you catch up to the manga? You said you've been wanting to stick as close to canon as possible.

3) Do you have any advice for aspiring writers? Your characters are so fleshed out in both themselves and their relationships and your story is so thought out!

Sorry if that's a lot or you've answered something similar before and I missed it!

💖 Thank you for such a wonderful character and story 💖

Hello!

I am doing okay(mostly). Just a bit emotionally worn out. I found myself forgetting the good times for Rinko and Gojo while writing all the Shibuya angst. It made me lose sight of my end goal for a bit, and I realized I was very unhappy with where that line of thought was taking the story. So, I had to scrap some of what I'd written and spend some time reading the older installments to remind myself that these two idiots are cute and happy together 😭

The next installment has now been rewritten a total of four times, btw.

No need to worry about coming across as awkward, I am also awkward 😅

Thank you for sending this sweet message!!! 💖 It STILL blows my mind that people love Rinko as much as I do. Makes me very happy inside 🥹

I'll put my answers to your questions below the cut!!

If you haven't already, you can read Another Level on AO3 💕

1) OOF. Okay, so. Maybe? I'm planning on writing a bit of a "Story so far" author discussion that'll go into detail about that. I've been working on it for a while, so we'll see if I ever finish it 🙃 I will say that the main reason Gojo couldn't tell her that he loves her is not because she didn't love him back. It was because he knew she wouldn't believe him. We'll see a bit more of that as we go forward.

2) I'm hoping to at least know wtf happens to Gojo before we catch up!! 😅 On the bright side, there's literally a month that isn't covered in the manga once he's released from the Prison Realm, so I'm going to use that to my advantage 😂😂

3) The best advice I can give is just keep writing. It's the only way to improve. Keep writing, get feedback when and where you can, and write about what you want to write about. That always makes it easier. But, don't force yourself to write. Follow that little inspiration fairy wherever it may take you!

The last thing I'll say about that is write something that you enjoy reading, too.

I genuinely enjoy reading Another Level, as conceited as that might sound. And I've tried hard not to post an installment that I don't enjoy reading. So, I think that's what's the most important when it comes to improving and growing over time!

Thank you again for this sweet message!!

[daja-the-hypnokitten]

Jukebox reviews part 28! For context, see my post “A Project”     under this same tag. If you want to see a full list of his EMCSA   stories, they can be found here, sorted alphabetically.And if you want to see some of his drabbles, check out his blog at @jukeboxemcsa

Double Vision

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

1/2/2016                                       mc ff

First - ok, do the Ljosalfar also exist in the world of this story? (then again, are the Ljosalfar even a distinction from the Dokkalfar that existed pre-Christian influence? I dunno, the mythology is fairly incomplete as it stands, and none of this has anythign to do with the story so why am I spending so much time on this anyway?) Second, why does getting hit on the head give Jo the Second Sight? Or did she always have the capacity for it, and the hit just catalyzed it? REGARDLESS, as none of that has anythign to do with the actual control part of the story, moving on. It's a good story. Very fantasy, but I grew up LOVING mythology, so even though I'm a little rusty on it, seeing something drawing on myth is lovely. And the idea of control that most folk dont' notice, and that even though she *does* notice it Jo can't resist? It works within the context of the story. The actual control we see is fairly pedestrian by EMCSA standards, but the worldbuilding done around it means I like this story much more than I might have otherwise. 8/10 spirals 

 Wide Awake

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

1/2/2016                                       mc mf md

This falls into the therapist abusing trust trope I strongly dislike, but outside of that it's well done and put together. If you like the trope, give this one a read! 

 Take Me Home Tonight

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

1/9/2016                                       mc mf md

I don't know what to say about this story. It's so far out of my general realm of control I like that I have no frame of reference for it. It's half possession, half mind control of a different sort, and just not my style. But If you like dream and possession magic, give it a go? 

 Forever Your Girl

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

1/16/2016                                     mc mf md cb rb

Huh, from the title I was expecting this to be a Girls(tm) story, not a superhero story, and not such a tragic one at that. Oh, it has its moments of heat, during the transformation that takes place, but the end of it is just tragic. To be forced to continue loving someone who's dead, unable to truly mourn, No matter how much heat is in the rest of the story, I can't find it hot on the whole with that layer of tragedy underlying it. it's a GOOD story, just ... another one that isn't really erotica to me. 5/10 spirals 

 Trust and Obey

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

1/23/2016                                     mc ff hu

This story feels like a cross between Green Eggs and Ham and The Cat in the Hat. I get distracted by the couplets, especially the occasional slant rhyme, and honestly Dr Seuess-esque language in an erotica story is just offputting. 3/10 spirals 

 X, Y and Zee

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

1/30/2016                                     mc ff

... There is no IRB in the country that would approve this story, so this isn't just self-funded, but there can't be any meaningful oversight either. Also, her work needs more footnotes. Also, she clearly needs to review what we've learned from the Stanford Prison experiment; any time a researcher directly involves themselves in the experiment, as she did, it skews objectivity, and makes it less generalizable. We also ought to be presented with the method of recruitment; the nature of the recruitment can bias who is likely to apply. Further, any experiment of this sort should have included a boiler plate "you may revoke consent at any time" clause. Which clearly X was not provided. Putting the design/framing of the story aside, this is ... well, clearly it bothers me a little bit, given my science background, in the ways that it betrays the doctor's intentions with it. Which makes sense in context, but I get distracted considering how I'd improve the experiment. And it's a solid experiment for the goal of "how can I make girls want to have sex with me," rather than "how can I test response to authority?" - they *are* two different questions. The external view of the shifting mindset is less to my taste, and X's clear distress makes this less hot than it would be otherwise. 5/10 spirals 

 Kissing Disease

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

2/6/2016                                       mc ff mf fd md

Nope, I had to nope out of this one. I can't with stories of a pandemic spreading and people minimizing it until it's undeniable that it has to be worse that they say it is. I just can't. 

 Skeleton Key

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

2/13/2016                                     mc mf md

This one is a lot more magic than my preference, though the sudden internal changes are fascinating and add some heat for me. And Merrion acknowledging that he's being unethical actually makes me feel better, in some ways? I at least have more hope that he'll treat Paula right after this. And she clearly is getting something out of it, too, which helps. But it does come down to just being too magic for my tastes - though if you like magical artifacts driving the control, give this one a look. 6/10 spirals 

 The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Fall

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

2/20/2016                                     mc mf ff fd hm

I never quite understand how pleasure is that overwhelming for folk. It can be fun to play with, sure, but to make me completely let go around someone who puts me on edge? I don't get it and never will. Especially given the context of their interaction here. Maybe I'm just too ace to ever truly grok it, though. But the way she uses the sensation to take control, to build an effective overload induction as she does? It's well done and well written, if a bit cold for my personal preferences.  7/10 spirals 

 Zone Out

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

2/27/2016                                     mc

Another induction, and one that would be *really* good for folk who have trouble staying completely focused on a hypnotist, if it were a recording rather than a text induction, as it was clearly written to be read aloud.  The way it uses the idea of focusing on something other than the hypnotist, and letting their voice (and I want to say her, because I'm hearing Lady Ru'etha's voice reading it in my head, for all it's Jukebox's words) just slip past the conscious awareness. It does, of course, include arousal and orgasm suggestions, so be aware of that if you're susceptible to text inductions, but I also recommend hypnotists read this one and take some inspiration for if playing with folk who are easily distracted when trancing. 9/10 spirals

[auxiliarydetective]

OC Masterlist - Movies!

As per usual, everyone is listed with their age at their introduction into the "present" storyline.

Fandoms featured:

The A-Team (movie)

Ghostbusters

Indiana jones

K-12: The Film

Lord of the Rings

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Night at the Museum

Star Wars (Original Trilogy)

THE A-TEAM (2010)

Looking for the TV Show? Here it is!

-> (Movie!)Kit

"E anche se ho solo vent'anni dovrò correre." - Måneskin, in: VENT'ANNI

Full name: Sergeant Anne Karma "Kit" Kelley

Birthday: August 1st, 1989 (21 years old)

Identity: gay/bisexual (strong preference for men), trans man

Faceclaim: Kristen Stewart

Tag: x | Fic: -

Kit ran away from his parents when he was young and joined the circus, but his father tracked him down, so he had to flee further - and ended up in the military, signing up for Ranger School. His rebellious nature and acrobatic prowess quickly gained him a reputation, and prompted Colonel "Hannibal" Smith to track him down, adding him to his crack commando unit, the A-Team. However when the war comes to an end, the team is arrested for a crime they didn't commit. But if the world thinks that something as trivial as some prison bars can stop the A-Team, then they're horribly mistaken.

GHOSTBUSTERS (1984-?)

-> Charlie

"Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas - everybody's looking for something." - Eurythmics, in: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Full name: Charlie Drake, alias Chandrah the Vanguard, Guide of the Departed, Precursor of Gozer

Birthday: unknown (5000+ Earth years old) (assigned October 31st)

Identity: demonic (~ omnisexual, polyamorous, demiboy)

Faceclaim: Anthony Turpel (female: Juno Temple)

Tag: x | Fic: x

Chandrah has been summoned in the middle of a parking lot, far away from any altars or temples, and with no way to return to its dimension. With nothing else to do, it explores the human realm a bit, happening upon a group of parapsychologists and their odd devices. From then on, it decides to spend its time on Earth studying these odd scientists under the disguise of a human yet psychically gifted young man called Charlie Drake, waiting how long it'll take them to figure out what he really is. But as the scientists start finding real ghosts and form a company based on fighting and catching them, he forgets about how he even got there, until the mention of a Gatekeeper and Keymaster forces him back into the gravity of the situation.

INDIANA JONES (1981-2023)

-> Dotty

Full name: Dorothy Opal Hall

Birthday: February 2nd (29 years old)

Identity: probably bisexual

Faceclaim: Holliday Grainger

Tag: x | Fic: -

Close to graduation and needing to go on one more field trip to get her degree, Dorothy Opal Hall is constantly asking her professor if he can arrange something for her. When he finally agrees to take her with him on one of his travels, things go very sour very fast and Dotty realizes that her professor isn't all that she made him out to be. On top of that, graduation may be one of her least important worries now that her life is quite literally on the line.

K-12: THE FILM (2019)

-> Honey

"Cryin' inside, 'cause nothing I say ever comes out right. We're on the same side, but if I'm honest with you, you just run and hide." - Melanie Martinez, in: Fire Drill

Full name: "Honey" Penelope

Birthday: February 15th (? years old)

Identity: lesbian, demigirl

Faceclaim: Isolda Dychauk

Tag: x | Fic: -

The mute daughter of K-12 teacher Miss Penelope, nicknamed "Honey" after her golden necklace, is an empath and incredibly shy. But she's a fantastic dancer and, above all, a very kind soul.

LORD OF THE RINGS (2001-2003)

-> Lindewen

Full name: Lindewen / Linda Seasong

Birthday: March 10th (age unknown)

Identity: unknown

Faceclaim: Nadia Parkes

Tag: x | Fic: -

Lindewen is a figure of legends among the people of Middle Earth, each race seeming to have its own version of her in their collective mind. She's known as a kind soul, a sacred musician, a fearless adventurer, the most recent of her tales telling of her sacrifice to save the Lonely Mountain, putting herself into eternal sleep. But since then, Lindewen, also known as the True Halfling, has disappeared. That is until Gandalf finds her hiding out in a halfling village, living as a storyteller and musician. Tired of immortality and heroism, she refuses to accompany him and his fellowship on their quest, but she also cannot let herself have them leave without treating them to a good meal first. In the course of a single evening, her conviction seems to change, and Lindewen is out on a final adventure.

THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN (2003)

-> Varsha

"Quietly, you are saving me, please don't fade away into the darkness of night - I don’t need no light to see you shine." - VoicePlay/JVKE, in: Golden Hour

Full name: Varsha Devi

Birthday: unknown (? years old) (assigned July 16th)

Identity: nagi? (~pansexual, cis female)

Faceclaim: Banita Sandhu

Tag: x | Fic: x

When the members of the League are introduced to Varsha Devi, they already expect that there might be more to the Nautilus's mysterious beauty of a navigator. Maybe that she actually does speak English but has a secret reason not to. Maybe that her identity is false. But when they do find out the truth, it's unlike anything they even considered.

NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM (2006-?)

-> Bára

"Lass uns Wege, lass uns Zeichen finden dort im Heidekraut, Lieder von den Wölfen lernen und vom Wind im Espenlaub." - Faun, in: Nacht des Nordens

Full name: Bára Heiðradóttir

Birthday: ~9th century (died 16 years old) (assigned January 21st)

Identity: bisexual, cis-female

Faceclaim: Frida Gustavsson

Tag: x | Fic: x

Bára is unlike the other wax figures at the museum, and nobody can fully understand why. Along with a soul bringing her to life, she seems to have gained her model's affinity for magic as well. With a new nightguard starting his job, chaos descends upon the museum and now, more than ever, Bára finds herself drawn to the mysterious pharaoh locked in his tomb.

STAR WARS (Original Trilogy) (1977-1983)

-> Lani

"Everybody in the world knows I'm a little twisted." - MISSIO, in: Twisted

Full name: Lan "Lani" Skywalker

Birthday: unknown day, 19 BBY (19 years old) (assigned May 4th)

Identity: asexual, aromantic, butch/tomboy?

Faceclaim: Amrita Acharia

Tag: x | Fic: x

Lani is the middle child out of the Skywalker triplets, and has struggled with anger issues and the force since she was a little child. Raised under the care of her father's former padawan Ahsoka Tano, she was the only one to get a proper jedi training until her reunion with her brother and an aged Obi-Wan Kenobi on the desert planet Tatooine. But as always with the Skywalkers, things don't go as planned at all.

[wildestheart4ever]

Back on my half-baked “Danny Phantom adopts Jason Todd” nonsense [Original post  x] with more detail:

Danny raising baby ghost Jason for however long Jason’s been dead. Jason basically yoinks out of Ghost Zone existence and Danny thinks he moved on or whatever have yous.

Danny’s reluctantly accepting of the fact, but he really liked the kid [or whatever the remnants of him were], so there’s a lot of sad times :( :( :(

Until Jay is being dunked in the pool in what we DCxDP fans collectively agree is corrupted/dead/impure ectoplasm.

All powerful being of the Infinite Realms that Danny is, immediately notices the return of his little ghostly fledgling and snatches him.

And just....never gives him back.

Talia and whatever other league members that were there just waiting for Jason to resurface and then just kinda stand there dumbfounded when it becomes clear to them that it ain’t happening

“......Welp, time for plan G-2.0″

Danny realizes he got a very amnesiatic, pissy LP corrupted baby back and decides it's time for some extensive therapy....and a purifying bath, cause his little Jay smells like rot.

Jason obviously ain't gung-ho about paternal figures and is very gung-ho about his revenge plans, but he obviously has no idea how to get out of the GZ so he’s kinda a lowkey prisoner for a while there.

The baths are nice.

The purifying is a long multi-session type thing, so Danny takes that time to just hammer it into Jason’s head “Hey, your plans for the morally corrupt are all fine and dandy, but maybe don’t go around hurting innocent people just cause you got a massive chip on your shoulder”

Danny basically makes it clear that Jason is still technically under his jurisdiction and he will kick his ass if he strays from the path of righteousness.

A robin is saved that day

See Bats? Danny ain’t a complete enabler

It takes months before Danny thinks Jason is clearheaded enough to go out into the world and start leaving his bloody prints. If he assigns some shadows to keep an eye on Jay in a fit of over-protectiveness, well then that’s his business

If he winds up staying around ClockWork’s tower to watch Jason kick ass and take heads like a proud parent watching his kid’s soccer game, well that’s his business too.

Shut up, ClockWork

Cue aforementioned scandal with the Joker. [After what I decided was a terrifying session of Joker getting tortured by the souls of his more angrier victims “That’s just a taste of what’s waiting for you on the other side >:)”]

Pure ectoplasm has a weird calming affect on the LP infected, so while reminding Jason that he has a purifying session next month, Danny gives him Cujo as a substitute in the mean time.

“He’ll be there to protect you, keep you company, keep you clearheaded. He obviously doesn’t need to be fed or taken out to do his business - you know the deal. Also just so you know, if these bats give you any trouble, Cujo will get you out of that mess.”

Danny says this, all while giving Batman that too wide, sharp-toothed grin

He spends a few minutes saying goodbye to Jason like he’s sending him off to school or smth.

Jason is lowkey embarrassed and maybe viciously gleeful at how awkward it’s making Batman.

Danny bids farewell like this was just another day of world saving, and not him basically telling Bruce he’s ain’t giving Jason back so easily before leaving in the same bone-chilling display as when he came in [ala Eldritch horror lookin, souls of the damned swarming him like a gruesome looking cloak, light fixtures flickering ala horror movie, with deranged whispers of what might have been him saying See you again soon]    

Robin may have gotten the promise that Jason wouldn't go after his ass, but he sure knows he ain’t sleeping tonight.

The others still feel the chills.

Jason remains unbothered “That’s just him being dramatic, he wanted to scare the shit out of you.”

And just leaves with his new dog.

They don’t get to follow.

Cujo doesn’t let them.

So Jason proceeds to go about his business becoming a crime lord with his loyal and protective two-faced hound from hell in tow.

The criminals are qaukin’ in their boots.

Batman is unbothered cause he’s still distracted by the fact of being in a custody battle with the fucking Ghost King

He is very much considering using his contingency plans for Phantom.

Superman won't let him.

[everythingthemoontouches]

💙Hi there! , First of all i want to tell you that i love your blog! And i love how your posts are so accurate!💙 If its okay with you could you please do me a favor by describing how others see me,my appearance or more specifically the vibe I radiate to others! It would mean alot to me if you you do that💙I'm a cancer sun,leo rising,Lilith sextile asc, Pluto trine asc, Uranus opposition asc, Moon opposition asc, mars sextile venus, mars opposition neptune, asteroid lilith conjunct mc and jupiter in the 1st house!💙

Hola!

Thank you that's really kind of you 💛💕

You know that quote that says Cinderella never asked for a prince. All she wanted was a night out and a dress. You kind of exude a similar vibe but with respect to leadership positions. 'I never asked to be Queen/King, but the people have spoken' kind of an energy. You would be equally happy to be by yourself, learning about the subconscious mind, higher realms and other esoteric science.

For more on Jupiter in LEO I'd recommend watching Astrofinesse.

For jupiter in the first there's KRS.

🌻As a Leo rising you come across as someone outgoing, with a playful energy but you're also somehow someone people would expect to see in a position of authority. You're drawn to people who stimulate you intellectually and love to exchange ideas.

😬If you have an Aquarius saturn you could be having some challenges in your relationships since December 2020 as saturn transits your 7th house. I'd suggest practicing discernment in this area as well as signing contracts with people until it passes( early 2023) ..

😇12th house sun could take on other people's energy. I feel like you need some time away, by yourself, preferably at the beach / pool/ shower to declutter, clear your head and replenish your sense of Self. You could be highly intuitive. If this resonates, I'd urge you to look up empath drain and how to protect yourself from energy vampires.

Ruler of the ascendant in the 12th :

spirituality could be a huge part of your life. For some people this could show a father (figure) who was convicted or worked in a prison / asylum. They could also have a really remote job. Since the sun is also your own personal identity, you could profit off these themes. Working in a mental health facility, overseas, in esoteric crafts.

🌛With your moon in the 7th house, you probably attract a lot of older women, (queen of swords) nurturing energies . Your mom could have a major influence on any business partnerships that you enter.

In relationships you could have a here today gone tomorrow kind of a presence. This is because as the moon waxes and wanes so does your attraction / attachment to specific people?

♒Aquarius moon : it could be really hard for you to express your feelings. So Instead of asking for a hug there could be a tendency to say something like ' ew imagine asking for one?' you leave a place better than you found it. If you watch hindi movies, 3 Idiots could be a movie you really resonate with. ( I pretty much spent the day looking up the lead actor, who has major aquarius placements and his films have always been disruptive with a really nice social message that left people talking for years after they were released. I tell you this because he shares 2 of your big 3 - aquarius and cancer.)

Going off on this tangent you could be a well respected teacher / writer / entertainer. Jupiter in LEO could help with this.

I do feel like you need a certain amount of inventiveness in your relationships. The people you're with are people who introduce you to new hobbies / ideas / technologies. You need to feel like you guys learn something new or create something that matters together. This is enhanced by uranus in the 7th house. You could come across really cold because you always give people the naked honest truth when asked. You do this from a place of love. I'm reminded of the Queen of Swords card in the rider Waite tarot. Not everyone has the maturity to take it. Or maybe they've just had a bad day. It is what it is. Perhaps try to not be so incisive if this is something you struggle with.

In the same vein, if I asked you to write down how you were feeling how long would it take for you to identify the right emotion. How honest are you with yourself?

Moon and Uranus being in the same house could show that stagnation could really hurt your mental health / happiness / satisfaction levels.

With a saturn ruled moon I feel like I need to remind you to not be so hard on yourself. Like. The world won't crumble to dust if you allow yourself to take care of you once in a while.there's only so much you can do.

All those coffee mugs will catch up. There's no such thing as extra hours in the day. A lack of sleep manifests as early signs of aging. No hate for the elderly but arthritis is not a fun ailment to have. Do you wanna be 60 with 80 year old nervous system problems? I rest my case.

Uranus and moon aspect your ascendant so you could have a slightly plump look?

Jupiter in the first house people usually have prominent thighs. I had a friend with this placement and when we were growing up she used to complain of chafed thighs a lot?

Mars sextile venus you could be your own type? The way you act and the way you want your future partners to express love could be quite similar which is good for healthy relationships.

There could be a tendency to spend impulsively.

With Mars sextiling venus you could be someone who earns more the more active their lifestyle is? Like, you may need to be an agile learner to keep money flowing in .

Jupiter in LEO in a woman's chart usually shows they'd have a financially well off spouse so money may not be a huge concern. He could be a sailor or earn via exports/ navy. It's hard to say without knowing where your Saturn is.

The image you project to the world could be a lot more outgoing than how you actually feel. You're more private than people think.

With a fire rising, water sun and air moon you could either be a really balanced person or just have a number of clashing ideas on who to be, what to do and achieve.

Descendant : The people that hate on you could attack your need to stand out /try to dim your time in the spotlight. Think aquarius themes of standing out to improve community clashing with Leo's need to stand out solely because it helps their ego. Like your confidence could trigger the part if them that felt judged negatively for expressing their individuality.

Do you feel like you thrive in chaos? I'm guessing you're atleast in your late 20s if not older, so you might have gotten better at dealing with people acting unexpectedly. Your mom could have been unpredictable. Really intelligent, but forgets to eat ..

🥤🦀As a cancer sun, you could be the friend your friends come to for advice. There could be a tendency to be a little too selfless. I think your aqua moon really serves as a shield to those who try to take advantage of your caring nature. Have you considered a career in psychic medium ship? Or any spiritual art/ past life regression / you get the drift..

Is there a family craft or hobby that you could monetize? Jupiter in LEO could signify ancestral gains.

Lilith and Pluto aspects to ascendant can make you come across really sexy / a bit unapproachable because people feel like you have some kind of power that places you above them?

Due to this, people with Pluto / Lilith aspects can feel some kind of hurt around people clearing up the path around them if that makes sense.

Jupiter opposite moon : there could be a clash between you want to do VS what you feel you should be doing.

Jupiter in the first house : you could have been born rich? Or people just perceive you that way. They also see you as someone wordly wise and lucky in general. You could know a lot about a wide variety of things. Specially on topics related to appearance, personal development, image consciousness etc. Since the ruler of the first is in the 12th I feel like some of your wisdom comes from a divine source. Like you're tapping into some kind of a collective reservoir of knowledge. In starseed terminology we would refer to this as downloads.

Jupiter rules the 8th house and 5th house.

So love, romance, games, early education may have been a bit of a breeze for you.

Jupiter is usually a bit of a celibate spiritual person. So, while it may make you really wise with respect to things like the occult / tarot / other 8th house themes, I'm not sure how it would impact your sex life with a spouse. Sex could be either a deeply spiritual experience for you or take on more neptunian traits. Addiction / alcoholism / drug use the works. Jupiter expands the themes of the house it rules so a word of caution there.

Travelling could bring you luck. Or even love.

Did I hear Mars opposite Neptune?

This could be a literal battlefield. You could feel like you need to work for love.if Neptune is unconditional love and Mars is your drive, then you could literally match to get to taht elusive unconditional sense of belonging /love / acceptance. But what are you marching towards really? A mirage? With this aspect I'd really be on the guard against addiction of any kind. Neptune is enticing, alluring, mocking Mars for its need to conquer. It could lend a really nice swagger to your walk. A runway model could benefit from thus placement. At uts best this aspect imbues you with creativity, inspiration, otherworldly imagination and the energy required to turn your abstract ideas of art into something tangible.

Here's a source for more on this placement. Sometimes I find that the comments really help me make sense of my own placements

Toodles

Before I sign off, I just have to say this :please try to restrict asks to 2-3 placements. You can send in multiple asks if you'd like, but answering them all in one ask can get a bit cluttered and I'd hate to miss out on something 😊

Hope this helped 💕as always, I'd really appreciate your feedback on this take on how these placements affect you.

[wistfulcynic]

till we be dead ourselves

I saw a thing today that made me a bit cross and reminded me of how unsatisfying I've always found the Brothers Jones reunion in the underworld. This is the result. It's not anti-Liam but it does change him quite a lot from canon, so if that's not your jam you may want to skip this one.

Basically, this is the Brothers Jones I would have liked to see.

Also, at least part of the inspiration came from chatting with @thesschesthair and @winterbythesea about alternative POVs on our OTP. So here, guys, have a Liam. Beware, there are feels. 

SUMMARY: Liam Jones has been waiting for his brother for three hundred years. When he finally arrives, he's not as Liam remembers. Some not-typical or particularly respectful of canon Brothers-Jones-in-the-underworld feels, plus a dash of Captain Swan.

words: 2025 rating: T tags: not canon compliant, underworld AU, brothers jones. Major characters are already dead. 

on AO3

-

till we be dead ourselves: 

He’s been waiting a long time for this. Three hundred years. 

Well, two hundred ninety-three years and eighty-six days, to be precise. He knows because he looked it up. He had to. It’s not easy keeping track of time here; some seconds tick so slowly they’re torture while years can pass in the blink of an eye. 

Years, such as they are. There aren’t really years in this place, or truly ‘time’ at all. There’s not really anything. This is nothingness, a void, a repository for whatever souls are made of, and different to each one. They’re trapped here, these souls, until they finish whatever business still remains for them, and over the centuries he’s seen so many come and go—some sorrowfully confused by what they need to do, others firmly certain. 

As for Liam Jones, he’s always known why he’s here. His unfinished business is Killian. 

On the day Killian arrives Liam can barely contain his excitement. Not just because he may finally be free of this place but because he longs to see his little brother again. He’s missed Killian, and also he’s keen to know what the devil took him so long. How is it possible that his brother’s life stretched on for over three hundred years? 

He walks quickly through the town—an odd little town, unlike any he encountered while alive. His afterlife has manifested it for only a few years. Before that it was ships and ports and then it was jungle. Ships and jungle, jungle and ships for so very, very long. He’s come to realise that his afterlife reflects what his brother does Above, though what precisely that consisted of he is not privileged to know. He’s hoping Killian will tell him. 

He knocks on the door of a large, blue house and waits, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. When it opens he turns with a smile that freezes on his face. 

The man framed in the doorway is his brother, unmistakably him, yet Liam finds he’s not prepared for how much Killian has changed. He feels foolish for being taken so by surprise; of course Killian is not what he remembers. He’s not still the eager young lieutenant he was when Liam died, obviously not. He couldn’t be. 

But the man before him is… hard. Jaw set and eyes cold, with an aura of both danger and command. A man not to be trifled with. His face is still youngish—mid-thirties, perhaps—but his eyes are ancient. Tired and bitter and heavy with the weight of ages, and abruptly Liam feels very, very young. 

“K-killian?” he ventures. 

Killian’s brow wrinkles in confusion that lasts an uncomfortable beat or two, and then it clears. His eyes widen. “Liam,” he breathes. “Is it really you?” 

“It’s me, brother.” Liam attempts a smile again. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

Killian pulls him into a hug which he returns warmly, though the sound of curse words on his brother’s lips has stunned him. He smells of leather, and of the sea. And rum. Liam blinks through a fresh wave of astonishment. Killian has been drinking. Drinking rum. 

Killian pulls back from the hug but keeps his hand on Liam’s shoulder. His eyes are crinkled by a smile that Liam can’t help noticing barely touches the depth of sadness in them. “It’s good to see you, brother,” he says. 

“You’ve changed,” Liam blurts, then curses his impulsive tongue when the smile fades from his brother’s face. 

“Aye,” Killian says. “It’s been some time.” 

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Liam agrees. “How? How was it that long?” 

“Perhaps you’d better come in, Liam,” Killian says. He steps back and holds the door. “We’ve rather a lot to discuss.” 

-

Liam spends that first night in his brother’s house. Killian seems at a bit of a loss for what to do with himself in all the space and curiously reluctant to speak of why his afterlife has manifested such a dwelling just for him. Of course the dead don’t truly sleep, but Liam passes the night deep in thought, still in shock over what he’s learned about life his brother led. 

Killian is Captain Hook. A pirate. A man whose name Liam has heard in hushed whispers on the lips of many a soul who’s passed through this place. None of those whispers spoke of anything good. 

He cannot reconcile his little brother, even three hundred years of bitter loss and violent struggle later, as the cruel and vengeful villain of those tales. He cannot. It’s simply not possible. 

“Much of what they recounted was likely exaggerated,” Killian said wryly, “or hearsay. But I’ve done much I’m not proud of, Liam. I killed men without a second thought. I plundered lands across the realms. I have not led a good life.” 

“Then why are you here?” Liam demanded. “If you were as bad as all that, you wouldn’t end up in limbo.” 

“Perhaps I may have done enough in the past few years to warrant a chance at redemption,” Killian reflected. “I suppose we’ll see.” 

“And do you know what your unfinished business is?” 

Killian swallowed visibly, then nodded. “I believe I do.” 

-

Over the next week Liam keeps an eye on his brother. It’s not that he’s concerned—well, yes, it is that he’s concerned. There’s a restless energy to Killian that makes Liam uneasy, worried that he might do something rash. So he watches, from a distance, as Killian sets about finishing his business. He watches his brother seek out many of the men who bore the tales about him, those who still remain at least. He sees the fear in those men’s faces, and the anger. Sometimes he hears their voices, raised and vicious. It pains him to witness these things—not least the shame on Killian’s face—but he forces himself not to interfere. 

His brother is not a man to be trifled with. 

One day he observes Killian deep in conversation with a woman, dark-haired and statuesque. They stand close together in the manner of those who’ve shared a deep intimacy, and even from a distance he can see that they are crying. Killian pulls the woman into his arms where she weeps into his shoulder, and before they part he presses his lips to hers. 

It’s farewell. 

With every interaction Killian’s burden lessens, though he remains weighed down by things Liam can barely fathom. Each night they meet at the blue house, where they sit together and talk. They have three hundred years of catching up to do. As they talk Killian drinks, and Liam has begun to as well. He senses his brother could use company in more than conversation, and it’s not like alcohol can harm the dead. It doesn’t do them much good either, but the phantom rum seems to soothe Killian, and loosen his tongue. 

Though not enough, Liam comes to realise, for Killian to speak of why he’s really here. 

-

Her arrival sparks an uproar such as Liam has never experienced, even in all the time he’s passed in this place. She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here. It’s not possible. 

Yet here she is. 

Word of it spreads like wildfire; Liam is polishing glasses at the bar where he inexplicably works when it reaches his ears. 

“They say she’s alive,” says one of the regulars, in hushed tones. “Alive, and here.” 

“That’s impossible,” Liam scoffs. “None of the living can come here. And even if they could why would they want to?” 

“She’s here to rescue someone,” the regular replies. “Her true love. That makes it possible, or so they say.” 

“And the man died in sacrifice,” another adds. “Huge sacrifice, before his time.” 

Before his time, Liam thinks. That should rule Killian out. Yet he can’t shake this feeling, this creeping suspicion born of Killian’s refusal to discuss how he died, or how he lived these past few years. There’s a reason this town is his afterlife, and Liam’s too. There’s a reason he’s alone in that big house. 

He sets the glass down, and the rag. “I have to go,” he says. 

-

It couldn’t be more obvious that the woman doesn’t belong. She’s visibly, ostentatiously alive, so full of life she glows. It draws the souls—ghoulishly, Liam thinks—but none dare approach too closely. The woman looks as though if anyone could kill a soul that’s already dead, it’s her. 

She heads down Main Street and Liam follows. Past the diner and the library, around the corner and up the street where Killian lives. A tight knot forms in Liam’s chest as she walks up to the blue house then stops, with her hand on the gate. 

The door flies open and Killian appears on the porch. He stares at the woman, who offers him a smile that strikes Liam as far too tremulous for her take-no-prisoners demeanour. 

“Swan,” Killian chokes. His voice sounds broken. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to save you,” the woman replies. She opens the gate and takes a few steps forward. Killian stumbles off the porch to close the distance between them. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says. “You shouldn’t be here, not here. Not you.” 

“I had to, Killian!” She looks up at him imploringly. “You shouldn’t have died like that. You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.” 

She takes his hand and laces their fingers tighter. Killian’s breath catches. “Come back with me, Killian. Come home.” 

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“You can. I know a way.” Her voice drops as she steps closer, but Liam can still hear her words. “Don’t try to make me live the rest of my life without you, Killian Jones,” she says. “I won’t do it.” 

“Swan—” 

“I won’t do it,” she repeats. “I love you.” 

Liam can see the moment Killian breaks. He snatches the woman into his arms, holds her tightly as she clings to him and magic twines palpably around them. This is not what he had with the brunette, Liam realises. That was love, yes, and intimacy. It was grief, deep and terrible but of a normal sort. 

This is agony. This is two souls that should never have been parted and the connection that still binds them, so powerful it can draw a living woman into the land of the dead. 

No wonder Killian couldn’t speak of her, Liam thinks, or of the circumstances of his death. The pain must have been too great. 

Liam’s been dead so long he’s forgotten how sensitive a subject it can be. 

The man died in sacrifice, he recalls. Huge sacrifice, before his time. 

He died for her. And now she’s here to bring him back. 

-

“This feels too soon,” Killian says, as he hugs Liam tight. “I only just found you again.” He pulls back and gives his brother a shrewd look. “And I sense that when I’m here again, you no longer will be.” 

“No,” Liam agrees. His business is finished now. And Killian’s not coming back, not to this place. Not if Emma Swan has anything to say about it. The next time Killian Jones dies it will be with his life’s purpose fully met. 

He’s glad they had this time, though, and not just because he needed it to move on. He’s glad he got to know his brother as a man, a flawed and troubled one, yes, but one who has goodness at his core and is finally where he needs to be. It only took three hundred years for him to get there. 

He’s also glad Killian is still shorter than he is, for all that Liam appears ten years younger than his brother now. He’s glad because he can still wrap his arm around Killian’s neck and ruffle his hair. He does so now, though Killian’s indignant “Oi!” of protest twists his heart. He sounds so like his younger self, that boy Liam spent centuries waiting for and will never see again. 

“I love you, little brother,” he whispers. 

Killian swallows hard, and nods. “I love you too.” 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Currently rewatching S2 and while I was going through 2x12, I’m wondering how in the hell Lena was arrested and sent to prison within what seems to be a handful of hours? I would imagine someone as wealthy and well connected as Lena would have a cabal of lawyers on retainer who would be all over the NCPD in a heartbeat. They’d have Lena released because the one piece of “evidence” they had against Lena was circumstantial at best. Because how does it make any sense for Lena to betray Lillian in 2x8 only to try to free her from custody a few episodes later? And also, I thought Metallo needed his kryptonite heart to stay alive. But apparently not since they’re accusing Lena of somehow managing to sneak a volleyball sized green rock into the prison, past the security checkpoints, and navigated from the visitors area where she met Lillian into the bowels of the prison where Metallo was. Or did they straight up kill Metallo while he was in prison by removing the kryptonite from his chest? It really doesn’t make any sense. And also shouldn’t Winn have recognized Cyborg Superman’s coding since the first time he looked over the video if he’s really so familiar with it? And where were the well deserved apologies from the NCPD, the DEO and CatCo? And why wasn’t this episode the moment Kara told Lena the truth?

For the prison stuff--- you're right about the lawyers, but it may have taken them some time to activate, you know? Maggie arrested Lena late in the day, so spending a night in a holding cell/jail wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility until operating hours resumed in morning (do police stations/jails have operating hours?). The time elapsed was a little confusing, because it only seemed like less than a day, which would be a lot to get Lena processed and properly jailed, rather than put in a holding cell.

But if it was long enough to get processed and go through a bail hearing and all that, it does make sense that Lena would have been remanded into custody, considering her family's history for escaping custody and that her wealth makes her a significant flight risk. And also the severity of having allegedly aided her mother in attacking a courtroom (not unlike the way Lex did, killing an entire jury box) would have also resulted in incarceration.

As far as apologies go... CatCo wouldn't be likely to give one, considering how James feels about Lena being a Luthor. And apologies from the authorities isn't warranted, as they were acting upon evidence they believed to be genuine, and did so in the interest of protecting the public. And the DEO didn't really officially act against Lena. In fact, they were the ones who devoted the resources to look closer at the tapes.

And as for that episode being the moment Kara told Lena the truth..... meh. It's still really early in the friendship, despite Kara's faith in Lena's goodness. There's an intimacy required that hasn't been built yet.

[robininthelabyrinth]

How about a canon divergence where wen qing doesn't bump into wwx but instead bumps into nhs and nmj. Would it be a tragedy or a fixit? Would nhs temper nmj's hatred for wens? Would nmj act honorably at seeing the old men and women and children doing hard labor or would he only see the clan he hates?

1

It was Nie Huaisang’s fault, probably. Someone tripped over someone else’s feet, and then he apologized and she apologized and then they both apologized, and then there was the whole “you go first, no you go first” dance and anyway eventually Nie Mingjue stormed over to yell at his younger brother for wasting time. He took one look at the ash-faced girl, caught her by the shoulder and said, “Aren’t you that Wen Qing? I used to see you at discussion conferences – what are you doing here?”

The whites of her eyes showed in her terror, and he scowled fiercely. “I don’t slay unarmed women or children outside of combat,” he said. “The question was literal – what are you doing here? The Jin sect said they resettled the remnants of the sects somewhere they wouldn’t make trouble.”

Wen Qing pressed her lips together, then couldn’t help herself and snarled, “If you call hard labor camps where everyone dies ‘resettled’ – they took away my baby brother! They took me to another city, I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t have a choice and when I returned…my brother’s as soft as yours – they’re going to kill him!”

Nie Mingjue’s scowl deepened, and his eyes flickered over to Nie Huaisang, the words ‘hard labor’ clearly ringing through his mind and struggling with his deep and abiding hatred for the Wen sect, the memories of Nie Huaisang being snatched away from him and sent to an indoctrination camp to be used as live bait. The very reminder of it made his face black in anger. 

Nie Huaisang looked between the two of them and covered his face with a fan. “Dage,” he said, and his voice helped break through the haze of anger. “Maybe we should – check?”

It’s not like we trust the Jins, given the way they want to be the next Wens, he meant, and maybe there’s a little bit of Isn’t our sect’s guiding principle to stamp out evil wherever it’s encountered, human or not?

2

“Sect Leader Nie, I demand an explanation!” Jin Guangshan shouted. “You cannot barge into my territory, threaten my sect’s disciples, take away the prisoners won at war –”

“I’m not so blind as to tell the difference between captivity and torture unto death,” Nie Mingjue snarled in return, not even slightly moved. “Not only did I take the prisoners from Qiongqi Path, I demand you turn over every other one you have, no matter where –”

“Those were legitimately captured prisoners of war! We took them instead of spoils –”

“If the allocation of every penny matters so much to you, you may have the spoils seized by my Nie sect in exchange,” Nie Mingjue said, flicking his sleeve disdainfully. It couldn’t be more obvious what his implication was: that the Jin sect, despite all its riches, cared more for money than for honor.

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s most unlike you to get up in arms defending Wens, Sect Leader Nie; wasn’t it just yesterday that you called them all Wen-dogs and sought their utter destruction?”

Nie Mingjue sneered at him, but he continued, oily smile spreading on his face like a stain, “It couldn’t be that Sect Leader Nie has changed his implacable mind so quickly – perhaps it is the pressure of war on a man so young…you should take care for your health, make sure you’re not being unduly confused. People in your family die so very young, after all.”

“Enough nonsense,” Nie Mingjue said, eyes very nearly red in anger. “If my mind is so unclear, why did you choose to follow me during battle? When Wen Ruohan threatened, you dithered and delayed, and when there was no other choice but war, my blade was strong enough for you to hide behind, but when we have peace you rush to the front to claim a position that shouldn’t even exist – no one should be Chief Cultivator, Sect Leader Jin, no sect placing themselves and their own interests above another’s! But if the alternative is you, perhaps I should strive for it after all!”

3

“Is your brother actually going to try to be Chief Cultivator?” Wen Ning asked Nie Huaisang shyly; he was the only Wen currently inside the Unclean Realm, on account of needing heal his injuries. The remainder were all living in a small valley not far away where Nie sect cultivators kept a close watch.

Nie Mingjue hated injustice above all else, even Wens, but only by the smallest margin; in their new homes they were given food and water and medicine, but not freedom. Too many cultivators, male or female, had hidden themselves among the helpless to launch sneak attacks and assassinations; even children could carry a knife and swear to avenge their fallen parents.

Those like Wen Qing were watched most of all – she led one of the Supervision Offices that everyone had so hated, and she did nothing to stop them; she was indifferent to evil, and to Nie Mingjue that was very nearly the same as evil. It was only that the war had been officially ended that held back his hand; if they had still been at war, he would have executed her without so much as blinking an eye.

Still, Wen Qing had told Wen Ning that she was pleased with their current situation. A true prisoner of war camp, however strict, meant that they would be kept safe from all those who sought personal revenge, and Wen Ning couldn’t help but agree that the trade was worthwhile. The Jin had all but sold opportunities to those who wanted to get in a kick at their fallen bodies, just to say they’d been involved in the Sunshot Campaign; the Nie sect had those types of people, too, glaring and hateful, but the Sect Leader’s military discipline made them too afraid to do anything more than raise angry voices – and what were angry voices, compared to angry hands?

After all, if they’d come even a few shichen later – if Nie Mingjue hadn’t already known where the Wens were being kept, due to his position as sect leader, and been able to fly there on his sword at full speed – it would have been too late for him. Wen Ning didn’t even recall exactly what had happened, but two of them had been beating him and the chief inspector hadn’t stopped them, only told them to be sure to throw his body over the cliff when they were done with him…

“No, of course not,” Nie Huaisang said, pretending to be busy by his side. He had no skill at medicine, but it was a way to spend his time that his brother approved of and wouldn’t interrupt, so he came as often as he could. “He hates the idea, thinks it’s rotten to the core – like we’re all a bunch of sheep, needing a shepherd. No, he’s just saying it to annoy and distract Jin Guangshan. Besides, imagine if they made the position inheritable; that would make me the next one, and wouldn’t that be terrible for everyone?”

4

“The children young enough not to remember may join the Nie sect as guest disciples, if they wish,” Nie Mingjue said, his tone brooking no argument. “The adults will remain as they are.”

Wen Qing crossed her arms. “There aren’t many cultivators left among us, and it’s fine for all of those - they’d be happy to take up a life farming,” she said. “But those of us who are already on the path of cultivation should not be stymied –”

“You mean your brother, Wen Ning.” Nie Mingjue had some natural sympathy for her position, due to having his own weak-willed younger brother, but not very much. “No. In the end, he’s a Wen; we will not raise snakes to bite us later.”

“What wrong can you put on my brother’s shoulders beyond his surname?” she challenged. “What evil does he have?”

“Indifference to evil –”

“He was hardly indifferent!” she snapped, pushed beyond her limits. “I told him to do nothing, me, and yet he wouldn’t listen, time and time again. He kept Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng hidden after the destruction of the Lotus Pier, smuggled the latter out, even carried him out on his own back, and if that wasn’t enough, he collected what he could of the Jiang masters’ ashes for them – later, when Wei Wuxian asked me for help, he even –!”

She suddenly seemed to realize she’d said too much and shut her mouth.

Nie Mingjue looked at her thoughtfully. “You’ve already said this much,” he said. “There’s no point in stopping now. What did Wei Wuxian ask you to do?”

5

“Shh, don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Nie Huaisang said, gesturing for Wen Ning to join him in the closet where he was hiding.

Wen Ning, still a little uncomfortable in his new Nie robes, confusedly obeyed, even though he was still sweating from saber practice – he’d had to start over, alongside the children, but to his surprise he’d found that the straightforward brutality of the saber suited some secret resentful part hidden inside of him that wanted nothing more than to chop up everything he saw. “W-what’s going on? Why are we h-hiding? We’re in the Unclean Realm. What can harm us here?”

“Feelings,” Nie Huaisang said. “They’re the worst. My poor brother has to sit out there and listen to it directly, too – the burdens of being Sect Leader. I’m glad it’s not me.”

Wen Ning blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Are Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi still fighting?”

“No, they’ve moved on to crying.”

“They were crying while they were fighting.”

“Yes, well, now they’ve moved to the just crying stage. There’s been lots of hugging, too; they stop for half a breath and then set each other off again, it’s awful. Can’t they be all manly and stoic like we Nie?”

Wen Ning gave Nie Huaisang a doubtful look.

“Well, me excluded, of course,” Nie Huaisang said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “And anyway, even I only like crying when it’s going to get me something. Or out of something!”

Wen Ning suddenly felt as if he understood much more about his new Sect Leader’s endless frustrations with his younger brother. “But why are you hiding?” he asked.  

“I have a reputation of avoiding work to maintain,” Nie Huaisang said, totally puzzlingly, but a few moments later there was a knock at the closet door.

“Huaisang, I know you’re in there. Get out of there and have an emergency,” Sect Leader Nie said. “Anything, as long as it requires my personal attention, and have it happen as soon as their sister, the young madam Jin, arrives – that’ll just set them all off again, especially as she’s pregnant.” A pause. “Do you think I can order Wen Qing to handle this as part of the terms of her parole?”

[eveningstar1516]

Rise Of The Demon King ~ Chapter 3

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so…, Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

“It seems you 7 forgot that you don’t dictate what goes on here. You are but a guest to the Devildom and the Sins, my subjects. MAKE NO MISTAKE! I AM YOUR KING AND YOU LOT ARE NOTHING!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3 - Things Never Seem To Go Y/N's Way Huh? (1404 words)

“It seems you 7 forgot that you don’t dictate what goes on here. You are but a guest to the Devildom and the Sins, my subjects. MAKE NO MISTAKE! I AM YOUR KING AND YOU LOT ARE NOTHING!” The brothers jumped in front of me to try and shield me from the king while Asmo and Barbatos tried to pull me back to get me out of the room. Diavolo jumped in front of the king trying to stop his father.

“Father stop! Please! There isn’t a need for this! Y/N is harmless to the Devildom and the Lords! They are the only human that accepted us for what we are, they even BOWED down to YOU and not because of your status but because they accepted you as their king! Can you not see that this is a step in the right direction and that everything you’re doing undoes all that we’ve worked towards?”

“What YOU’VE worked towards. I am not interested in inter-realm relationships. It seems I have been too lax with you boy. I will deal with you once this human has been eradicated.”

The king snapped his fingers and purple chains started to wrap themselves around me. I felt my energy leave my body like the chains were siphoning it. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was Diavolo kneeling before his father and pleading for my life as the others in the room followed suit then, black.

Sometime Later…

I woke up to the feeling of a cold hard floor. Snapping awake I felt a sharp pain in my right foot. Looking down I realized that my ankle had been chained to the wall. I was put into a cell that looked to be somewhere underneath the palace. Taking some deep breaths I curled up into a ball reaching out trying to feel for the connection in my pacts only to feel an immense sharp pain in my brain.

“These cells are enchanted to nullify magic, pacts included.”

The king spoke while entering and I steeled myself as I stood with as much strength as I could muster while glaring at him as fiercely as I could.

“You have made quite the commotion for a mere mortal haven’t you?” He started looking at me with a sharp look in his eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face as he continued.

“To think a mere mortal of a human was able to sway the hearts of my 9 most powerful and coldhearted demons, my son included, although he always had a soft spot for the weak. You should count yourself lucky human, my son, as well as the Lords, all pleaded for your life. I have to say, I was quite disgusted by their behaviour.” He snarled at me with the most hateful expression I’ve ever seen in a demon. I tried my hardest not to quiver in front of him as I locked my gaze on him. All that time spent with Lucifer paid off as I schooled my expression into the hardest one I could muster in these circumstances.

“You’re quite lucky to have this many demons care about you. Seeing as how my son had just gotten me back, I have decided to humour him and hold a public trial deciding your fate tomorrow. If I am going to make an example of how demons should be treating humans, I might as well make it public so that all of Devildom can see that you mortals will never be able to hold such power over us, wouldn’t you say?”

He asked his question with such a disturbing smile showing off his fangs trying to get a rise out of me. On the inside I was having a full-blown panic attack, on the outside, however, I just continued to stare at him, not dignifying him with a response.

“Ah well, I didn’t really expect you to answer that. Although, before we go through with this trial, you will have to dissolve your pacts and if you won’t I will dissolve them by force.”

At this, I burst out laughing. Tears came to my eyes as I grabbed my stomach trying to stay upright while I addressed the king between laughing breaths.

“Hahaha! You think dissolving my pacts is the way to go?! News flash! The pacts are the only reason the brothers haven’t attacked you or tried to break me out! They are the only thing keeping them in line, take that away and they will have nothing to anchor them. Diavolo may have pacted with Lucifer but we both know they would side together to get me out and even if Dia were to try to stop him, he would fight it with his brothers. You’d have a war on your hands.” Smirking, I looked to the so-called “king” to gauge his reaction. Growling dangerously low he replied.

“You think me afraid of Pride and his so-called “family?”

“No, no I don’t, but it would be very hard to fight a one-sided war especially with The Morningstar leading the charge with “your” 9 most powerful demons backing him.”

I turned around and sat on the makeshift bed folding my hands behind my head, I finished speaking with a genuine smile across my face.

“The pacts will be staying and I will make sure the brothers don’t interfere with the trial. Whether you like it or not, my pacts are the one thing keeping them at bay. I’ll see you again tomorrow at the trial?”

He growled and with a scoff turned on his heel and left me alone in my cell. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding, breaking down as the gravity of the situation set in. He was either going to kill me or banish me and not allow any of them to come to see or stay in contact with me. Tears started forming in my eyes as I let them fall silently not having the energy to scream. I don’t know how long I was in there for but by the time someone came to drop off my “dinner” which really only consisted of a piece of bread and some water which I guess is ideal for a prisoner, my tears had completely dried, a rock hard emotionless expression on my face had made itself at home. Ironically, instead of praying to God to help me, I found myself thinking of Diavolo and my fellow demons, wishing I could see even just one of them. I thought about the desserts Barb and I never crossed off of our to-bake list. Poison Cherry Tarts were next on the list. The pranks Dia and I have yet to pull off. We were supposed to do a lyric prank on the boys. The places I have yet to nap with Belphie. We were going to build a treehouse with Beel and sleep in there. I thought about Asmo and his make up line and how he wouldn’t be able to ask me to help him test them out anymore. Satan's birthday is coming up. I have a memory book I made for him starting from the first day I met him in the council room. A picture and story for every day since I’ve known him. The number of games Levi and I have yet to play. He recently got an escape room game based on the House of Lamentation! The schemes I wouldn’t get to pull off with Mammon. We never even caught a picture of Lucifer caught off guard! My thoughts then drifted off to Lucifer. The firstborn Avatar of the Cardinal Sin of Pride. The Morningstar. My Morningstar. I thought about the late nights we would no longer have. The brief brushing of our fingers. The caresses that we would no longer share. I remembered how he was when I first arrived. He was cold, distant, he wouldn't really give me the time of day. Now we spend late nights together. He anchors me and I like to think that I do the same for him. How will he handle it when I’m gone? Not wanting to stay in my head any longer, I drift off into a dreamless slumber awaiting the day that will ultimately decide not only my fate, but the fate of the demons I’ve grown to call, family.

[goineedsleep]

once again, i have another horrendous idea

-olberic and erhardt are plumbers. they lived in brooklyn, prior to being sucked down a drain and being introduced to a realm of magic

-they make their living there plumbing, but plumbing is a lot different over there. instead of grime and dirt clogging pipes, it's sentient mushrooms and intelligent turtles

-it's the craziest shit to them. like, WHY ARE THEY HIDING IN PIPES INSTEAD OF CREATING THEIR OWN HOUSES

-erhardt and olberic build them little shelters where they congregate most often and it alleviates the problem

-and they start attending to the pipes in the castle

-the fellas there are not the same fellas in the other sewers, but they do accept the little huts olberic and erhardt build them as well

-the prince of the kingdom, a talkative dude named Cyrus, tends to watch them do their work. he's intrigued at the kindness olberic and erhardt show towards these creatures

-they come from a rival kingdom, but they have never been allowed homes in the area. the amount of information spies have gathered from them has drastically decreased in recent months, and it may be due to sympathy for the plumbers

-cyrus and olberic get really dang close throughout olberics time employed at the castle, and they end up talking an insane amount while he works

-erhardt gives up and goes to femboy hooters

-a big ball is announced for a month from when olberic first hears of it

-cyrus is elated at the concept of dancing with others, though not quite happy about why the ball was set up in the first place: to have him find a spouse

-like bro. how about no

-he is a lot more busy too, so he can't talk to olberic as often as he'd like to(how did he manage to fix an entire pipe in such a manner?? cyrus needs to know)

-olberic likes cyrus, but leaves him be. he has better things to do than talk to a weary fool like himself

-erhardt is still at the femboy hooters. he is making some sickening amounts of money there and he is vibing

-cyrus has to attend another meeting for the big ball, and the pressure is really getting to him. boi is a nervous wreck

-he is proposed to by the leader of this rival kingdom, some dude called Darius

-he's like... no

-dude is pissed as fuck, but the meeting goes on. cyrus has a panic attack for the rest of the meeting

-olberic watches the relatively chill groups of little fellas mobilize after a certain fucked-up redhead yells at them for becoming soft

-he tells them that they don't have to listen to a man if he isn't gonna stick around and enforce his policies, and even if he does. they can just say no

-he'll fight with them, for that matter!

-most of them agree. a minority of them are terrified to their bones and proceed with... whatever the plan is anyways

-the day of the ball comes by, and olberic spends it watching tv. he'd talk to erhardt if he weren't working at femboy hooters

-cyrus is nervous as fuck. he sticks to himself, not really caring about talking to the others

-he doesn't have feelings for any of these people anyhow

-olberic... if only he were there. maybe then his father wouldn't have held this stupid party for nothing

-darius KOs cyrus and kidnaps him, convincing the king that his kid ran away

-olberic smells the bullshit from 5 miles away and heads out to investigate

-his friends from the pipes tell him where darius went with cyrus, and olberic dashes to it like a madman

-another dude in there's like "hold the fuck up. i need to kick darius in the nuts too"

-therion and olberic end up co-leading an army

-most of the goombas and koopas fight by his side

-cyrus is repeatedly asked to say yes to darius's proposal. he's like "lol no" every time

-darius was not expecting to get his ass beat and exposed by a plumber(who is also an ex-marine), the ex he'd manipulated and abused who is HELLA SALTY, sentient mushrooms, and intelligent turtles

-olberic and therion only don't kill him so he rots in prison for the rest of his life

-cyrus and olberic make out while therion kicks darius in the nuts repeatedly

and yeah that's it. that's the nightmare i came up with in pure sheer sleep deprivation

i hope this wasn't too shitposty- wait a minute... I am the shitpost

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Mortal Kombat: Return of the dragon king: The Clone’s release.

Summary: Locked away in the Edenian dungeon, Mileena is saved by an unexpected face.

Chapter List.

Chapter List part two.

Mileena felt empty. How long had had she been imprisoned down here? Left to rot and be forgotten?

The cell was dark, the only light coming from the small panel in the cell door that people could stare through and judge her.

When she was first thrown down here and chained, she was manic. She’d screech, tug at the chains, spewing threats and screaming at Kitana until her throat grew hoarse. She didn’t get many visitors. People seemed content to forget about her. Who even knew she was here? She could hear voices from outside. Jade’s proper tone interrogating other prisoners or speaking with the guards. Sindel never came down. Perhaps she was too disgusted.

Kitana occasionally came down and stared at her. Was she staring in pity, in disgust, in hatred? Mileena didn’t care. Kitana could never understand her. She had everything Mileena deserved. A realm that adored her, the love of their father, allies who would fight and die for her, a partner with whom to spend eternity with.

Mileena was supposed to have that. It was her purpose. Her reason for creation was to kill and replace Kitana when the time came.

But, as she sat chained in a cold dungeon where the only pleasure came from the rats she could use to satiate her desire for flesh, her purpose seemed forever out of her reach.

Some days she would allow herself to slip into catatonic states. Losing herself in a violent fantasy of revenge or just staring at the ground with an unblinking stare.

At least they had the decency to feed her. Good to know she wasn’t completely disregarded. Dying of starvation didn’t sound like the pleasant way to end. As much as she felt empty, death would only prolong her suffering in the netherrealm.

As she stared at her empty plate, now adorned with rat blood and bones, she heard the sounds of commotion outside. The sounds of death throes were music to her ears.

Then they went silent, and her cell door opened.

The darkness of the cell made it impossible at first to find who it was. But the pair of Tarkatan blades and a familiar voice made the identity clearer than a new mirror.

“So, this is where you’ve been all this time.”

“Baraka…”

Mileena knew Baraka from her time under Shao Kahn. He was the only person who looked at her face and saw beauty rather than filth. He sliced through the chains that kept her arms bound and he allowed her to support herself on him until she could walk again.

“What are you doing here?”

“We have a new master to serve. One even greater than Shao Kahn.”

That sentence didn’t make sense. Nobody could be stronger than Shao Kahn. Was that her own thoughts? Or just her programming?

———————————————————————————————————

Mileena’s left the dungeon and out into the courtyard where she saw some familiar faces along with a new one that drew her attention.

This new emperor was certainly imposing. His large dragon wings and massive stature that may even dwarf Goro putting her to silence.

His voice was deep, but not as imposing as Shao Kahn.

“This is the woman you spoke of. She will do nicely…”

Mileena looked around. She saw Tanya, four earthrealm warriors with glowing green eyes and glowing cracks along their skin, and a woman dressed in blue-

“KITANA!”

Mileena was ready to lunge at Kitana, make her bleed for disregarding her, leaving her to rot, but she was held back by Baraka.

“Princess, listen! I understand your rage. But you have an important role.”

“And what role is that?”

“Impersonating Kitana.”

Mileena paused, her rage melting away. She would… pretend to be Kitana? Like she was always meant to? She looked to Onaga.

“What does he mean?”

Onaga dismissively waved a hand to Baraka.

“He will explain the details as you return to Outworld. Once I have what I need from Edenia, I will return to my palace in the dragon mountain.”

Mileena nodded.

“As you command, my master.”

That sentence felt wrong out of her mouth, especially when she wasn’t saying it to Shao Kahn.

Mileena was handed a set of fresh clothes. They were black with a light blue, the same colour that Kitana would usually wear. If she were to wear it alongside her veil to obscure her monstrous mouth, she’d be identical.

Mileena was liking this plan already.

———————————————————————————————————

After she put on her new attire, spending some time admiring how she looked in the full length Edenian mirror, Mileena was briefed on the plan as she and Baraka’s hordes made their way back to Outworld. Mileena would impersonate Kitana and lead her armies into a trap, where they would be decimated by Baraka’s forces. With Kitana’s army out if the way, there would be none to stop Emperor Onaga from marching unopposed across Outworld.

After all these years of waiting, harbouring resentment, Mileena would finally be able to achieve one of her purposes.

It was finally time to claim her rightful destiny. 

[gallickingun]

who i am today will love {whoever you are tomorrow} || s.k.

SUMMARY: Sugawara Koushi has managed to get you to fall in love with him once. He will not let a simple case of transient global amnesia keep him from sweeping you off of your feet time and time again, until he has you enraptured once more.

PAIRING: Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: angst. literally just all angst. a little fluff here and there. but mostly angst. some language, a little bit of relationship struggle, but nothing too intense! WORD COUNT: 6k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m not very happy with this, but this is my post for the Haikyuu Headquarters SFW collab centered around the prompt Amnesia! Please check out all of the other rad fics HERE! I haven’t written a full length fic for Sugawara yet, but apparently my first one is going to be Angst City. I hope you all enjoy 💔

Sugawara knew from the moment he saw you that you were going to be the puzzle he was trying to put together for the rest of his days.

He would spend moment after moment trying to piece together the parts of you that created this wonderful masterpiece, the prettiest picture he could never have even imagined would grace his life. He is careful with your sharp edges, the pieces of you that have been forged by years of difficult situations you have had to claw yourself out of.

There were pieces of you that fit into place easily, of course. The softest sides of you which you bared to him from the day you met him. Your smile, the color of your eyes, the way your cheeks lift when you grin. He knows these parts by heart, has run his fingertips over them countless times, until he has memorized the exact curve of them, until he can put them into place without looking.

You are like hieroglyphs from a long-lost language, something incomprehensible if only because you are so cryptically enticing, hiding pieces of yourself for him to discover throughout the years that you develop your friendship and eventual love.

There are days where Sugawara could spend every waking moment between the blinks of his pale lashes purely studying you, irises narrowed as he watches the way your body moves, the way your hands tense at your sides. He notices the quirk of your lips and the curl of your toes when you get anxious, how you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, and how your forehead wrinkles. At times, he breaks himself away from his study long enough to press a warm, gentle kiss to the crinkled skin of your forehead, coaxing you from the prison of your mind, begging you to relax under his ministration. You will reach out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as timidly as you can within your knuckles, and he feels your skin go lax.

When he pulls away to gaze down into the beautiful shade of your irises, Sugawara feels safe, like there is a nestled home tucked away in your pupils that he can retreat to when life becomes too much, too overwhelming. His heart patters within his chest and he knows that if you were to peel his shirt away, you’d find a bruise in the shape of the organ outlined in bright purple and blue on his porcelain skin, like a small galaxy of pain that represents the intensity of his love for you.

Koushi’s hands reach for you in the dead of night, his head resting on your shoulder so he can breathe in your familiarity, and the closeness of you settles in on him as a weighted blanket would. Your presence alone calms him, and the feel of your skin beneath the pads of his fingers only adds to the reverie. His fingerprints dance underneath the thin fabric of his tee shirt that is clad on your body, your body second nature to his touch, and he can map out your ribs and hips with ease. He kisses your shoulder and his eyelashes flutter shut, the awareness of your proximity making him feel safe.

Every day is a new day to find a new piece of your beautiful puzzle, Sugawara thinks as he drifts off into the realm of unconsciousness. And he cannot wait to wake up to discover the next, most unique piece in the morning.

Only, when his eyes peel back as the sun rises the next morning, his perfect puzzle has been ruined, torn apart and left for scraps, and now there is a piece missing.

“Wh-Who are you?” Your voice is a stutter, eyes bright and wild, feral in the worst way. You cower away from him, holding yourself together as though you might shatter if you breath a moment longer, “Why are you in my bed?”

Sugawara laughs at first, if only because he cannot believe that this is something more than a prank at best. He reaches for you, fingertips barely grazing the hem of your shirt sleeve as you skitter away from him. Your body falters as you fall from the bed, and the last thing he sees before you plummet to the floor is the way your irises are engulfed by your pupils until your orbs look inked out with darkness, a void quality to them that makes his heart wrench within his chest.

“Love, c’mon,” Sugawara crawls across the mattress so he can get a look at you, still clinging desperately to the idea that this is a sick joke that you are playing on him – where are the hidden cameras? What will Daichi and Asahi think of this when you send them the video?

Your jawline is trembling, your teeth clenched together so tightly that the muscles are quivering, and you shake your head, “I-I don’t know you, wh-who are you?”

Koushi clambers from the bed to stand near you, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down where you are still a mess of limbs on the floor, a blanket you found discarded beside the bed wrapped around your partially bare body. He shakes his head, his chin wobbling as reality sets in, “Sweetheart, this isn’t funny. Cut the crap. What’s going on?”

When you shout, voice in a frenzy because you do not recognize the man loitering over you like a thundercloud, Sugawara feels lightning strike his heart and shatter it into a thousand pieces. Shards of emotion lodge into his chest as you speak next, “Please d-don’t hurt me!”

He was unaware to the tears building up behind his lids until he feels the wetness of a saltine droplet drip down his cheek, collecting on his jaw before dripping onto the floor. Sugawara’s hands shudder and he reaches down for you, “I think we need to take you to the hospital.”

“I-I’m not going anywhere with you,” you are biting in your tone, a resonance to the fiery personality you have shown him all your natural born life.

You have known him since you were a child, infatuated with him since you were teenagers, encapsulated in love with him once you turned twenty-two, and now you have been married for three wonderful years.

And yet, the frightened look in your eyes, the tears that make your irises glassy, tells him that there may be no coming back from this, that he cannot rely on the years before this very moment to build back what seems to have broken. Sugawara’s hands shake and you can tell, but that does not keep your breath from shuddering in your lungs, busting open your teeth as you release the pent-up oxygen.

“Please, love,” Sugawara’s voice is broken, each syllable grating against his esophagus as he forces them through his throat, but you cannot notice past your own panic, “let’s just get in the car, okay?”

Your body warms at the sound of the pet name, but you cannot place the fondness he has for you with the devoid space in your heart, although there is a quiet voice in the back of your mind telling you that he cares for you, and you for him. Even still, you have been birthed into this place as a confused creature, someone who does not know their purpose or intentions, and the only thing on your one-track mind is to find some answers to the intimidating list of questions percolating in your subconscious.

You know that he will not rest until you listen, and so the fight or flight response in your mind begins to flare until you tame it, stoking the fire down to embers as you rise to your feet. You grit your teeth and shake your head, signaling your defiance, but stumble towards the car nonetheless. You are not sure just how you knew where to go, like a blueprint has been embedded within your mind, but somehow you find your way despite the confusion clouding your thoughts like a raging storm.

Usually, Sugawara would reach across the console and buckle you into the front seat. Only now, as you shy away from his hand that reaches for your elbow, flinching when he gets too close, he realizes that so many of his second-nature tasks will have to be stubbed to a halt until you remember that you are a piece of his heart. He recoils from you, drawing his wrist back against his ribs, as if capturing himself, “It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

You should hear the sincerity in his voice, but everything is a lie to you, even his kindness. Your body trembles as you pull the belt across your body, securing it into the latch with a gentle sound. Sugawara watches you closely, trying urgently not to seem like he is hovering over you, but the mission to keep you safe is still rooted firmly in his spine and he will not waver from it, even as you sit before him unknowing to all of the times he has done this very simple action for you.

There is this insatiable desire that sits in Sugawara’s gut, bubbling beneath the surface like a grotesque acid, tumultuous enough that he is steadily reminded of it’s presence, of it’s hungering need to keep you safe and happy, to keep you reliant on him. In the smallest of ways, such as holding your hand as you climb into the car, or buckling your belt for you, it makes him feel important, necessary. He has spent too much of his life feeling like he has been sidelined to warrant other’s have their moment to shine, and you allow him to stand center stage every day, even if the platform is only your heart.

It makes you feel special and it makes him feel strong, like a protective alpha animal. Your generous reliance on him allows his pride to swell, to balloon until his chest is held high and his chin is tilted upward. It may seem silly from the outside, but the way his torso sinks into a concave position as you shy away from him creates a void cavity in his chest that Sugawara is sure nothing else will ever fill.

He has never seen you resemble a frightened animal before, like you were too afraid he would throw you into a cage given your pensive stare and shaking limbs. Sugawara could not hunt you even if he wanted to, and the idea that you believe this is his intent makes a fresh wave of tears well up behind his lids, the heat of it all giving his face a dark flush, easy to see against his pale skin.

As you close your door, Sugawara thinks of how Daichi would handle this. He stalks from one side of the car to the other, the gears of his mind turning so loudly that he startles. A thick gulp rakes against his throat, making his neck bob as he imagines the advice Sawamura might give him in a time like this.

Daichi would not falter, would not crumble. No, the captain would not have tears in his eyes and fear in his heart, rather he would bolster his shoulders and steady his feet, holding his chin high as he did whatever needed to be done to ensure that you were taken care of. And so, Sugawara tightens the chains around his heart that have your name engraved upon them, guaranteeing the organ will not float away or sink down until there is a hole in the floor of the car.

Your newfound independence mocks him, even as you take charge in the hospital and tell the front desk nurse exactly how you are feeling. How can you be so articulate when you are so far gone from the woman he knew just the night prior? Have you truly turned into someone else? Will you ever love him the same as before?

Doubt digs into the base of his shoulders and rips his dark crows wings free. The appendages stand slaughtered at the ground, his eyes unable to waver as the doctor takes a pacing step back and forth at your bedside while he reads your charts. The part of Koushi that longs to keep you safe mocks him as his wings lay crumpled beneath his amber irises, pupils dilating to try and focus on the metaphor that has manifested in front of him in his delirious state.

He reaches out and his fingertips scrape linoleum where he expects to find wings, and he realizes that he truly is a clipped little thing, fallen to the ground with nowhere to go, no way to fly.

“It is a rare form of amnesia,” the doctor’s words reverberate in his mind relentlessly once they are spoken aloud for the first time, “she has forgotten everything prior to approximately fourteen hours ago.”

And oh, Sugawara has never wished more to be able to fly.

You are surprised as ever when he looks up at you, broken irises seeking you for answers, “Would you like to go home with me? Or I can always drop you off at your mother’s.”

The room goes quiet, and Sugawara swears he could hear a feather drift to the floor.

Your voice is trembling when you answer, “I want to go home…with you.”

It would seem the glittering diamond on your left hand, in tandem with the records the hospital has found regarding you and Sugawara Koushi, has given you some semblance of relief. At least enough to be willing to ride in the car with him again, to find solace in the home you two have built.

You toy with the ring as Sugawara looks at you with his jaw unhinged slightly, just enough for you to see the pink muscle of his tongue twitching on the bed of his mouth. You giggle, the first time he’s heard you laugh since this whole escapade began, and your eyes crinkle at the sides just how he remembered, “Well, the house is half mine, is it not?”

Sugawara cracks a smile and stands to his feet, shoulders creaking as he feels his barely-there wings begin to molt into something new. Not the same, no he will never be the same, not after this, but possibly still a semblance of the old thing, a reminder that maybe life can return to what it once was.

And so, he walks you to the car, hand hovering at the base of your spine, but not touching; he does not want to push away the small amount of progress that has been made in such a short amount of time. He treats you like a glass box, opening the door and shadowing you as you climb into the front seat. You feel the ghost of his fingertips, a heat along your spine, and you do not flinch, not this time.

“I’ll order dinner,” he says when the door has shut behind the both of you. “Do you want from that dumpling place you li-”

The words reverberate in the small space of your living room, a recollection of what once was casual between the two of you that is now something far-off and forgotten. You swallow thickly, your throat bobbing as you look away from him so you don’t have to face the fallen expression on his face when he realizes that he will have to rework his entire existence around your new condition.

Your heart freezes, clogging up your lungs and making it harder to breathe. Sugawara shrugs off his jacket and slips on his house shoes, forcing himself to move toward you, “There is this dumpling place I think you’ll like. Want to try it for dinner? I doubt either of us feel like cooking.”

Licking your lips, you turn to find him quite close to you, his hands hovering by his side. You wonder if he aches to touch you, if his fingers burn with the desire to reach forward and brush your hair away from your face. You take a short breath, collecting yourself before glancing up into his amber irises, warmth seeping from them directly into your bones through what feels like osmosis.

“Y-Yeah,” your voice catches in your throat once you take him all in. “That sounds, um, that sounds nice.”

Your body screams at you to either run away or hold him closer, and you’re not sure which part to listen to. You grit your teeth to bring yourself some clarity in the form of pain, but it only serves to make your head dizzier.

Sugawara Koushi is handsome, borderline pretty, and you are enraptured by the sight of him. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and the irrational side of your brain wants to succumb to the heat, to be engulfed by the flames. Instead, you tuck your arms around your midsection and pray for patience, “I’m going to go take a shower, Sugawara. If that’s okay?”

He winces at the sound of his formal name coming through your teeth, turning his head so he doesn’t show you the dismay that tugs on his features. He chuckles, but the sound is forced, “Of course, the bathroom is, uh, just through the bedroom and on the right. Towels are in the closet on the left.”

“Th-Thank you,” you nod your head, stepping past him to walk toward the bedroom. Out of what must be pure instinct, you reach forward and rest your hands on his hips to guide him away from your path.

Simultaneously, you both breathe in sharply, the oxygen piercing your lungs like a dagger.

Your eyes meet amber and for a half-second, you are overwhelmed at his closeness. You breathe in the scent of his cologne and shampoo and it brings you back to some place that was previously tucked far away in your mind. You wrap your fingers around his shirt, if only to push him away.

Before Sugawara can ask you what is going on, you have blown past him towards the bedroom, the door closed and locked behind you.

You press your back into the door, relishing in the coolness of the surface, praying that it will help to bring your mind back down to this realm from where it is floating somewhere between this universe and the next. You cannot make sense of any one stream of consciousness, begging every thread of yourself to return to the nucleus so you might take a moment to collect all of your thoughts and press them back into your head.

Clambering forward on your knees, you start the bath water, flipping the level to turn on the shower. Your body is so disconnected from your brain that you almost step into the tub fully clothed, but seeing your sock clad foot makes you pause before you soak your clothes. You swallow your inhibitions, trying to keep the tears locked behind your lids, and step out of your undergarments.

You have barely stepped underneath the steaming water before you break down into sobs and tears. You crumble to the bottom of the tub, your arms around your knees, your head tucked beneath your biceps, and you release every pent-up moment from the day in the form of salty tears dripping down your cheeks to mix with the streams of clean water from the showerhead above.

“Is this my life now?” you whimper to no one in particular, your voice muffled by your forearm. You sniffle and rub at your face, although it doesn’t much matter, given the water running down it in rivulets to hide your tears. You look at your palms, stretching your fingers in front of your face, curious if you’ve always looked like this, or if there was something different from when you woke up this morning.

The knowledge that you have no knowledge of who you were before this morning makes a fresh wave of nausea and tears roll through your body, making your spine shudder as you cry into your own cocoon of a body. A sob tears through your shoulders, and you feel like your eyes might fall out of your skull, they’re throbbing so intensely. You press the heels of your hands into your sockets until you see a full galaxy of inky planets and stars behind your lids. The pain was what you were hoping would bring you back to the present, merely multiplies the devastating hole in your chest.

This is not the first time you find yourself curled up in the bottom of the shower, your head leant against the tile wall as the water runs from searing to freezing while you contemplate your entire life existence.

Of course, Sugawara has been nothing but accommodating during this strange period of time. He has moved his items to the spare bedroom, even though most nights he favors the couch, given he finds it tough to fall asleep on his own. You have woken in the middle of the night to terrible dreams only to find the television playing a show that is trying to sell a rare set of jewelry or a stellar non-stick frying pan.

There is one night, a few months after your first visit to the hospital, when you gather enough confidence to carefully step into the living room and turn off the television. Sugawara stirs at the sudden change in light, his eyes barely cracking open, irises hardly peeking from behind his lids, but he is still able to spot you from where you are stood in front of him. He sits up as best he can, forcing his stiff body to straighten when he makes limited eye contact with you.

“H-Hey,” his voice is gruff, as if it were stuck in his throat, and you can’t help the flush of embarrassment that makes your cheeks burn at the sound. “What are you doing awake?”

You run your palm along the back of your neck, rubbing at your vertebrae anxiously, unable to keep your gaze narrowed in on him when he’s making you feel this way. Your toes curl in on one another and your socks find friction against the carpet, “Just another nightmare.”

Sugawara is at full attention now, the warmth in his irises tripling at your small voice and nervous posture. He sits so he is facing you, his palms on his knees, fingertips itching at the hem of his shorts to keep himself from reaching out to take you by the hands. He licks his lips and looks upward to try and make eye contact with you to no avail, your pretty orbs still hidden from him as you look away, “You’ve been having a lot of those lately, haven’t you?”

There is a beat of silence that passes between you before he adds, “I’ve been hearing your screams.”

This is all that it takes to crumble what little resolve is left cementing your heart together. You crumble to your knees, your hands covering your face so you do not bare your pitiful, glassy eyes to him. Sugawara is quick to react, catching you before your knees can find the carpet, pulling you close to cushion your fall. You do not care that you cannot remember what his hold felt like before you lost your memories, all that matters is how safe you feel now.

He is like an anchor to your flighty soul, keeping you bound tightly to this earthly plane instead of allowing you to float away to whatever universe your subconscious has been visiting since the day your whole world was rearranged. You cling to his shirt, your fists bunching up the fabric of his tee when you lean in closer until your temple is pressed to his neck.

“It’s okay, honey,” Sugawara’s voice is warm, like honey, and you wonder if it might seep into the cracks of your broken soul and seal you back together, “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

For a moment, you pretend that this is what you are used to. You allow your mind to believe that this is your normal, that this has how things have always been. And, in some sadistic, twisted way, you might be right. Maybe before you forgot what he smelled like and how he kissed, this was how he held you – firm and secure, sturdy as a rock and kind as a beam of sunshine. Your heart hammers in your ribs and you can’t stop the tears from flowing, from the feel of both of your hearts breaking in the small space between your bodies.

You wonder if his chest feels as tight as yours, as if your ribs are the only thing keeping your hearts from bursting directly out of your skin. The beating is loud, thunderous in your ears as you cry into his shoulder, staining his shirt dark with your tears. You sob and snot and cough, but never once does he judge you or push you away. All you hear is the gentle hush of his voice in your ear, reminding you that he is here, reminding you that everything will eventually be okay.

And for a split second, you believe him.

And without inhibition, you allow your heart to speak, your throat but a conduit for the emotions bubbling within your belly like lava.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, your chest splitting open as the lava sprays through your teeth, burning your mouth to ash, but somehow you still speak, “please, Koushi, I-I think- I think I need you.”

When you look up at him, the absolute adoration reflected back to you in shades of tawny brown, dark and light swirling within his irises until it is overwhelming you like a storm cloud. You suck in a deep breath and dive back in, tucking your head underneath his chin and wrapping your arms around his shoulders until you are conjoined, unsure of where he ends and you begin as you become a mess of limbs on the sofa.

“I’m right here,” he repeats in a whisper against the crown of your head, holding you around the waist and beneath the thighs as he stands with you still in his arms. You latch onto him tighter, curled around him like a frightened animal, and your place against his neck makes it so you cannot see the way his lips stretch into a smile.

This has been what he has craved for the past few months – a genuine closeness that you chose; you choosing him. Sugawara cradles your body as tightly as he can without hurting you, walking towards your bedroom with careful steps. Your toes curl as he settles back against the mattress, slowly guiding your body down with him so you are both laid out horizontally on the bed, your knees dug tightly into his sides and your fingertips still clutching his shoulders relentlessly.

Sugawara runs his fingers through your hair, ruffling your tresses in a soothing manner as his chest begins to rumble with a melody. Your whole body buzzes as his lips maneuver in the tendrils of your hair surrounding your face, mouth pressing warm kisses to your scalp as the humming grows louder, more confident. Tears are flowing silently down your cheeks, staining your skin and his shirt, but neither of you seem to care, rather paying attention to the way you soak one another in like you have been a person starved for water and this is your first sip after days without drink.

It takes you a few minutes, but his humming in tandem with the ministrations of his hands soothes your mind into a dreamlike state. You release your grip on his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric, if only to give yourself something else to pay attention to other than his searching eyes. Sugawara allows you a moment of exploration before his index finger is crooked underneath your chin, tilting your jaw upward so he can look you directly in the eyes.

“Stop being so hard on yourself,” he murmurs, voice kind despite the circumstances, “you’re still learning, adjusting. It won’t happen overnight.”

“And if it never happens?” Your tone is curt, words biting. You grit your teeth together and the creaking of your molars makes your bones shudder. A wobbling chin gives way to another bout of tears, but you do not falter this time, rather looking him in the eyes than succumbing to the exhausting heave of another sob, “What if I’m never the same? What if I can’t- what if you don’t love this person?”

Sugawara’s hand drifts from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing along the apple of your face, swooping downward to trace your jaw. A gentle smile tugs on the corners of his mouth and you want to scold him for laughing at your pain, but the faraway look in his eyes suggests that he is thinking of another time, possibly one much more simple in nature where you were sitting on his lap just like this, but there was a stream of knowledge, of combined thought, that flowed between the two of you. You knew one another, backwards and forwards and inside out, but now there is a barrier built, one that has kept him from teaching you who you are and from you allowing him to take the chance to do such a thing.

He is kind, something you suspect he has always been, when his mouth unhinges to let his words out of their cage, “Better or worse, angel. And if this is the worst life has to throw at us, then so be it.”

There is a hesitancy in his gaze, but he leans forward to brush a kiss against your cheek despite it, “I would rather go through this with you than be in a picture-perfect situation with anyone else.”

The sight of him in tandem with the brutal, raw honesty of his beautiful words overwhelms you, like a wave crashing along the shore, suffocating the sand. You want to be the beach, to be greeted with his kissing crest each time he chooses to seek you out despite the call to the sea, and it is that thought alone that ignites your need to seek purchase with your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sugawara’s eyes go wide, if only because he does not want you to do this out of desperation or obligation, but out of choice and choice alone.

You can tell that he wants to say something, but before you lose your nerve and before he says something that will make the both of you overanalyze, you have crashed your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

His fingers are hesitant to clutch at your sides, but once he realizes that you are not going to pull away, a familiar desperation sinks into his movements and he has you caught by the waist to anchor you to him. Your thumbs press into the pulse points on either side of his neck, like you were checking to make sure his heart is still beating. Sugawara’s breath stutters and he tilts his head so your chins bump to tear you apart, “Honey, I-”

“Kou,” your voice is quiet, seeking out solace in his silence.

Your tone is exploratory, and the sound of his given name shortened in the way you have said it a dozen times makes his head spin, but you sound awkward when you say it, as if you were taking it for a test drive and it’s not the car you were comfortable driving. You swallow and try again, “K-Kou, I want you to stay here tonight, with me.”

The edges of his thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and for the first time since he pushed his lids back earlier to take you in, he realizes that you’re clad in one of his old college tees. It was one of your favorites, a staple in your sleeping collection, a comforting item you sought out when you were distressed beyond measure. He wonders if your subconscious held on to this thought, and brought you this tattered, worn piece of clothing to give you some semblance of healing in your despondent time of need.

“As you wish,” Sugawara whispers against the bow of your lips, your mouths brushing with every syllable. He smiles, a gentle pecking kiss nestled on the corner of your cheek before he speaks again, “Now, we both need to rest.”

His words are accented by his body curling around you, turned to the side so he can wrap you up in the quilt that has been strewn across the bed in your haste of sleep. Your body is encased in warmth, a mixture of his natural body heat and the cocoon the blanket creates. The two of you tuck into one another as if you were built to be together, your pieces perfectly slotting into the spaces his body creates.

Silence stretches for what feels like hours, nothing but the sound of your beating hearts and quiet breaths to fill the air. You run your thumb along the stretch of his collarbone, gnawing on your lower lip as you work up the courage to speak.

“Go ahead,” his voice is gravelly with the desire to succumb to sleep, muffled from his position of being tucked into you, lips in your hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whisper in fear, unable to recognize even your own voice. You swallow, the heat of tears welling up behind your lids already overwhelming enough without the stumble of your words to accent your anxiety, “And I’m scared I can’t be who you want me to be.”

Sugawara surprises you with a chuckle breathed into your hair, a light, lilting sound making his throat hum, “Oh, angel. You’re my everything, how could you ever be a burden to me?”

“I-I dunno,” you can feel yourself starting to panic, the darkness closing in on you until it’s choking you from the inside out, “Wh-What if I don’t laugh the way I used to? O-Or what if, uh, what if I don’t like the same foods? What if-”

You are hushed by the warmth of his mouth on yours, stealing your frightened, nonsensical words straight from your throat as you gasp against his teeth. A firm palm tilts your head upward, fingertips grazing the curve of your jaw and neck, soothing you with a simple touch. He massages his digits into your shoulder as he pulls away, watching carefully as you chase after him for another display of affection, as if you were searching for even more reassurance.

“Hush now, love,” he settles back into you, circling you in his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin. Your knee presses between his thighs and you find your hands nudging underneath his shirt, seeking out the skin-on-skin contact. Sugawara litters kisses in your hair, almost like he were planting a garden of affection, begging it to grow as he encourages it with kiss after kiss.

You are on the precipice of sleep, your body worn down from your anxious efforts of before, when you hear his next words mumbled into the skin of your neck, barely audible even in the utter silence of your bedroom. The few syllables make your heart press stiffly against your ribcage, begging to be let free, like a caged dove sitting pretty within the confines of your chest.

“And to think,” he whispers, “I get to fall in love with you all over again, every time. How exciting, right?”

You want to laugh, to indulge him in his monologue, but your body is heavy, weighed down from the tears and the pressure of all the time before this that you can remember. Finally, you feel like you are floating, the only thing keeping you tethered to this dimension is the cuff of his arms around your waist, circling you and holding you tight, piecing back together every broken part of your soul.

Sugawara’s breath tickles your ear, and you swear you hear him snore. And you might be making up the last few words that he breathes before he is overwhelmed by unconsciousness-

“I can’t wait to fall in love with whoever you are tomorrow.”

But you pray to whoever is listening that it’s the truth.

-

a/n: wow i wrote most of this while delirious and drinking yoohoo so please don’t come for me if it doesn’t make sense. 

my original plot idea was to have reader have continuous amnesia where she forgets her memories every few years, and sugawara always manages to get her to fall in love with him every single time, but that fic would have been upwards of 20k and i didn’t allot myself enough time to write it, which i’m upset about. maybe i’ll do an extension of this fic sometime, but i just feel like it won’t be as impactful. u g h. alas, here we are. i hope that you enjoyed it! i plan to write more sugawara in the future. and thanks again to the hqhq for putting on this collab! the nsfw one is next -- i have daddy daichi for that one! 💕