#IT’S THE SAME THING I DID TO DRAW BOTH OF HIS MYTH MEMORIES BACK TO BACK

[ridox]

[gguk-n]

Soul's tapestry (Yuki Tsunoda x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people get to experience memories of their soulmates which may lead them to each other. Yuki feels like every new food he tries, still seems familiar.

Y/N was an avid traveller. As soon as she was able to, she had set out to experience new countries, new cultures and their heritage. But there were a few country she visited, even though it was her first time, she felt like she had been there. Most people call it deja vu, but she knew. Her soulmate had been there too. That feel was warm and fuzzy to know she got to share this with her soulmate.

She had been able to sense her soulmate's memories from a young age. She couldn't really see them as clearly and her family told her it was because they would grow vivid as the time of her meeting would draw close. It excited her, one of the main catalyst for her little travelling. She hadn't realised than but her soulmate was a bit of globe trotter, she thought. She hoped that even he would be able to feel her presence in her memories, so she made sure to try every new cuisine there was to offer.

Yuki Tsunoda was a Formula One driver, which meant he barely got to live at home, having left in his early years. But there was one thing that kept him company, it was his soulmate's memories. He found comfort in food since a lot of those gave him a warm feeling. He would smile to himself when the food tasted familiar even though it was his first time. That was where his innate desire to cook for people began. He wanted to cook delicious food for the people he loved, especially his soulmate.

He noticed how some places, when he would revisit them during the next race year had a familiarity to it. He could feel his soulmate's memory of enjoying her time there. He had began to hope to run into her some day and be able to share in all these experiences.

From the start of 2024, all these memories had become vivid for the both of them. They could see their soulmate in different countries; they didn't know what they did but they got to see each country through their eyes.

It was the Japanese grand prix and Yuki hadn't been home in a really long time, especially during the cherry blossom season. On his flight to Japan, he saw a very vivid memory of his soulmate stood in a cherry blossom garden with the petals rustling and falling from the wind. He felt his breath hitch, there were butterflies in his stomach. Was it time? Was he really going to meet his soulmate in a few days?

Y/N had been wanting to see Japan during the cherry blossom season for years now. And now that she was here, she felt tears in her eyes as she watched the beautiful trees in bloom and the people walking around with their soulmate. She hoped to one day share this with him. She had a vivid memory of a race track. She wasn't sure that there was a race, she didn't keep up with sports but maybe her soulmate was here for that. She wondered if she should try to find it or him.

Like clockwork, fate was working it's magic. Y/N was at the cherry blossoms for the last day of bloom before they would wither away. She tried to take as many pictures as possible to remember this moment. And as she was clicking a picture, her camera landed on a man, in middle looking around and searching for something. She slowly put her camera down and looked him, frantically scanning the area until their eyes met. That familiar feeling was back. Like they'd know each other their whole life. Without even knowing, she started walking towards him. Right now, they both stood in front of each other with the petals falling. "I guess the myth is true" Yuki said holding the cherry blossom petal in his hand. There was saying, if you caught the cherry blossom petal than whatever you wished for would come true. "What did you wish for?" Y/N asked. "A lot of things. But the most important one just came true" Yuki said. "I guess we both wished for the same thing than" she smiled at him. "I'm Yuki Tsunoda" he smiled holding his hand. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N" she said shaking his.

[noelledeltarune]

raises hand. i'd like to hear about your miscellaneous headcanons :]

YAYYY ok :-] all of these are unrelated 🔥💯

i know that everyone has their own specific headcanons for who their starters are but i have always liked the idea of them having been given their haxorus as an axew as their first pokemon. i totally understand why people think of it as being ingo's with the whole mold breaker earthquake thing but especially with the whole heroes of legend and original dragon thing i think it's customary / traditional for people in unova to give children who are setting off on their journeys together a dragon to raise together. like as a reminder not to be too consumed with your goals that you lose the people who matter to you. or something. works out because i imagine dragons are typically prideful and kind of finicky to raise by nature. so making it a 2 person job is easier on all parties LMAO (their haxorus is jolly by nature so maybe less so but. yknow)

i also personally think that emmet really likes to cook. completely unrelated and i don't know why i think so but to me his love of battling translates a little as him being a guy who cares about his health LOL. he wants his team to be in good shape, so he should put in that effort too! because it's something he's very passionate about. and this applies to exercise but also food to me. it's an easy way to take care of yourself and it's nice to share food with people (<- necessary intervention to avoid ingo's 7th fast food chain burger in 4 days). + i imagine that pokemon who do a lot of battling like his do would need to eat a lot anyways, it's probably cheaper to make your own pokemon food than to buy as much as he'd need in bulk. maybe he got into making it for his team when he was younger and that translated into him learning to cook because he's already making something edible anyways LMAO, might as well do the same for himself

i think ingo likes to draw. no real reason for this one either he just strikes me as The Absentminded Doodler. never really considered himself to be super passionate about art but he is a dedicated hobbyist. in my head when they were kids ingo and emmet's parents tried to get emmet into journaling because he wasn't much of a talker and they figured it'd be an easier way to express himself. he did not really care for it and ingo took it up instead. lots of paper for writing and doodling. i imagine he sort of got out of journaling as an adult/older teen but got back into both writing and drawing more when he was in hisui. we know he's a man who appreciates physical reminders of things. less ephemeral than memories 🔥💯

i also like the headcanon that uxie is the one who stole his memories rather than it just being a result of The Dreaded SpaceTime Travel. like i know it doesn't actually make sense because how would he have possibly met uxie given the requirement of having god's blessing in your cell phone. but. OH MY GOD! IN COMES CANALAVE LIBRARY'S "A HORRIFIC MYTH" WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!!!!!!!

^ i just like it. it's also the one way i will excuse the trope of zoroark transforming into emmet because the pokemon guarding uxie's cave is. an alpha zoroark. so maybe that thing has some special powers relating to the memories it steals like it can look into them to more effectively scare people away from it or whatever. because like. hisuian zoroark can't actually read minds. LMAO. but i'll accept it specifically for ingo through this

i am known to be an enjoyer of the headcanon that emmet is a pokemon breeder as a hobby. but specifically NOT just with joltik. i think he met lenora when he was younger when she helped him revive his archen from a fossil and he works with her sometimes now as a breeder aiding in pokemon restoration. i also like to ignore the fact this would likely require a lot of dedicated training and education and time on top of his job because i can do whatever i want forever. i think that elesa's tynamo is the anime was a gift from him :-]

on a slightly related note i also think that emmet and burgh are underrated "characters who have never interacted but i think they'd be friends" guys. in my head even ingo likes to draw he's not really much of an art nerd. but i think emmet kind of is LOL. (<- queen of taking that one line where he talks about wanting to go to galar to see the sirfetch'd vs escavalier painting too far). i think they'd be bug buddies. they're both a little silly in a way that i think would be very compatible and i like imagining them as friends. 2 guys who love looking at pictures of bugs and also are professional pokemon battlers. match made in heaven 🔥💯 slightly related because burgh is the one character i think emmet actually would give a joltik to. gave him a shiny baby spider at one of his art shows and their friendship was cemented when a couple of weeks later he showed up on the doubles line with a professionally trained shiny galvantula :-]

i flip flop 100000x per day over their pokemon but specifically when it comes to the haxorus mold breaker thing i want to bring up how abilities on the battle subway are randomized. meaning that, to me specifically, it is not actually an act of malice 100% of the time. i KNOW that it was introduced in gen 6 but i think that mold breaker earthquake is more often a FUCK I FORGOT TO USE THE ABILITY CAPSULE AGAIN AFTER THE SINGLES LINE than a HA HA HA. FUCK YOU, TEAMMATE! ingo is also a guy who likes a thrilling battle and likes to win. if i wasn't as fond of the idea that their starter was axew i'd say it's a brought the wrong haxorus to work accident

i think that's everything that comes to mind for now. THANK YOU :-]

[tartagilicious]

5:16am / i feel our bodies grow, and our souls, they blend.

haven't written any additions to this in a while, so i thought i'd pick it up again (: the third part of the seasons series, xiao + autumn

section one.

they say that no one story is unique anymore. that everything can only be an interpretation of something that already exists; new or old. and perhaps that's why you feel so down when your eyes reach the page break, and you realise that what you read is not only reminiscent, you just truly have seen this story somewhere else before.

because in the curves of these faces that are described, in the actions that have been reimagined thousands of times, you find someone familiar. only, someone has attempted to craft him into something new.

the image of xiao is destined to be repainted, so long as his vision lives on.

and some things are meant to painted over, like pieces of old furniture or memories you'd rather forget. but good things, truly good things, don't deserve to be subjected to the same fate. a cracked dresser is not at all comparable to the legacy of a person.

the xiao that is spoken of in myths and over fires is ever-changing. but the xiao that you look out the window for each night, the silhouette that appears behind the lanterns hung on the balconies of the wangshu inn, his existence is eternal.

in your own words, the curves of his face may have gotten sharper, but his smile has never changed. xiao did not become more or less kind over time, he has simply always been as such. a myth that suggests otherwise has merely chosen to follow one of the many incorrect narratives in existence.

the wind blows a sheer curtain momentarily to the side, drawing your attention away from the book on your lap. the wind is still warm, but it has a slightly cold bite to it, signifying the shift in seasons.

a small smile comes to your face.

autumn is often your favourite season. because though xiao insists demons are impervious to the cold, he tends to return from his days of scouting much earlier than he would in the warmer months.

and much like the yaksha that bounds high above liyue's plane and harbour, the earth, too, knows that she is unchanging. she has provided an perpetual descent into the autumn, and a gentle rebirth from the spring since the dawn of time.

knowing that many before have sat and experienced the same gentle winds sets a different kind of peace within you.

it isn't broken even as a dense thump resounds on the balcony outside your window. the layout of your space in the renowned inn is an odd one, but it allows for convenience. by the side of a rounded bed is a large window, looking out to the topmost balcony of the inn.

the area was once accessible to guests, perhaps many centuries ago, though it now serves as an easy point of return for both the yaksha and yourself.

you set the book aside. as you pull up a knee in preparation to turn, there is nothing but a quiet gust of air to suggest his presence. but it still comes close faster than you can catch it.

he doesn't touch you, yet his body radiates such a subtle heat that you barely even feel the need to move. when xiao notices that you haven't reacted, he smiles. the amused gust of air he pushes out brushes lightly against your skin

"what are you reading?" he asks, his normally raspy voice quiet. a quick hand reaches around you to where you've placed the hardback.

you make no attempts to hide it as you face him.

"i was reading a book of traditional fables." you explain, watching with a growing smile as your lover flips through the book. "a lot of them include you."

xiao's smile dims slightly, but even he has a hard time masking the interest in his eyes.

"...so? what do they speak of?"

you give him a doubtful look, taking it back. "certainly nothing i couldn't speak of better."

his gaze follows you as you slip from the bed, from his warmth, to ease the book back into its rightful position on the shelf.

"after centuries, i should only hope so." he says.

you laugh quietly as drop back down next to him, silently taking his hand as you joke, "are you worried i'd mess up your pristine reputation?"

xiao takes a moment to smile to himself silently, unable to meet your eye. his thumb hesitantly roves over your knuckle as he begins to lose himself in thought.

"would you?"

smiling gently, you shake your head and whisper. "no."

shaking his head, he scoffs teasingly. his free hand moves up to rustle your hair -- an act that you can only grin at.

and like the autumn wind, xiao's amber eyes are gentle. content. he doesn't have to say anything for you to know that your image reflects the same.

though perhaps you lied a bit, only a bit, in saying that he has not changed. in many ways, this is true. xiao's smile is the same, and he has indeed always been kind. but love does something to a person that not even the greatest writers can emulate.

the curves of his face may be sharp, but what every author has yet to point out is that after centuries, the lines of his heart are much softer.

[proserpina-magnus]

Could you do a fluff Regulus x fem!reader where it’s snowing and they jump into the black lake with their cloths/uniform on and yk ✨main character vibes✨ and then afterwards they both have a cold

Sorry this took so long! thank you so much for this request, I think I made regulus a bit more softer than usual.  🌻

Meant To Be [ Regulus Black ]

word count: 2148

[ warning: fem reader, a little bit of soft Regulus, description of pain caused by temperature, clothes sharing, kissing, hand holding, nicknames such as “love” “princess”, description of sick/colds, medicine taking ]

Hogwarts wasn't as fun with only a small percent of the students left. Most Students were home with their family's, making memories and building snowmen.

You, however, had stayed for the Christmas break. All your roommates had gone home, even some teachers. It felt so quiet walking down the hallways, no gossip or news being shared. Snow had fallen from the sky, coating the Hogwarts grounds with sparkling white.

Luckily, your boyfriend Regulus had convinced his mother to let him stay for the break. You almost squealed at the news. Finally, you could get your boyfriend all to yourself, he was always covered in girls.

You weren't the only one who hated the encounters, Regulus was furious every time a girl would come up to him and completely push you aside.

So here you were, Hands laced together as you run down the empty hallway. You giggled as you heard Regulus ask for you both to slow down, he was curious about where you were taking him.

You flipped back, slowing your speed as you walked backwards. You smiled bright, eyes sparkling like the snow as you tighten the grip on his hand.

"I heard from a 7th year that if a couple jumps in the black lake together, they will stay together forever!" You explained, pushing him further along as you made it to the outside. You looked up at the warm sun, feet crunching against the snow as you basked in the glow.

"I'm sorry what? That's completely insane, you do realize that right?" Regulus said, eyes slightly wider as he thought about jumping in a cold lake.

"Oh Regulus, if we believe it to be true then it is!" You told him, smiling up at him as you pulled him closer to you. The wind pricked at your exposed skin, your hair getting tossed in every direction.

"Yeah, if you believe in fairies. But I'm not jumping in a frozen lake for you to proclaim some bogus myth" Regulus said while planting his feet, drawing you closer to him as he cupped your jaw.

"I'm not letting you jump in a frozen lake, I already know I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with you," Regulus told you, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You smiled with closed eyes, pushing into his kiss as you held onto his forearm.

"I know our love is forever, but we might as well make it official" you whispered, slipping from his hands as you dashed towards the doc.

You heard Regulus call out for you, immediately running after you as you reached the wooden steps. You almost slipped on the ice, sliding down the doc as your arms sprawled out around you.

"Hey! Be careful!" Regulus yelled, now on the doc as well as he couldn't help but laugh at your attempt to stay upright.

"I love you," you told him, letting your feet slip off the edge of the icy wood as you fell back into the cold lake.

Water engulfed your body, the temperature sending stabs to your body as you swam up to the surface.

You broke free just as soon as another splash ruffled the water, Regulus had jumped in after you. You giggled, watching as his head popped up over the waves, his hair flat against his face.

"You jumped in with me!" You yelled, he didn't reply instead he went under the water. His arms wrapping around your waist as he lifted you into his arms.

His face came next to yours, his face pales from the cold as he held onto you tighter.

"You little menace," Regulus said while letting out a laugh. You hardly ever got to hear Regulus's laugh, he was always so quiet and shy. It was nice to finally get loose with him, it felt like you truly were going to live forever with him.

His lips met yours, kissing you with his cold thin lips. You smiled, letting your eyes shut as you leaned closer to the kiss. He pulled away quickly, leading you towards the doc.

"Okay, we must get out now. I don't want you catching a cold" Regulus tried to sound persistent and firm, but when he saw you laugh he couldn't help but take a moment to laugh with you. This moment with like a dream, it all happened so fast that you couldn't even process the cold nipping at your wet clothes.

"Regulus it's freezing!" You yelled out when your adrenaline ran out, your arms wrapped around yourself as you try and find warmth.

"I told you! Your so demanding," Regulus muttered, looking around for your shoes before he saw them wash away down the lake.

"Oh you love it," you teased, kissing his cheek with your shivering lips as you look for your shoes as well. When you saw them halfway past the water, you shivered on impact.

"Come on, I'll get you new shoes," Regulus said, leading you to the castle as you crept along with the snow. Your feet froze, pale and raw as you make it to stone.

Regulus looked over you, sighing before shaking out his hair and picking you up quickly. You wrapped your arms around him instantly, afraid you'd fall.

"Regulus, this is unnecessary," you told him, but you secretly loved it. Regulus rarely ever went out of his way to do affectionate things in public, and though there were no people around to witness, it still made you feel loved.

"No, it's my responsibility as your boyfriend," he proclaimed, striding down the hall until he made his way to the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

"Future Husband," you corrected, your head leaning against his chest as you felt the bumps every time he took a step.

Regulus grinned to himself, opening the door with his foot as he plopped you on the nearest chair.

"What jumper do you want to wear?" He asked, peeling off his wettened tie and shirt as he slipped on a clean white long-sleeve. He went off to the bathroom quickly to grab you a towel.

"The green one," you say, ringing your hair out with the towel as you shiver. Regulus glanced over at you and gave you a look, his lips in a thin line.

"Well, that's real specific isn't it," Regulus said, holding up 3 different jumpers, all in green. You laughed, pointing to the one in his left hand.

He tossed you his jumper, turning around so you could undress without staring eyes. Later on, he tossed you his sweat pants, which were way too big for you.

Both of you had gotten dressed in warm clothes, Regulus had insisted you wear 2 pairs of socks to make sure your feet won't freeze. He looked at you, his clothes were abnormally large on you, he absolutely loved it.

Regulus led you to his bed, helping you under the covers as his hands wrapped around your waist. He pulled you closer, kissing your forehead. You smiled at the feeling, relaxing back into his chest. You felt warmth wash over you, you interlocked your fingers with his before falling fast asleep in comfort.

—

The morning after you woke up to the sun shining through his window, Regulus pressed against your side. His head buried into your neck as he pulled you ever so closer.

"Morning," you mumbled out, your eyes opening slightly. His room was dark, it usually smelt like burning wood and men's cologne. Your nose was clogged, making you twitch it as realized how sore your body felt.

"Morning, princess," he muttered tiredly, his voice was raw. You heard him clear his throat, realizing that you both had been sick from the lake jump.

"We're sick," you declared, rolling over to face Regulus. His nose was slightly red, his eyes looked tired. You brought your hand up to his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his smooth features.

"I don't get sick," Regulus said while his hand rubbed the small of your back in a comfortable manner. You giggled, your head resting on his shoulder.

"Why are you all stuffy then?" You asked, closing your eyes as you adjusted to the feeling of being awake. You had to force yourself to open your eyes, blinking back sleepiness.

"I'm not, your hallucinating because you're sick," his words were almost convincing, but you heard him hold back a sneeze. You pulled out of his grasp, sliding to the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going?" He asked, sitting up as he rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand.

"Getting supplies to heal you," you explain, going into his bathroom. Regulus flopped back down on his bed, closing his eyes with a flustered expression. He felt silly having someone care for him.

You grabbed a cloth, running it in warm water as you squeezed the excess out. You did the same to another cloth, dipping it in cold water. You left the bathroom after a few moments, going back to Regulus.

You climbed atop of his bed, your fingers coming to comb through his hair. He grew it out over the school year, much like his brother. His hair was jet black, waves spinning out everywhere.

"Hi," you whispered, placing the warm cloth against his pale skin. You pressed it firmly against his forehead then moved to press it against his cheek. The cloth left red imprints, you smiled as you dabbed his face.

"This is silly," Regulus commented as you switched to the cold cloth, pressing it against his warm skin. You let the cloth rest against his forehead, smiling down at him.

"Taking care of you isn't silly," you replied blankly, moving the cloth to his cheeks. You walked to the bathroom again, grabbing some cold medicine.

Regulus groaned as he saw you leave the bathroom with the medicine in your hand, you rolled your eyes. Pouring the liquid into the small measuring cup, you pass him the cup. He eyed it, giving you a long frown.

"Drink," you told him, walking over to the jug of water that sat by the window. Ice cubes swam in it, never melting. You poured him a generous glass as he drank the medicine.

He made a small face, making you giggle. Passing him the water, he held you out the medicine cup.

"You're sick too," Regulus said, placing the glass down on his nightstand. You made a small face at the thought, pouring yourself some medicine. You downed it quickly, gagging at the bitter taste.

You reached for his glass, taking a sip as you washed down the remaining taste. You took the cold cloth from his face, pressing it against your own. You flopped down beside him, exhaling in relief from the cold compress.

"My mother never did this for me," Regulus whispered in a small voice, you opened your eyes, casting your vision to where he laid.

"Well now you have me, I'll always take care of you Reggie," you told him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. You placed the cold compress back against his forehead.

"I'm so lucky to have you," Regulus looked like he was about to cry, his voice was strained and his eyes were red. You stroked his cheek, a gentle smile forming.

"You deserve me Regulus, it's not luck. I'm meant to be with you," you avowed, leaning down to capture his lips against yours. Every time you kiss him, it feels like the first time again.

Slowly pulling away, your eyes squinted slightly as you stare into his dark ones. His hand found yours, overlapping his fingers over yours.

"You're my soulmate, every life I'm given I promise I'll find you," Regulus promised and he meant it. He rose on his elbows, tossing the cloth to his bedside table. His empty hand coming to hold your face. He pulled you into a heart-stopping kiss, every ounce of love he offered you poured into this kiss.

"Not if I find you first," you exhaled, resting your forehead against his. Regulus stared lovingly into your eyes, a small smile embedded on his face.

"Come on, I wanna sleep for a little longer," he said, relaxing back onto the bed. He brought you down with him, holding you close. His chin propped up against yours, you lean into his shoulder. He smelt like home, your hands still encased with his.

"You promise you'll find me in our next life," you asked, sleep slowly starting to take over your body. You stayed awake long enough to hear his answer.

"Always," Regulus claimed, hearing your breath even as you slept. He smiled to himself, kissing your forehead. He let his eyes close, contempt with having you in his arms. Regulus fell asleep shortly after you did, finally happy about having someone that he cared so deeply for.

[dreamsclock]

Imagine if c!Dream was written out of history.

Because the smp members couldn't handle that he was even human. They couldn't handle that he was a normal human with feelings. So they replaced his name with "Monster" And "Villain".

So basically lost to history. His ghost does fly around but they don't answer questions. And Dreams ghost is afraid of people so he avoids them and stays in the flower fields. :'(

THIS MADE ME SO SAD WHYYY :((( /lh

this is set ,, like ,, five years into the future, and most of the smp characters have families and peace has been restored to the lands :’) i imagine there’s like,, schools and further development now, 

warnings: death, dehumanisation, torture mentions

“I’ve heard about you,” one girl calls out one day, and Ghost blinks. Is she talking to him? “It is you, isn’t it? That the stories are about?”

Talking isn’t something he usually does. Drawing in a ragged breath of air - not that he needs it anymore - his lips form the start of what he thinks might have been a word at some point. Instead, a hum, strangled, uncertain, leaves his lips, and the girl looks fleetingly frightened, glancing behind her to the safety of houses and homes. 

“...You’re the Monster?”

Oh! That’s a title he recognises. Ghost hovers closer to the ground, cross legged and cautious in his attempts not to scare her. “...Yes,” he says, and doesn’t know his own voice, “that is- that’s me. I’m the Monster.”

The girl smiles, toothy and pleased. “I knew it! I knew you weren’t just a myth. It’s ‘cause we’re always told to stay away from here - Dad told me it wasn’t the Monster, but I always knew it was.”

Ghost hesitates. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that she’s here. She’ll get into trouble: punishment in the flicker of lava and axes come to mind, and he flinches, trying not to react. “...Stories,” he prompts, throat too sore to speak too much, but the kid grins like he’s any sort of adequate conversation partner. 

“Yeah, stories! About the Hero and his Sidekick and the Monster that scared them and hurt them. I did a project on you for class - you were pretty scary. Until the other Hero got rid of you. And then you lost, and you weren’t really scary anymore. You’re not scary now!” She says hastily, almost in reassurance. “You just look lonely.”

Ghost wonders who the other Hero is, He remembers the Hero and the Sidekick - struggles with their names, that remain foreign on his lips until he’s struck with sudden flashbacks that leave him desperate to forget - but for some reason, thoughts of another Hero leave him feeling particularly panicky. “I like the flowers now,” he tells her, quiet, “I like looking at them. They’re my friends.”

The girl puts her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t make you a very convincing Monster. In the book, you’re not supposed to like anything. You lose all your friends when you become the Monster. You started off liking things: you’re not supposed to anymore.”

“What else do the stories say?”

“Uh-” The kid’s nose scrunches in thought. “They say... That you hurt a lot of people. That you were really scary until you died. That you were locked in this huge big prison somewhere, but Uncle Q says it’s been torn down now.” She steps closer, looking uncertain. “The stories say your name was Dream before you became the Monster. Is that true?”

Ghost isn’t sure. He frowns. Dream brings back vague memories of running through these same flower fields, giggling and solid and alive, the flowers swishing past him as he’d been chased. Dream brings back the shadows of pain and loss and anger and bitter disillusionment, and Ghost thinks that if he’d been Dream, he can’t have been very happy before he’d become the Monster. 

“I don’t remember,” is all he can say, “I can only remember the Monster.”

She huffs. “You’re not a very good Monster.”

For some reason, this makes him laugh, the noise startling both of them. “I don’t think I’m the Monster anymore,” Ghost admits, “I just think I’m Ghost.”

The girl stares at him, before turning to admire the flowers. “What’s your favourite colour?” She asks.

The answer comes too easily. “Blue, I think.”

And Ghost freezes when the girl plucks a blue forget-me-not, handing it to him cheerily. “There you go, then,” she says, as though it’s simple, “that’s my Dad’s favourite colour too. You get a blue flower, ‘cause you don’t get many visitors. Can I come back and visit you?”

For a moment, all he can do is stare, stricken. He thinks he might cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, if you want to.”

“Course I want to!” The kid says brightly. “You’re the Monster. You’re my favourite character, even if you’re kinda lame now. I still think you’re cool.”

Cool. Ghost suppresses a smile, staring at the flower cupped in his hands. “You can call me Dream,” he ventures, uncertain. 

“Dream,” the girl repeats, testing it out, “okay. If you say so.”

She gives him a half wave, already turning away, skipping through the flower field. “I’ll see you later, Dream!” She calls back, heading back to the village. “Bye!”

He watches her leave without a word, hovering a few feet higher in the air, and turning to his flower. Hesitantly, he heads deeper into the fields towards a lone tree in the centre, placing it half in the shade, half in the sun, and watching, unable to take his eyes off it.

“See you soon,” Dream tells Daisy Lore softly, and for a moment, almost feels content.

[carryonthroughtheages]

Hello everyone!

Another year of Carry On Through The Ages is over and done! We have emotions and exhaustion, but we're so happy that this year had the hype and excitement that it did.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to all of the AMAZING creators who spent the last several months working away at their historical content!

Thank you also to the hard-working mods: @bazzybelle, @giishu, @palimpsessed, and @xivz . This fest would not have been as successful as it has been without you!

We encourage everyone to look under the page break for all the fics and art. They're all fantastic!

Here is the link to the AO3 Collection: Carry On Through The Ages 2021!

Thank you all, and until next year! 🧡🧡🧡

MONDAY:

1) sun on the sea (T) - @trenchcoat-moth : AO3 // Tumblr

Tensions run high in England, and Malcolm decides it's for the best he sends Baz to live with Fiona, where he'll be safer.

That is, until Baz's ship is attacked.

2) The Words I Long To Say (M) - @bazzybelle : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow was dead.

Baz Pitch was sure of it. Simon had gone away seven years ago to fight a war in the jungle and he hadn't come home.

So, when Simon shows up in Baz's club, investigating a string of brutal murders, all Baz wants to do is hold him close and never let him go.

But these aren't the same boys from 1960 and Baz has a lot of processing to do before he's ready to believe in Simon again.

3) we are slaves to gods, whatever gods are (M) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 // Tumblr

I don’t fully understand what plagues him, but I know it’s bad, and I know it goes deeper than guilt. He didn’t want to kill his father, not really, but we were instructed to do so by Apollo. Cleanse the house of its sins, dispose of a murderer to set things right. It was only right that I join him; he was avenging my mother as much as his. Clearly, Apollo didn’t seem to consider that such an act would make Simon a murderer in his father’s place. It seems I got off fine, but as far as Simon is concerned, the vengeful spirits that once spun and danced on the roof of the palace now hunt him down, determined not to stop until he rids the world of himself.

4) World War II Era Art - @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr

TUESDAY:

1) the art of loving you (E) - @one-more-offbeat-anthem : AO3 // Tumblr

1955. London. Young love.

Forbidden love.

A year ago, starving artist Simon Snow met Baz Pitch, son of a wealthy art patron, at a party, and their days (and nights) together have been a wonderful secret.

But Simon is tired of being a secret and knows it's time for things to end.

(Baz has other ideas.)

2) Reliquary of an Arsonist (T) - @tea-brigade : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow grew up a ward of Watford Abbey, but when his magic manifested in an explosive accident as a child, he became the Abbey’s anchorite—never to leave Watford’s walls, for his own protection. That is, until Abbot David sends him on an important errand…

Basilton Pitch paints portraits for his patron, Lord Grimm. But he’s never forgotten the magic he learned from his mother—nor the men who condemned her to death as a heretic. When Simon arrives and offers Baz a commission from Watford Abbey, he sees his chance to avenge his mother once and for all...and he’s willing to burn down everything in his path to that end.

But it was no coincidence that pulled these two unlikely souls together. Something more sinister is underway at Watford Abbey, and only Simon and Baz can uncover the truth before everything goes up in flames.

3) Westward Son (E) - @aristocratic-otter : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon and Baz have found each other again, but there's nowhere in Brooklyn or Virginia where they can safely be together. So now, they venture the hazards and struggles of the Oregon trail, to perhaps find a little homestead in Oregon of their own.

4) A Way Out (T) - @lying-on-the-sofa : AO3

I frown at him..“You don’t know me.”

He offers his hand. “Simon.”

Simon. I feel the name around in my mind and assign it to his face. Simon. I don’t shake his hand. They’ve still got my arms pinned. “Basilton.”

Simon nods at me. “Now we know each other. Let him go.” Very casually, he takes his other hand from behind his back. A sword, flashing. He leans on it and smiles invitingly. “Let him go.”

This time, they listen.

--

Simon Snow has been trained for years to become a tribute—one of the fighters Athens sends every ninth year into the Minotaur’s labyrinth. He wants to know the way out, if only for Penny’s sake. Luckily for him, Prince Basilton of Crete also wants a way out—off the island, where no one will know he’s the half-brother of the Minotaur.

Unluckily for both of them, they don’t exactly form the most agreeable pair.

WEDNESDAY

1) long is the road the leads me home (G) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 (Version 1) (Version 2) // Tumblr

Baz has a rather unremarkable life, and he's fine with that. Running his late mother's beloved inn with his temperamental aunt, estranged from his father and step-siblings, he's successfully convinced himself that he's better off without attachments.

Then Simon barrels into his life, guns blazing and rapier drawn, and Baz is swept up in dramatic plot he never bargained for.

Worse still, he finds he quite likes the thrill.

2) New Romantics (T) - @ninemagicks : AO3 // Tumblr

Basilton Pitch, twenty-two years old and a famed poet of the Romantic era, has fled to the countryside. In Mummers House, the fabled haunt of literary greats, he sulks himself into oblivion and awaits a sad, disappointing end to his brief years of brilliance. The cause of his downfall? None other than Simon Snow, the so-called “bad boy of English poetry”, breaker of rules and eternal thorn in his side. Baz hopes that Mummers House might mean an escape from London, from Snow and his increasingly virulent popularity... but the rain that comes has other ideas.

3) thnétos (T) - @snowybank : AO3 // Tumblr

thnétos: subject to death, mortal

a retelling of Apollo and Hyacinthus

4) A Medieval AU art piece - @thewriterxj : Tumblr

THURSDAY

1) From Eden (E) - @orange-peony : AO3 // Tumblr

I wonder if his skin is warm or cold to the touch. I tell myself it’s simple curiosity, that I’m an artist and capturing things on paper or canvas is my way to make sense of the world. That drawing him feels so natural, so I should just follow my instincts. Ebb used to say it all the time. Follow your heart. It knows where you’re supposed to go.

I wish I could. I wish I had enough money and freedom to just draw what I want. To paint him in his unattainable beauty. To draw him the way I want to. Naked and vulnerable, raw. Without frills and expensive suits.

Just Baz on paper, my fingers tracing his delicate and beautiful lines with simple charcoal.

2) Slings and Eros (M) - @palimpsessed : AO3 // Tumblr

Young god of love Simonides is tasked by his father, the god of war, to bring about the ruin of a mortal prince to punish his blasphemy. However, once Simonides sees his intended victim, he begins to have misgivings. Prince Tyrannus might have offended the gods with his very existence, but all Simonides can see is how beautiful and lonely he is.

Or, a very loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

3) I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (M) - @knitbelove : AO3 // Tumblr

September 1940: Going back to Watford feels different this year, and not just because England is at the brink of war with Germany and Italy. Penelope seems unsettled by everything, and Agatha is distant, and Baz is … simply not here.

What if Carry On but during the Blitz?? Yeah.

4) A Fool's Oath (M) - @thewriterxj : AO3 // Tumblr

A simple soldier is invited to join the ranks of the royal guard. He and his appointed mage arrive at the royal city to find themselves at the mercy of an unmerciful court. As he struggles to find his place in this foreign environment, he also finds himself entranced by music that only he seems to hear that floats out about the city. He makes an oath to wed whoever makes such beautiful music.

Too bad that person is the crown prince.

FRIDAY

1) Stranger Tides (T) - @tea-brigade & @xivz : AO3 // Tumblr

“If some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…” Captain Simon Snow of the Chosen One is many things—cunning, handsome, ruthless. Greedy. It’s no surprise that Snow finds a way to piss off the God of the Sea, he always manages to get himself into some type of trouble. This time, however, he’s not the only one who will suffer the consequences. Poseidon promises to not stop his pursuit until Snow and all of his men are dead.

Enter Basilton Pitch—rich, beautiful, mysterious. Suspicious. He offers the crew of the Chosen One a hefty sum to take him back to Europe from the Caribbean. And who is Captain Snow to refuse so much coin? After all, Greek gods aren’t real.

Right?

2) The wayward heir [comic] (M) - @letraspal : AO3 // Tumblr

Like a folk song, our love will be passed on. Simon Snow wants to be an artist. He used to live in Fiesole where he worked in the wool shop of his good friend Ebeneza Petty. He has now chosen to return to his native Florence in order to participate in an art contest hosted by the Pitch family, the most important bankers in all the three continents and Simon’s last chance for an art patronage. No matter how much he hates them.

But being back in Florence also brings back the memories Simon wanted to leave behind : his days as an orphan, the mystery about his mother, and once more being under the inquisitive eyes of his godfather, the new archbishop Davy. The archbishop is very same man who would never forgive him for dropping out the priesthood and ruining his secret plans against the Pitches.

The last thing Simon needed was an unbearably handsome jerk getting him into trouble on his very first day in Florence. How can focus when this man is the most annoying person he has ever met and yet his major source of inspiration.

3) Prohibition Blues (T) - @heyyyandrea : AO3

Simon Snow is a baker and aspiring playwright in Prohibition Era New York City. When he meets a handsome man at Shepherd's speakeasy who is interested in his work, he can't help but think it feels too good to be true.

4) Earth Below & Sky Above (M) - @phoxphyre : AO3 // Tumblr

In the depth of the palace of King Minos of Crete lurks a creature known as the Minotaur.

Baz, prince of Athens and chosen of the god Poseidon, has heard the stories. And now he’s volunteered to come to Crete as one of the annual tributes—to dance with the king’s bulls and fulfill his destiny. He just wants to survive the bulls, protect his people, and go home.

But what if the Minotaur isn’t a monster—but just a boy? And what if instead of slaying him, Baz fell in love with him?

A Carry On retelling of the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, set in Bronze Age Crete.

5) A 1980s AU Art piece by @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr // Instagram (Slightly NSFW)

[dmcvergillament]

Bedtime Stories [Part 1]

Fem!Reader x Vergil

Summary: Unable to sleep, young Nero requests a bedtime story. You happily oblige and weave a tale that Vergil recognizes. Nero falls asleep to the legend of the dancer and the dragon and Vergil remembers how he fell in love with you.

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

Tucking little Nero in for the night, Y/N kisses his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little angel."

Vergil picks up toys off the floor.

Nero catches Y/N's hand to stop them from leaving. "I...can't sleep without a story."

Vergil looks up from studying a blue bird plush he found. It looked oddly familiar...

Y/N smiles and sits back down on the bed to brush aside Nero's bangs. "Alright. What story shall I tell?"

Nero snuggles up to his chin in his comforter, eyes shimmering with curiosity. He waits for his mother to begin.

"Ah! I know: how about the legend of the dancer and the dragon?" suggests Y/N.

Vergil pauses as he sets the bird down alongside a black cat on a shelf. His interest is also piqued. What fantasy is Y/N spinning now?

"In a land far, far away in a time long, long ago..." begins Y/N, twirling her hands.

'There they go again with that dramatic voice,' thinks Vergil. Still, he cannot deny how his lover never fails to spark wonder in their son's eyes. Only a few words in and she has Nero's full attention.

"...there was a dancer who could mesmerize entire palaces with every step. When they moved it was like watching petals on the breeze. The soft colors of their clothes twirling around their long legs. Stories spread across many kingdoms of not only their unrivaled skill but also that of their bewitching beauty. All that bore witness to their dance were charmed. It was like a magic spell only they could use," continues Y/N.

"Were they as pretty as you, Mama?" mews Nero, tilting his head in that way that always melted Y/N's heart.

Y/N reaches over to stroke their son's ivory hair, before opening her mouth to say---

"What a foolish question." Gliding over to the bed, Vergil sits opposite of Y/N. His eyes flicker to Y/N before he continues, "Do not compare a rose to a field of dandelions."

Nero seems satisfied with this answer.

Y/N gestures for Vergil to not interrupt before she adds, "So one day the dancer gets invited to the royal palace to perform. Afterwards, the King becomes so enthralled, he begs them to stay and marry one of his sons. The dancer politely refuses and leaves. This was not the answer the King had hoped for and so he hired a famous knight to find her and bring her back to the palace."

Rubbing his chin, Vergil wonders, 'Why does this sound oddly...familiar?'

"This knight always wore brilliant, scarlet armor, so the people called him the 'Crimson Knight'. Legends spoke of how he could slay any monster and of the sword he carried upon his back. It was a grand sword said to be enchanted with an ancient magic that allowed it to cut through even dragon hide," explained Y/N, waving her hands like she was trying to make the sword appear.

"He was a dragon slayer?" asks Nero curiously.

"No matter how tall or dangerous the monster may be, he was always victorious. While many claimed to have been witness to such a feat, no one knew for certain if he had slain a dragon. After all, dragons were the most powerful of foes. They were cunning, proud, and equipped with immense magic," answered Y/N.

"Could he beat a dragon?" questions Nero.

"He most certainly believed he could. After all, he was the Crimson Knight: the warrior of all the human kingdoms. Whenever a monster appeared, he was called in to defeat it," replied Y/N with a nod.

"Sounds like someone I know," grumbles Vergil.

"Shhhh."

"But here he was faced with a strange request: to hunt not a beast but a woman. A woman armed with only an aptitude for dancing. This was not a job for the Crimson Knight. The King---afraid he'd decline and she'd slip away---lied. He told the knight that the dancer was harboring a curse set upon her by a demon. That if she was not found and brought back to the palace to be purified, she would die. Now this resonated with the Crimson Knight. How could he let such a beauty wither and wilt from such misfortune? So he set off to find her," continued Y/N.

"How could he lie? She's not really cursed, is she?" asks Nero with a frown.

Vergil interrupts, "People lie because..." He clears his throat. "Sometimes they lie to get what they want."

"She's not really going to die, right?" whispers Nero.

Vergil glances at Y/N. "No, she won't."

Y/N nudges him with an elbow. "Shhh, no spoilers."

"So without even knowing she was being followed, the dancer hopped from town to town to perform. Rarely did she stay for more than a few days in the same area. Her heart was set on adventure and she enjoyed the journey even if it was tedious without a horse or carriage. She felt as free as the birds in the sky. With her spirits soaring, she set out for the neighboring city. However, along the well-trodden path, a man appeared. Whipping his cart into a frenzy, he was approaching fast. Spotting her, he jerked on the reins and nearly fell off the bench. 'Young lady! Young lady!' he gasped. 'Turn back now! Only death and hellfire awaits at the end of this road!' Stunned, the dancer asked him to explain. 'A dragon has appeared! He has built his den inside the ruins of the castle and he strikes down all who disturb him! The people are terrified! Protect yourself and run while you still can!' Then with a crack of the reins, his cart was disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust. The dancer stood there flabbergasted. How can there be a dragon of all things? Were they not creatures of myth? Not believing in the danger, she continued onwards despite the warning."

"No! Don't go! You'll get eaten!" gasps Nero, burrowing deeper into his comforter to hide.

Vergil snorts. "Depends on what you mean by 'eat' her."

Y/N shoots him a look. Luckily, she seems to be the only one to catch it. Nero is oblivious as he is too busy trying to blend in with his pillows.

"Anyway..."

"Our heroine reached the city and was hit by a startling revelation: it was quiet. Walking through the marketplace, she found stands of fruit abandoned and carts of goods unprotected. Where was all the hustle and bustle? Where were all the people? Further up the road, shutters rattled and there were hints of movement. The dancer wondered if she'd even be able to perform here if there was no one to be the audience. Then an idea stuck her: what if she could coax the people out with her talents? If not dancing, then maybe a lute or harp would soothe their spirits and rekindle the city's vigor. So she sought out the very reason she had come to this territory specifically: the grand theatre. There all kindred souls of music and art showcased their passions. She had hoped to connect with other performers here who were as dedicated to their craft as she was. Spotting the gold rooftop shimmering in the evening sun, she scurried towards it with a renewed excitement. Throwing the doors open, she gleefully announced her arrival."

"Only to be met with silence."

"How can a place of boisterous joy be silent? On hooks and shelves, all the instruments sat idle. Not a single string was singing. Even the tables were vacant with not even a crumb set out for the mice. 'What is going on?' she wondered. Still, she was even more determined now. Picking up a lute, she played a few notes. Testing its voice, she listened to the hearty tones and wondered how anyone could have put it down. Jumping into an energetic melody, she smiled to herself. This hall echoed the sound perfectly: each note complimented each other rather than drown in a sea of cacophony. Erasing the silence eased the chill that had settled in her chest. That is, until someone snatched the lute from her hands. 'Are you mad?!' hissed a man, 'You'll draw the beast right to us!' Confused, she asked him to explain. 'Music attracts him. If you keep playing, he'll come back!' She asked him if he was speaking of the dragon she heard about. 'Yes. He has settled into the castle on the hill. Both the castle and its lord perished many years ago. The city has never been quite the same since. Now this monster has taken over and the peace in our hearts have been shattered.' The man's words sowed worry in her heart. Yet, something struck her funny: if this dragon was so vicious, then why did it only attack, when he heard music? Did music have some kind of power over him?"

"Did the dragon not like music? Why?" Nero peeked around the edges of his blanket.

Y/N fixed her son's hair behind his ear. He was already nurturing the start of a bird's nest.

"The music made him remember..." Vergil's eyes were glossed over. Y/N could tell he was somewhere else. "Remembering was...painful for him."

Not expecting a co-narrator, Y/N waited to see if he would continue.

"See, the dragon was cursed: his memories stolen from him. Hearing a melody sometimes brought those memories back in bright flashes. Remembering what he had lost pained him more than the sharpest blade. Rather than endure his past, he silenced the melody any way he could. Even if it was...cruel," explained Vergil, his voice dry.

Was that a twinge of guilt Y/N could hear?

[Continued in Part 2...W.I.P.]

[captainkurosolaire]

I challenge you to pick five Tumblrs in your social circle and tell them something you admire about their blog!

Only 5? I could probably do 500. However, that's determined by what's considered my social circle. I'm often in my head being incredibly social continuously is really a challenge of mine. I'm always actively marching to something, my flame of passion when I have it, I can do some crazy stuff but it diminishes relatively quickly, so I try to cling. But I'll up your thing and list 25 of my fave people. Ask me this same thing in a Month, I'll keep doing 25, until I do all the people. How about that? (If anyone wants to be taken off mention let me know.)

@eligos-venator

- Has one of the most intelligent and sophisticated minds, I've had the pleasure to know. Literally admire all his aesthetics, work, head-cannons, ideas. It's only a benefit that the dude shares some OC characteristics to my own (Winning features). I really enjoyed the short-thread we did. It was incomplete, mainly because of my faults. I want to actually be better to give him a proper delivery and RP worth his time, but he's incredibly worth the investment of eyes.

@mischiefandmystics

- If there was a Mount Rushmoore of writers who kept me in this endeavor, encouraged me. Sun'ra is one of them. His characterization skills, writing, the delivery and how believable his character is, they're masterful acts.

@mishivymendi

- I wouldn't be nearly tamed or as creatively freed if it wasn't for this gem. She broke my shell, I really didn't at a time ever see myself being anything really beyond a smut writer, but Mishi not only saw potential in me, but brought it out. Her stories and world's she brings to life are so majestically colorful.

@asymphonyofash

- My go-to. He's another pillar individual who saw things in me past just the obvious perception, (Probably second longest XIV RPer I know.) Taught me a lot of the lore, I shot him up and he's sort of become my stapled rock. He's right aside Sun'ra met them about the same, both took me under their wing's as I quietly observed and absorbed.

@lavender-hemlock

- We're always up and front with each other, never feeling like I couldn't say anything around, extremely rare to share that these days. Her gif's are legendary, something on my own terms I want to soar in quality. The writing she does is astounding. Character has so many mysterious pages that are quite addictive to want to explore and learn them. (Encore 20 below-cut)

@under-the-blood-moonlight - Her sweetness and artwork and overall is just a friendly presence to be around. I cherish them so much. One I can jive with more darker undertones with. She's one the most hardworking and ambitiously creative people. I'd mail them infinite hugs if could. Thanks for being you! @roxinova - I owe a lot of credit to her. She's constantly OOC and everything was nudging me too be more inclusive to things and involved heavenly. It's rare for me. I'm really horrible about that my autism sets me back socially, I constantly will be drowned by the next day and be reverted back to better off alone, that's my major crux and weakness. But her thoughtfulness, these things, aren't ever foreign to me, I do pay attention probably better than any would ever give me credit. She's a beacon model to have as a friend. @corpse-dancer - Haven't ran into many words with them, but her character, screenshot game, expressiveness, they're all a marvel to constantly see, alongside her attitude and bringing life character. I do think if I were better, we would click quite splendidly. They've recently reminded and motivated me to pick-up my daily-practice, or try too. Keep being a rockstar. @fair-fae - Few who wouldn't know who she is in this community. She's been in my opinion a huge core. I'm certain she's inspired many who weren't even RPers too try it by seeing her at the Quicksands or elsewhere, a tyme ago. Making no exception, I was even one of those. I used to be in QS every-single day and was often doing my shameless stuff. Though her presence first did show me there's a lot more. I admire her in all fields. Also appreciate her adopting me to the FC and her always thinking of others and giving events, or her aesthetics and portrayal, its the epitome of swan elegance. @thorcat - One of my most treasured friends. Been RPing with them for a longtime. There's never anything complicated between us or a rift of drama, it's just let's go and have fun. We really mesh well, I've welcomed nearly ever character and got the privilege to RP with nearly all them. They always open up envelope and help me, settle on back and just laugh. Whether used to be waking up to their characters humping my afk one or use randomly having a hardcore banter between Ufah and Captain and capturing them as a voidal pet. Memories with them isn't something I'd ever want to lose. I love ya! Never stop enjoying life for anything. @lukawarrioroflight - I get in the gutter find myself lacking motivation or writing, discouraged even... But I never have felt, I could ever do any wrong with this person, they bring the light out of me. So no matter what, how many hospital-beds I yearly visit, it's because of this rare nature, that I come back, even if they're the only one's ever to read my stuff. I would do it for them alone. @scholarlybreadbun - I've only been back recently and they've so much warmth. Their presence is the sun of inviting. The couple and posing all the shipping that stuff makes me even melt. I'm not particularly talented in regards to posing couples, but I took notice of them along time ago and set on quietly improving. Really like them for them, wouldn't ever want them to change that. Ideally look forward to be in their orbit longer so I can bask in them. @seascrapes - Been mutual with them for a while. Their aesthetics and character is all S+ level. I appreciate throwing back tagged prompts with them, one of many people I really think would be enjoyable to collab with any other seafarers. The artwork and pieces of Tal Brook, are breathtaking as ever exceptionally too, not to mention. Love your stuff matey, you're a king. @mai-takeda - Is a myth. Her absolutely sheer friendliness and her attitude, are so positive influencing, I was so thrilled to be welcomed with her and boosted by them early on. I couldn't see myself, wanting to exist where they didn't have happiness like the same she always delivers by just doing so many soft-things. Not to mention her writing... She's a whole world to throw yourself gazes

under. @zhauric - It doesn't go far either without the same breath of Mai, I could say about Zhauric. He's someone worthy to look-up and also recognize they're passionate and inviting, hoisting up literally everything. Could easily find any of their characters comrades with my own, or jiving alongside. Not to mention last XIVWrite, they slaughtered it. So enjoyable to read them all. I like how organized their blog is too, motivated me recently to redux my entire thing. @cadrenebula - They have so many diverse characters and their entire roster is vibrant and is imbued with a massive flux of life. They are able to encapsulate so many character's voices and portray them so effectively too, I really admire that greatly. They've made me think bigger and try myself recently at actually undertaking a huge roster of characters too. I've taken many breaks, but I always am so graciously returned often with them close-by and that's so incredibly sacred. I've seen a lot of people get discouraged or quit, leave, departure, etc. But they always seem to have a bigger house then they had last I took a break and I enjoy peaking in. @silvernsteel - Her artist and gif-work are awe-aspiring, there's little unrecognizable by her photo-sets and edits. They helped me even tip-toe into uncharted with giving me the recipes to try incorporating gifs into my arsenal. Plus so delightfully pleasant to actually talk with and just chill. I want nothing less in life, than the beauty they give, to be returned to them for eternity in all their glorious air. If ever needed anything of me, they've got me. @spotofmummery - We talk about passion or friendliness or overall a person to even remotely try to be, I got to include them. Their web-series and writing, screen-work, everything they do is fantastic. And that's furthered back nearly any I've met showcase or immortalize how just genuine of stellar person they are. I wish them always the energy to create and sparks. @snow-covered-moon - They've never been anything less but absolutely a diamond to know. I enjoy their character, their almost always abundant of energy that's very rub inducing. Their WoL character stories, writing, screen-shots, everyday they open up a new pandora box of joy, there's no mistaken love behind their character and that's infectiously easy to also enjoy something when the author does too. Always healthy to be around, I never feel short of vitality when they're close-by. @letheofthelost - Always cheerful or least encapsulates with me, they're a carnival ride. Just pure epic story-telling and engaging equally as passionate, constantly writing characters, not looking for anything outside of RP or anything really just being their selves, they fade all others. I love their presence, them as a person. Enjoy any character they'll ever come and throw under me, or a change of pace. Always feels easily understandable between one another. @crow-iv - Together we're an unfiltered, unstoppable wake of pure passionate writers and art. But I would say they're far ahead of me, in every regard. Already able to portray multiple characters in a scene and do such in-depth thinking, alongside even sketch or draw right afterwards or a scene. They're so talented, huge reason I set-out on giving them a Crew of cast and actual stories to-tell when I'm actually caught up and if they interested and we both have the room, I really think if further myself, I can be better and supply more for them to draw and I want to see them soar. I want to give them all my improvements and effectiveness. @trishelle - They've such a reinforcing personality and aura around them that easily bolsters anything that dares thinking they're about to be depleted so energizing. Aesthetics, characters, all them are so lively that further compliment their own mun's great welcoming presence. Worth hundreds of smiles and stars, keep high. Wish I had more time to dedicate to learning you! But I do notice and appreciate you. @fracturedfantasia - One of my people, I like to retreat and just talk my full

head-cannons with or learn, share insightful and inquisitive thoughts about philosophies and multi-culture things. Or plotting and in-general, they're a well of information and brimming ideas, they are every making of what makes a quality friend. When you can generally be open-about-all that's a real one right there. Their characters and tarot readings, I always would implore if they're offering. Thanks for giving me any-time. You're truly a treasure. @violet-warder - Never have even came to words with them yet unfortunately but didn't mean as a mutual, I haven't admired all their screenies, writing, or the aesthetics they bring of their character. Glamours is real end-game, I like all what you've done and put together. I care strictly about what represent and give, I don't want to see them ever think anyone want's them gone, they are abundantly so talented and possess things only they can deliver. I think recently came back too, and I'm glad to share, hopefully, overtime I can build you better up. Or eventually even talk, but I'm certain you are a busy-body person too, so we're relatable. @layla-grey - I have a lot of underline issues that set me back as a flawed person, but I've never not been anything but someone who's open, it's why I always do include my f-list in anything or etc. I'm not here to present this facade, and really don't care to be an image crafted by another. No one as of recently or now, am I close with as an RP partner or friend with then this stunning masterpiece. I never let-up on story-telling or anything so I can eventually use my Crew or other Characters, to give them anytime a master entertaining day, they push me to not be short-changed. IC and OOC I would devote my full attention too cause they've never shed from me. Didn't ever matter how much silence or anything, they're always around. And don't expect anything out of me or pressure. Just accept me and I equally share that sentiment, I want you to have everything in this world has to offer. ----- This is just a fraction of people, I've paid attention, noticed or know. I've been around in this Community for many years. There's a lot of things I could say about it, more probably then anyone else. But what matters to me, is recognizing the people who are here, that work hard, build others up, support, constantly are a beam. I don't need to interact with everyone, to know when someone is generally out for good. Or they're out for bad I've learned inquisitiveness longtime ago, I had to survive and remain afloat. I just go out and be me, and along the way, I get to find people like these, who help bring out the best me. I am nothing without these people, creators, writers, artist. I'm a terrible friend, horrible person, I don't have the energy to interact NEARLY with as much as I'd like with you all, If I could clone myself, or if things were different, I would drop it all to be in your orbits more if could. But, do know I appreciate you. And even if you ever do depart from this whole community or anything, know that anything you share, or give, that stuff does matter, somewhere, someone was aspired, if nothing else, by me. ONLY you can give the worlds you see and I am thankful. Do love yourself.

[tera-starstorm]

The SwSh:CA Jirachi!AU

okay i want to explain the jirachi!au because it's been on my mind since the last piece i posted. So...!

essentially what happens is that sometime after the postgame events yasuta finds the strange draw of the weald growing stronger. by this point he's realized that usually means something is going on in there so he takes a stroll in to check it out.

by this point, his real healing process from his unpleasant life events has truly begun and been going for a while. he's been introspective about bad memories that he's tried to ignore, learning not to blame himself or hold onto them. he's beginning to understand that they'll always be s part of him and that though he never, ever did or could have done anything to deserve them, he'll be able to grow, change, and move forward. he can be still happy, even with the baggage.

but there's one thing he could never really accept, and that was the passing of his younger brother.

that was not acceptable to him, and he can't find a way to accept it. it didn't just affect him. it took the life away from his three year old brother who he had worked so hard to protect, maturing much faster than he should've at such a young age. it bothers him. he still thinks about it. you can tell how heavily it affected (and continues to affect) him — he still has the tendency to act like an older brother wherever he can.

he tends to think about this kind of stuff while he's in the weald, since he often goes there for a quiet space to just think. he feels safe there. naturally, it begins to cross his mind on his stroll, and he gets tense. he goes to sit at the shrine to try and wind down.

and then suddenly, something descends behind him. he turns around, and there is jirachi, approaching curiously.

he's heard the myths and legends about it. how could he not have, for someone who is so interested in that kind of thing? nontheless, he's surprised. though he's speechless for a moment, he calmly greets it. he even takes a few berries out of his bag to offer to it, to its delight.

and then, it pauses. it looks concerned, like it can sense something from him. he thinks he's scared it, but it gets closer, trying to open his bag. he thinks it wants more food and begins to try and take some out, but instead it pulls out a full pokéball and shoves it in his hands. confusedly, he throws it, and out comes his phantump.

jirachi approaches the phantump. it's an unusual one for sure, with little blue flowers, forget-me-nots, on its branches in place of the usual sparse leaves and violet eyes. it glances back at yasuta for a second before a gentle glow begins to form around both it and phantump.

before yasuta can even process what's happening, phantump begins to change. it begins to take a tiny human form.

the glow fades, and jirachi disappears, but not before giving yasuta one last smile. sitting on the ground before him is a familiar face. it looks a lot like his own. yasuta goes pale.

without a doubt, it's his brother, yuki, the same age as he was when he passed.

(aaaaand thats the general basis of it all! i don't make many AUs but this one. This One Is Important Okay. i care for it deeply)

[megashadowdragon]

fgo theory is caster cu really odin 

comments : 

There is also the 10 bond CE for him being the Yggdrasil Tree, which is very Norse. (the fact he needs a bunch of Yggdrasil seeds may also be a bit of a hint.) Interestingly, the Wickerman festivals were held throughout Europe (Areas such as England and Scotland) and were regarded as a neo-pagan festivity. Chances are, if CasCu really is Odin, it is highly likely he will take action in the English Lostbelt second part. I think itd be really cool, but if that was the case itd be more likely Cu caster was a Cu-Odin fusion similar to Scathach-Skadi. We know its within Odin's ability to do a fusion like this due to how he did the same for Skadi. It also explains how caster cu retains the protection from arrows and disengage skills. It also makes more sense how he's kept his identity a secret, because it's not false that he is Cu.

www . reddit . com/r/grandorder/comments/lkw9xm/summary_of_the_caster_cu_chulainnodin_theory/

At absolutely no point does he ever give his name or makes any mention to it.

Other Servants who initially don't give their names say that they'll give it to you later. Caster does not even bring up the subject.

In the Garden of Sinners crossover event, he says "there's no Cú Chulainn here". It's treated as a gag, but...

In the Singularity F Memorial Quest, he's the only Servant referred to by his Class name instead of his True name.

In Lostbelt 6 he finally introduces himself... as Grimnir. This is an alias that Odin uses in the Grímnismál.

He's not supposed to be the Caster of the Fuyuki Grail War in the first place. In the original reality, it's Medea, while in FGO reality it's Solomon. Material states that Singularity F is the result of data colliding, and Caster resulted from that. However, in that case it should be either Solomon or Medea who appear in Singularity F, not Cú Chulainn.

One of his lines goes as following: "Isn't bit boring to play a game that never ends? For better or for worse, it's like you can't move the pieces forward, yeah?" Is he talking about Singularity F? At any rate, this sounds weird.

His Final Ascension art and animation update features two white wolves. Odin is stated to have two wolves named Geri and Freki.

His second Noble Phantasm, which he mentions in one of his My Room lines, is called "Ochd Deug Odin - Seal of the Great God". It's an exceedingly powerful Rank A Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm with potentially Game Breaking effects, but what's interesting is its description: it activates by chanting its True Name and using all 18 primordial runes granted by Scáthach at once (keep in mind she taught him the Norse ones) and it "temporarily unleashes the power of the rune possessed by the Great Odin". Aside from the weirdness of him even having that Noble Phantasm in the first place (he's not supposed to have Wickerman either, but at least we get an explanation for that), why can't he use it? (Potential Game-Breaker status not withstanding).

In the North America version of the game, his Bond Craft Essense is called "Yggdrasil Tree". That's taken from Norse Mythology, so why would a Celt have it?

In addition, the Yggdrasil tree has a particularly strong tie to Odin. The Ygg bit is another name for him, and according to legend at some point he hanged himself from one of its branches to gain wisdom.

For some reason, he's in the Nordic Fields during Boudica's 3rd Strengthening Quest.

During Valentine's Day in the return gift scene, he talks about the Human Order Incineration and the Human Order Reorganization - a.k.a. the Lostbelts. Somehow he knew about the Lostbelts before the game even got to that point.

In the 2019 Valentine's event, he's seen reading the book "Scandinavia's Beautiful Mountains".

In the FGO mats, Sigurd takes special notice of him and then has a Double Take. He also seems confused about him in his material profile. The fact that Sigurd noticed Caster is odd, but it should also be noted that Sigurd encountered Odin a number of times in his legend, thus making him one of the most likely people to recognize him.

Scáthach's Interlude brings up a LOT of questions. The regular Lancer Cú Chulainn says that his power is reduced because half his Saint Graph is missing. Mash suggests that the reduction in power may be because he was separated in numerous classes, but Lancer Cú is surprised that he can be summoned as a Caster. In addition, there are several Servants summonable in numerous classes, and none of them has this problem. There's a possibility that the other half of the Saint Graph went to Caster, and he's using an external source to stabilize it.

According to the Arcade version of FGO, it's impossible for any version of Cú Chulainn to be summoned without Gáe Bolg or the skill "Martial Arts Disciplining in the Shadow Country". Yet Caster has neither, thus making him an impossible summoning.

Not very noticeable in the English version, but he occasionally slips into using the "washi" pronoun during dialogue. For those who might not know, "washi" is actually pretty formal, and contrasts Cú Chulainn's much more casual "ore".

A lot of his official art has him looking subtly different that the other versions of Cú Chulainn.

He has lighter-coloured hair in all of his artwork, and Fate/Grand Carnival gives him wrinkles under the eyes. This trait is usually used in anime to show a character around 40-50 years old; an age that Cú Chulainn never reached.

In his card art and formal outfit card, his eyes are almost orange rather than red. In addition, one eye is always at least partially hidden.

In his April Fool's card, he has different facial features than the rest of the Cú Chulainns.

Tying to the above, Odin is known for disguising himself as an older man, usually a wizard, in a hood, and he's missing an eye. Missing eye aside, Caster fits most of that criteria, and as pointed out above, most his art hides his eye anyway. Odin gave said eye in exchange for wisdom, and there are a few remarks that Caster is getting smarter.

In the original Fate/stay night, Emiya draws a connection between Gáe Bolg and Odin's spear, Gungnir. Considering that he has picked up things like Rho Aias and Caladbolg, we can probably take him at his word. In his animation update, Caster throws his staff above the enemies heads, and then it changes tragectory to attack them from behind. While this could easily be a reference to Gáe Bolg's actual method of killing in the myth (it entered the victim through the asshole), it could also be a reference to how Odin would throw Gungnir above the heads of his enemies to declare a war.

Another detail from his animation upgrade is that his Instant Runes often take the form of a Valknut; this symbol according to some scholars is associated with Odin.

There are overall several indications that Caster will play a significant role later in the story: he's featured in the trailer of Lostbelt 6 and received his animation update during the Lostbelt 6 livestream, and Word of God has implied several times that we will be returning to Singularity F at some point.

Tying to the above, in one of My Room conversations, he say's he'll teach you how to use Runes later. Maybe it's not Blatant Lies after all.

Caster and Odin share several personality traits. Both of them are known as "the raging one", are strongly tied with the concept of war, magic, and wisdom, and both of them are The Gadfly - as Caster displays in Singularity F when he tries to get Mash to activate her Noble Phantasm. In addition, in various events Caster seems to have a gambling problem, which is also one of Odin's traits. Not to mention "summon me as a Lancer" works for Odin too.

The recent Lostbelt 6 update also adds fuel to the fire. In My Room dialogues, Scáthach tells him that his Rune magic is slightly different from what she taught him. He asks Sigurd not to look at him with the glasses, when he sees Brynhildr he muses that this must be fate/karma and specifically refers to Scáthach-Skadi as "Lostbelt Skadi."

His new battle lines from the same update are just as interesting.

"Witness the essence of the Rune magecraft taught by Scáthach... Sure, let's go with that." Along with Scáthach accusing him of his Rune magic being different, this could easily imply that he didn't learn them from her.

Another line is that "he doesn't have the noose of his neck anymore". As an above point states, this Odin did this to learn his runes. The noose bit also never happened to Cú Chulainn.

One of his victory lines references "wolves and crows" and that he has "no idea what they're talking about". The crows part could be a reference to the story of Cú Chulainn's death, which features a crow sitting on his corpse, but the whole quote seems to better reference Odin and his pets; the wolves Geri and Freki, and the crows Huginn and Muninn.

Lostbelt 6 also gives his a buff to his Disengage skill. More specifically, it's actually two buffs that activate back-to-back, with the first called "At the Fountain" and the second called "Sacrifice to the World Tree". Very specific, game.

In Lostbelt 2, it is outright stated that it was Odin who fused Skadi and Scáthach together. Who says he never did it before?

[songbirdsingingthings]

Chapter Five - The Melancholy Of The Heart

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

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Word Count: 1.6K

The clink of a teacup draws your attention from your daydreaming and you immediately slap on the fake smile that you’ve been managing for the past three weeks. Of all the times to be nodding off, you scold yourself as you shift a little in your seat, making sure your posture was still perfect and your hands were placed in the correct way. You were worrying, of course, because seated across from you was Lord Iida’s mother. She was genuinely a kind person, but you were having a hard time conversing with her. Of course you were, because you were forcing yourself to pretend that you’re head-over-heels in love with her son.

“So Miss Yagi, where do your interests tend to lead you? I do tend to find myself rather drawn towards needlepoint,” Lady Iida says, a gentle smile on her face. You place your teacup down on its saucer gently.

“Needlepoint is a very fine activity indeed,” you start with, making sure to stick to exactly what you had been taught when Nemuri Kayama, your governess, had instructed you in the art of conversing. “However I tend to stray more towards the pianoforte - it was a love that both my mother and I shared.” You confess. This earns a pitying look from Lady Iida as she reaches across the small tea table and places a hand on top of yours.

“I was so very sorry when I heard about your mother all those years ago. It must’ve been so hard on the senior Lord Yagi, having the responsibilities of a mother pushed on to him.” At her words, your entire body froze, but quickly heated up again with anger. However, you maintained a placated expression.

“My father did wonderfully with raising both my brother and I. My mother, bless her soul, would be ecstatic with how he accomplished both that and his own business.” You made sure to sweeten up your voice, raising it a few octaves in order to show respect but gently, and subtly, push her into the direction of ‘My father had no issues with acting like both a mother and a father’. It had only been about an hour of this and you were already at your limit. “Oh, would you believe the time? I must be heading home in order to aid my brother with the plans of his upcoming nuptials,” You say, pushing back your chair politely, but quickly, and dipping into a shallow curtsy before excusing yourself. 

“Are you kidding me? ‘Must’ve been so hard for Lord Yagi because he now has to perform more womanly duties’. Bullshit, utter bullshit.” You hiss to yourself quietly, finally making your way back to your home.

“Welcome back, Lady Yagi.” A butler greeted you and opened the door. You shot him a quick greeting and a ‘thank you’, before stomping your way into the parlor. You saw Izuku out of the corner of your eye so you closed yours and collapsed onto a couch.

“Y/N, uh-” Your brother began but was quickly cut off.

“Izuku, you wouldn’t believe what Lady Iida had to say! Going on about how it must’ve been so hard for Father when Mother died because he had to act as the matron of the household. I mean, seriously!” You scoff, leaning your head back.

“Y/N!” Izuku finally shouted, causing you to sit up.

“What?” You ask back, a confused look on your face due to his outburst. That’s when you finally looked to the left to see who you really didn’t want to see. Shouto. Confusion turned to anger as your eyes left Shouto and latched themselves back onto Izuku. You breathe in and out, deeply, before you start talking. No matter how much you hated him right now, Shouto was of higher status than you and you were responsible for acting a certain way. “Izuku, may I speak with you in the hallway? Privately?” You say, faux-sweetness dripping from your voice as you clench your teeth. You turn on your heel and step into the hallway that was just outside the parlor where Izuku follows you in a hurry.

“Before you start, I am so sorry, I thought you weren’t going to be home for another few hours,” Izuku confessed, his voice a whisper. You closed your eyes and heaved a sigh.

“I know the two of you are friendly, so I am not going to chastise you for inviting him to our house for the day,” you begin, trying to maintain a level of calmness, “just let me know when he is coming.” You beg of him, your eyes imploring. Izuku swallows a lump in his throat and nods. The two of you walk back to the parlor, albeit wordlessly, and you settle on the couch you were seated on beforehand. You could feel Shouto’s eyes burning holes into your back, so you bucked up and finally addressed him. “Lord Todoroki, you seem to be almost everywhere I am these days,” you say, your words laced with disdain.

“It seems that way… indeed.” Shouto says quietly, his eyes flickering in between you and his hands. You internally groan as you think back to your etiquette lessons, particularly the exact one keeping you stationed in that parlor instead of holed up in your room. When in the presence of a higher ranking social class, or if they are to be present in your household, you must entertain or partake in conversation. However furious at Shouto you were, you’d be damned if you didn’t uphold your studies. Quickly, you think up a solution.

“Forgive me, gentlemen, but this is the hour I tend to practice on the pianoforte - I should not want to subject both of you to such clamour. Our gardens are quite lovely at this time of day, Izuku, why don’t you take Lord Todoroki on a tour? Or shall I ring the Yaoyorozu household and invite Lady Yaoyorozu so she can partake in the activity?” You state clearly, wanting your words to sting.

“Y/N,” Izuku hisses, a rare glare in his eyes.

“I should like to stay, if you'll allow Y/-Lady Yagi.” The effect your formal name coming out of his mouth has on you is tremendous, and you hate it. You hate how you longed for your first name to be uttered from his lips and how much comfort you found from him when you did. You dipped your head so that he couldn’t see the pain flash across your face and instead make your way over to your favorite instrument, taking a seat on the bench and drawing on the sheet music from memory. It was a melancholy piece - the notes varying from sad to what almost sounded like hope, only to be plunged back into the murky waters of sorrow. You sit there for a moment after you plink out the final notes before you look up to see Shouto’s eyes still on you. Screw the damn etiquette rules, you tell yourself as you get up, feeling your eyes get more watery.

“If you’ll excuse me,” You say softly, hurrying towards the outside gardens. How foolish were you to believe that your feelings for him would just vanish? Shouto Todoroki, the Duke’s son, was a one of a kind gentleman. You compared your feelings to that of Tantalus, the greek myth about being just out of reach of the thing they crave, they need the most.

“Lady Yagi,” His voice fed the longing that lingered in your mind - it was almost intoxicating to an extent. No, your conscience told you, tell him to leave. He hurt you, he lied to you. He. Is. Engaged. “I’m not engaged. Not anymore.” Your eyebrows narrowed, perplexity evident. Did you hear him right? It must’ve been a trick of the wind, whistling in your ear in a way.

“Lord Todoroki, that is a cruel joke,” you managed, turning away from him. “You mustn’t say that to a young lady who is so close to being engaged herself.” You bring a hand up to your forehead, feeling a little faint. Although you couldn’t see him, Shouto’s face has morphed into a crestfallen one.

“To Lord Iida,” He states clearly, however this time you can hear the tiny bit of emotion he usually keeps shielded from his voice.

“You mustn’t say that because if it is true, you will have created a situation in which I cannot be fully happy. On one hand I will be married to Lord Iida but always know that my true love, the one that has my heart in his hands, loves me back and will have gone against his father to do so.” You run a hand through your now messy hair feeling the carefully placed pins start to fall out of it. “And on the other, I am to be married to you and will leave Lord Iida feeling played - exactly the feeling I felt with you. The way I absolutely loathe that feeling…” you confess, finally meeting Shouto’s eyes again. The two of you stand there for a moment, trying to figure out a solution to a most paradoxical situation.

“Y/N,” Shouto begins, stepping forwards. His hands are inches from yours when you see Izuku race out of the house towards the two of you. Your hands jut back towards your sides as you see your brother approaching. His expression is one of great concern, worry swimming in his eyes. You open your mouth to speak but Izuku does first.

“I-It’s Father, he’s fallen ill. They think it’s pneumonia and they said it’s quite serious…” His words fade into nothing as your mind is spinning. Pneumonia, that’s what Mother had. Izuku is saying that Father has the same illness that Mother had. The illness that Mother had when she died. You could see the worrisome eyes of both Izuku and Shouto on you as your vision begins to fade. The last thing you see is Shouto lunging towards you and him yelling your name. Your first name.

[wroammin]

a hero’s welcome

word count: 1445

warnings: self-loathing, panic attacks, crying, slight gore (because remus)

summary: roman hides out in his room after the events of putting others first. the other sides try to show him how much he’s missed in their own special ways.

once again, happy birthday to the man, the myth, the himbo: roman sanders

it takes weeks for roman to come out of his room after janus reveals his name.

the others worry almost constantly about his well-being, but after multiple failed attempts at convincing him to come out for movie nights, video recordings, or even just food, they can only hope that roman will come around on his own eventually.

and he does. slowly.

it starts with a few missing disney movies from the TV cabinet, a half-eaten jar of logan’s off-limits crofter’s (which both logan & remus swear they did not touch) left mysteriously on the kitchen counter, and then, on one particularly late night for logan, a brief, silent encounter with a bleary-eyed prince in search of a cup of water.

logan notices roman is looking more bedraggled than bedazzled, with wrinkles running all across his costume and dark-colored bags under his eyes that are eerily reminiscent of virgil’s eyeshadow.

no words are exchanged, but as logan carefully hands roman a glass which he’s filled nearly to the brim, roman knows no words are necessary. he can practically recite logan’s self-care spiel by memory anyway.

eventually, the disney movie collection in the TV cabinet dwindles down to a Frozen DVD (which they’d all recently rewatched anyway), and the old, dusty VHS copy of Black Cauldron (which roman’s never particularly liked). seeing as it’s his personal favorite disney movie, virgil tries not to feel too offended by that.

what virgil can’t stop himself from feeling, however, is worry. it’s not an unfamiliar feeling to him, of course, but it doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable.

he tries all of the usual things to calm his nerves: sitting on strange surfaces, fiddling with a fidget cube, rewatching The Nightmare Before Christmas, napping excessively, and—naturally—blasting music through his bulky headphones.

but even with My Chemical Romance screaming out of his speakers, virgil simply can’t ignore the alarming absence of that familiar, sash-framed figure. 

despite his quarrelsome quips with the prince, virgil can admit that there’s always been a certain... comfort to hearing roman’s boisterous voice belting broadway ballads down the halls, or seeing him dash off on another adventure to defeat the dragon witch for the umpteenth time. 

it’s when virgil’s sullenly staring at roman’s usual spot, in the corner of his room, that an idea suddenly strikes him. 

the next morning, roman sneaks down to the living room in the early hours of the day after deciding that rewatching Frozen (again) doesn’t sound so bad after all. he opens the movie cabinet to find a bit of a surprise in the form of a The Nightmare Before Christmas DVD with a scrap of paper taped hastily to the cover. the chicken scratch scrawled onto the sheet is hard to decipher, but he manages to see it reads:

“i have my own backup copy and i’ll hit play at 8pm tonight. you can do it too, so then we can sort of watch the movie together. i’ll let you pick tomorrow’s movie, if you want to, but fyi i will be picking black cauldron the next time it’s my turn. -virgil”

roman smiles subtly as he makes his way back up to his room, the first flicker of joy he’s felt in a while.

he sits down to watch the movie at 8pm, just like virgil instructed. 

for the next night, he chooses aladdin, and for the night after that, he begrudgingly agrees to watch black cauldron. 

twenty minutes into the film, virgil hears a haste knock at his door. before he even knows what’s happening, roman is shuffling inside and curling up on the couch next to him. 

unsurprisingly, the tired prince falls asleep before the movie finishes. surprisingly, virgil doesn’t actually mind all that much. 

meanwhile, patton has nearly eaten his way through the entire cookie stock in the pantry.

it’s not a healthy coping mechanism for his sadness, he knows, but it’s not like he can just go and ask roman to conjure up some puppies for him instead. patton sniffles at the thought, which serves as a painful reminder of how roman was always there for him when he was feeling down, and how patton can’t do the same for him now.

the others hold an intervention for him after logan finds him sobbing over some reheated spaghetti because it made him think of roman. virgil then explains how he’s been watching movies with roman, and how patton can leave some snacks for the prince in the cabinet along with a note if he wants to send a message. 

that very night, patton stays up past midnight to prepare some spaghetti with extra, extra love (& cumin) for roman. he draws him a card and writes a message inside, then sticks it to the top of the tupperware container containing the spaghetti using glitter glue. 

upon discovering patton’s care package beside virgil’s usual note inside the cabinet, roman feels his mood suddenly shift.

he thinks of the days he spent sobbing for hours inside of his room and staring in the mirror and pacing back and forth and staring in the mirror and laying on his bed and staring in the mirror and working through the tears and staring in the mirror and then slicing a line clean through the mirror with his sword and watching his reflection split in two.

those weren’t good days.

but then he thinks of patton’s pleading, hopeful voice whenever he would call him down for movie nights, video recordings, or food.

maybe patton wasn’t lying when he said roman was loved. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see him and the others out in the open again. maybe there were better days ahead.

remus, however, doesn’t wait around for roman to feel better. as always, he continuously swings by his brother’s room whenever he feels like it and leaves whenever he pleases.

still, his visits aren’t as fun anymore. perhaps he just doesn’t have the energy, but roman no longer bothers to shriek at remus to get out of his room or to push remus off his desk when he drapes himself across it.

not even the severed, mutilated head that remus kindly leaves on roman’s pillow elicits its usual slew of creative curse words, so the duke decides to step up his game.

he skips casually into roman’s room one late afternoon, lazily swinging his morning star at his side and whistling a jaunty tune. as usual, roman doesn’t spare him a single glance. he’s staring down at some kind of crayon-covered card.

it only takes one hit to knock roman out, but dragging him into the living room is a much more difficult process.

the other sides are already waiting, just like janus promised they would be. they rush over and prop roman up on the couch. patton gives remus a few reprimanding words, virgil sends him a couple scowls, and even logan looks on with more disapproval than usual, but they quickly forget their anger at him as soon as roman groans groggily and slowly blinks open his eyes.

remus takes that as his cue to leave. janus is waiting at the top of the stairs.

“so you’re sure that this plan of yours is going to work?”

janus scoffs. “of course i am. though, have you considered that perhaps you’re just not as annoying to your brother anymore?”

“have you considered that perhaps i could start leaving chopped heads on your pillow instead if your ‘master plan’ fails?” remus shoots him the prettiest, toothiest smile he can muster.

janus’ expression darkens. “well. i suppose it’s a good thing i’m certain it will work, then.”

the sound of laughter bubbles up from the living room. janus doesn’t bother to hide his satisfied smirk.

“i’ll say, when you told me you could help me get roman back to normal, forcing him to attend a party was not what i had in mind.”

“do i even want to know what you had in mind?” janus gives him a quick side glance.

remus’ eyes light up. “well–”

“rhetorical question, remus. ugh, maybe i should start saying ‘figuratively’, as well. anyway, yes, i thought it was about time roman stopped sulking. so, what better way to get him out of his room than by having a, uh, hero’s welcome of sorts for him?”

“well, i got him out of his room by dragging him by his feet.”

janus sighs, wondering why he even opens his mouth to speak anymore. 

his plan better work.

though, judging by the sound of patton and logan’s exhasperated sighs as roman and virgil argue over which movie to watch, he has the sneaking suspicion it will.

[wiseabsol]

Let’s talk about why it’s a bad idea if Karrin Murphy’s fate is final.

Some quotes to consider:

pg. 217: “See that this warrior is laid in state,” [Mab] said, and moved her head in a curt gesture toward the Bean. “She has shared our enemies and earned our respect, and so shall it be known amongst my vassals and to the furthest reaches of my kingdom.”

pg. 366: “You tell Odin that Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden says, upon his Name, that if he doesn’t treat Murph better than I would myself, I’m going to kick down his door, pluck his fucking ravens, knock him down, kick his guts out, drag him to the island, and lock him up in a cell with Ethniu [ . . . ] I beat a divine being once [ . . . ] If I have to build a nation to get it done, I’ll do it again.”

pg. 366: Gard shook her head. “Not until the memory of her has faded from the minds of those who knew her. That is the limit not even the All-father may cross.”

So what points can we draw from this?

- According to Gard, Murphy cannot return to Earth until her memory has faded from the minds of those who knew her. This, presumably, includes immortals, whose memories last for a very long time. If this is truly the case, then Murphy cannot participate in the BAT. She and Hendricks will be benched for Ragnarok. In short: Murphy is fucked. 

- Dresden has sealed away a Titan and is willing to do the same to a god. He is currently planning to build his own magical community. Would it really be that surprising if he is willing and able to do something that a god cannot in a future book? Especially when, as mentioned above, Murphy is fucked?

But let’s unpack this more:

First, let’s look at this from a writing standpoint. Why does this rule need to be in place? The short answer is that Butcher is covering his bases. Once we, the readers, learn that Odin has snatched Murphy’s body and is making her into an einherjar, we feel a burst of hope and relief. After all, we’ve seen einherjar before, so doesn’t that mean that we can look forward to Murphy returning at a later date?

Butcher doesn’t want us to think that, though. He wants us to feel as though she’s gone forever...even though we know that the BAT, aka Ragnarok, is coming up, and the einherjar are destined to fight in it. So how does he try to throw us off? He comes up with something that feels...contrived. Something that isn’t a part of the einherjar myth. “She can’t come back! Because--because everyone has to forget about her first! Yes, that’s it! Her fate is final because of this rule I’m only just now saying is a thing!”

But why should we buy this? This is a series in which Dresden is constantly pushing past his own limitations and the roadblocks placed in front of him, and where other characters aren’t afraid to do the same. It’s a series in which the rules are set up to be broken in creative ways (zombie T-Rex, anyone?). Even reality itself can be shattered (and why set that up in Battle Ground if you’re not going to do it in the BAT?).

Aside from that, though, if Murphy really is gone, then we’re left with some problems:

1. Murphy’s death is pointless. As much as Butcher tries to have the characters say that she died fighting a Jotun, she didn’t. She was killed on accident by a scared cop. That’s not satisfying. It could have been if it had more set-up across multiple books, and if Murphy had spent some time grappling with poorly trained officers and cases of police brutality (maybe even cases in which she’d gone too far). But the Dresden Files is stuck in the 90′s in a lot of ways, complete with valourizing “good cops” like Murphy and chalking up “bad cops” like Rudolph to a weakness of character, rather than admitting that there’s a problem with the institution as a whole. In short: This isn’t even political commentary on Butcher’s part. It adds absolutely nothing to the series. 

2. Odin making Murphy into an einherjar is arguably a Fate Worse Than Death for her, rather than a reward. Why? First, her Catholic faith has been ignored. Her soul is not going to the god she chose (did Odin even ask her if she wanted to go to Valhalla? Did Murphy consider it an honor?). Second, everyone she knows and loves will have to die before she can fight again--and what’s the point of her fighting then? Third, she will be forced to sit out of Ragnarok/the BAT. So Odin, in addition to doing a disservice to Murphy, would be benching a warrior during the End Times. How does that make strategic sense? Also, if he’s not going to use his shiny new einherjar, why make her into one at all? Why not just let her be buried and let her soul go to her own god?

3. How much agency does Murphy have in this scenario? Would she really accept the above rule and choose to not help her friends with her new powers? Does that sound like her?

4. If Murphy stays gone, it means that yet another woman has been written out of the story to give Dresden manpain. That’s exhausting, especially considering how poorly Butcher has treated his female characters in the past. Losing Murphy, who is arguably our main female character, feels like adding insult to injury after what happened with Susan, Molly, Lash, and so many others. Why should female readers keep reading a series in which almost every woman character is tortured, killed, or transformed against their will?  

5. Murphy and Marcone were the last important vanilla mortals. If she’s gone for good, then between that and Marcone now being magical, we are left with a series in which normal people--including those with disablilites--can’t survive and make a difference in the fight between magical forces. They’re victims to be protected by Dresden--and thus don’t have agency--or canon fodder if they do get involved. While I suspect that Randy will act as their voice in future books, losing both Murphy and the non-magical Marcone is a blow that I’m not sure the series can recover from. As one reader put it, it’s hard for us to see ourselves in this world anymore, considering that there are no characters like us left in it. Granted, this is a problem even if Murphy returns as an einherjar. But Murphy didn’t have to die in this book, so this problem could have been avoided.   

6. And on a more petty note: Teasing a Dresden and Murphy relationship for ten+ books, and then throwing it away in one, is a nasty thing to do to the readers who were invested in that subplot. “Characters in happy relationships aren’t compelling” is also a weak excuse for doing it, considering that those characters have more to fight for when the world is ending. Finally, just to point out something small: Murphy had sex with Dresden for the first time on the evening of Day 1 of the peace talks, then died on the morning of Day 4. That’s not cool. Butcher can do better.

[scarlet--wiccan]

(1/?) The MCU is going on a specific direction and might touch Wanda's history of mental illness. Maybe talk about that when you have the time? Wanda was going on a nice direction before all that happened.

Whew! Sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this— I have several super-long message chains like this one in my inbox and they’re hard to parse through and harder still to write a real answer for. I’m gonna try through a couple of these today.

Well, I think you hit all the important points here-- the optics of a mixed-raced family of first- and second- gen Holocaust survivors committing mass acts of terrorism, becoming rulers of a fascist, supremacist regime, and then, finally, committing pseudo-genocide, are, you know, not great. These are complicated characters whose representation can easily swing in either really positive or really, really negative directions, but this goes beyond the pale for me, especially given the proximity to 9/11.

The portrayal of Wanda's mental illness during this time, while not wholly unsympathetic, is wildly inaccurate and generally played as a horror motif. I'm not an expert on schizophrenia, but I think we can all agree that it's high time we moved past exploiting sick and disabled people's experiences for cheap scares. It's especially frustrating because Wanda, as a character, does have ground for poignant stories about mental illness-- she's had numerous traumatic experiences, starting with generational trauma and a lifetime of violent discrimination, and ending, at that point, with the deaths of her young children and the abrupt dissolution of her marriage. Her mental health should be addressed, but not in a way that demonizes illness or characterizes sick people as villains. One thing I appreciate about Robinson's Scarlet Witch is that it represents her mental illness in a very human, matter of fact manner and gives her the power to take control of her own wellness. She has realistic symptoms and pursues realistic treatments, instead of, you know, making hallucination constructs and getting mind-probed by Charles fucking Xavier.

Wanda is simultaneously infantilized and vilified in these stories-- she's denied agency at every turn, and yet, Wolverine and the other "heroes" of this saga view her with unbridled contempt, and most of them are immediately ready to murder her in the name of justice, even before the "no more mutants" spell was cast. You wondered how Bendis was able to inspire such a long lasting hatred of Wanda, and I think the simple answer is that almost every character in House of M hates Wanda. The characters you root for, the characters whose perspectives dictate the tone of the story, direct palpable fury towards her, and even those who aren't out for her blood don't extend any actual empathy towards her-- most are ambivalent to her wellbeing, while Xavier and Strange are incredibly paternalistic.

The final spell, "no more mutants", has baffled me for years. You're spot-on in saying that Wanda here represents a self-hating minority, but it's really hard for me to understand how she could have reached that point. It's not consistent with her previous characterization, nor is it thematically connected to the factors which led to her breakdown. Bendis places the onus of her condition on Erik, alleging that he abandoned and abused his children in his fanatic commitment to the mutant cause, which, besides being a willful misinterpretation of canon, has nothing to do with Wanda's current circumstance-- she's like this because Agatha Harkness altered her memories, because the Avengers continuously gaslit her, and becaue Mephisto killed her kids in the first place. It has nothing to do with Magneto, and Wanda's breakdown has nothing to do with mutant politics. She and Pietro were raised in a loving family until their adoptive parents were killed by racists. Erik didn't knowingly abandon them, and while he did mistreat them during the Brotherhood days, it wasn't parental abuse because he wasn't a father figure to them-- neither party had any idea they were related. Bendis is evoking specific forms of trauma that never actually happened, while ignoring the ones that did, and the effects of the spell itself are vague and seemingly random.

~~~~~

Young Avengers does call back to Wanda's circumstances in Disassembled and HoM, but it doesn't execute the concept of reality-warping in the same way. The driving force in YA is the spell which Billy casts, and Loki tampers with, in the first issue. It is a spell which distorts reality, but it has specific parameters, and neither party is characterized as "crazy" the way Wanda was. The spell was intended to bend space and time so that Billy could pull Teddy's mom from the past, before she was killed, into the present-- it's not dissimilar from how Wanda "retroactively reincarnated" her kids. Due to Loki's interference, however, the spell was hijacked by an interdimensional parasite called Mother. The Mother virus appears primarily as a construct of Teddy's mom, but as her influence over the Earth-616 dimension grows, she's able to create constructs of other dead parents, and even mind-control living adults. All of the ways in which reality is being warped hinge on the specific conditions under which Mother was summoned, and while it is Billy's magic that's fueling these constructs and distortions, they aren't symptoms of psychosis-- Billy doesn't lose control of his magic because he's losing his mind, he loses control because he's too young and inexperienced to protect himself from predatory forces. Those forces do take advantage of his depression and anxiety, but his condition is never the cause.

Loki's magic is wrapped up in the spell, too, but rather than conjuring dead parents, it emerges as a construct of their former best friend, Leah. Loki, in Young Avengers, is a mashup of two personae-- the reincarnated child Loki, and Ikol, a phantom of their past life who is carrying out the previous Loki's evil will even though their heart isn't in it. Ikol has mostly overshadowed Loki, who has been reduced to a ghost that torments Ikol by acting as a constant reminder of their guilt. Ikol is haunted by their past, but it's important that this haunting is a nuanced metaphor and not literal hallucination, as Wanda's condition was in HoM. Because Loki's power is part of the spell, Kid Loki's ghost is able to hijack the reality distortions to summon the construct of Leah, who, in turn, is able to summon the Young Avengers' other exes, the same way that Mother, in the form of Teddy's dead mom, can summon other dead parents.

Loki does raise the question of whether or not Billy might be subconsciously influencing Teddy with his powers, but this is clearly illustrated as a manipulation tactic and disproven several times. Loki's original goal in summoning Mother was to draw out Billy's full magical potential so that they could steal his power for themselves. Driving a wedge between Billy and Teddy, and causing Billy to question his own sanity, were devices to make Billy more susceptible to having his power stolen, and they worked-- Billy is not able to divest his magic from the spell and banish Mother from Earth-616 until he overcomes his self-doubt and start exercising mindfulness. Loki, in turn, is not able to divest their power from the spell and banish Leah and the other exes until they own up to their guilt and admit everything they've done. Both characters are experiencing symptoms of exacerbated mental illness-- Billy's depression and suicidal ideation, Loki's disassociation-- but their mental illness is not the source of their magic, but a challenge which makes it harder for them to live as their fully realized selves... just as it would be for any normal person.

I know that was a long-winded explanation, but I wanted to illustrate what sets Gillen's take on "reality warping" apart from Bendis's. It's based on clearly though-out ideas of how magic works and what defines "reality" in a world populated by parallel universes and living myth-forms. Gillen affords Loki and Billy a degree of sympathy without denying them agency, and Loki is held accountable for their decisions without being painted as a total monster. Bendis, meanwhile, characterizes Wanda's magic as delusion made real, and completely vilifies her for her illness in spite of the fact that she's given no control over her actions.

[oreolesbian]

the rescue

The silence was piercing. 

It wasn’t the first time they had been in a desperate situation, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but Din had felt the sheer strength of the dark trooper nearly piercing through his helmet. He had suffered under the power of only one, let alone an armada. 

Gideon, as pompous and arrogant as he was, was almost right to laugh. To triumph over their failed attempt to overtake him. 

They had the darksaber, the beskar staff—they at least had a chance. 

Din glanced over at Fennec, usually a beacon of confidence, and watched her hands white-knuckling her blaster. 

Mandalorians are good at killing. That’s what everyone said. Piled on top of all the other myths and stories about his people. Yet they were struggling to bring themselves back, to restore order to their cursed planet. 

The darksaber, still in his hand from where Bo refused to take it, grew heavier. 

The doors were banging in harder, and harder, and harder, until—

“Incoming craft, identify yourself.” Bo was leaning over the comms channel, staring intently at the grainy footage of an X-wing coming their way. 

Din frowned over his own terminal, seeing the same footage. The New Republic had no reason to know they were here. 

Grogu cooed from his position on the floor. 

It wasn’t until Fennec commented that he even noticed the banging had halted. 

Gideon looked frozen to the floor in a mix of awe and terror. Assume I know everything. But did he know this? This...shadow coursing through the halls? This—

“A Jedi?” Bo breathed, drawing everyone’s attention.

Indeed, it was. If the bathing green light of the lightsaber was any indication. 

The stranger swept through the droids without a moment’s hesitation, a vengeful angel cloaked with an unfathomable amount of power. Din had seen the things Grogu had done: the healing, the levitating, the trances. All of it was powerful and beyond his understanding, but this. 

He had never felt more entranced. He had seen the other Jedi, Ahsoka, move, but only from a distance. One could only assume, like the stories spread about the Mandalorians, that the ones of the Jedi were elaborated as well. After all, they had been wiped out. Surely beings of such immense capability, of such terror-inducing godly abilities, could not be killed. 

This one definitely couldn’t. His blade swept easily through the monstrous machines, his hood neatly over his head as he twisted the blade and crushed the metal innards with nothing but his mind. Sparks of blaster fire swiveled around the hallways, blurring the footage, but it mattered not. 

It was as if the galaxy was put on stand still, holding its breath as the Jedi grew closer and closer, enough time to allow Gideon, in his true showing of character and pure panic, to roll and fire at Bo. 

She dropped the ground with a pained grunt, her armor blocking the fire, but leaving Grogu exposed. 

Din wasted no time. He dove in the line of fire, taking in more hits to his armor before the others could take Gideon out. 

He turned to check on the kid, only to find him on top of the terminal, leaning over the screen with a small, three-fingered claw leaning longingly over the figure of the Jedi. The two of them stared at each other.

They had been through so much. But Din knew this was his goal. To get the child to his people. To keep him safe. And he was no fool. He saw what lingered in those big black eyes, so innocent yet so wise. 

Longing.

He turned to Fennec. “Open the doors.”

She whirled on him, eyes wild. It was obviously everybody’s first time seeing a Jedi in their full glory. No matter his good intentions, they were all scared. 

“I said, open the doors.”

She tightened her hold on her blaster, sharing a look with Cara while still trained on the blast doors. “Are you crazy?”

She made no move towards the buttons. Huffing, Din did it himself, allowing himself a hardening breath before allowing the Jedi a path straight to them, the eerie green glow easing into the bridge amongst the smoke and debris of the decimated dark troopers. 

The lightsaber deactivated with a steady hiss before being clipped back onto its home on the man’s belt. With gentle movements, the hands—one gloved, one not—tossed back the hood, revealing a face much younger than they had expected. 

His hair was a darkened blonde, a mop over his blue eyes, and his face was passive, as if he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes effortlessly cutting down into the dark troopers. 

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, holding his head high despite his trepidation. 

Then, the unexpected happened. The man smiled. 

“I am.” His voice was soft. He held out his hand. The others shifted their blasters in preparation, drawing a chuckle. “At ease. I come as a friend. My name is Luke Skywalker.” He nodded towards Grogu. “He called for me.”

“The kid called for you?” Kaska echoed in disbelief. 

“Through the Force,” Din said, watching Luke’s smile grow wider. 

Cara spoke next, her voice almost hoarse in her shock and her blaster dipped low. “Wait, the Skywalker? The one that killed the Emperor?”

Luke’s head dipped. “That is a story that’s been told, yes.” Din noted a brief hesitation on his face before looking back at Grogu, who was peeking curiously around a chair. 

Luke caught sight of him and softened, dropping to his knees and extending a hand out. “Hello, little one. It’s nice to meet you.”

Din felt a surge of protection, stepping closer to the kid and ready to fight the Jedi, no matter how powerful he was. He continued to be caught off guard as Luke continued smiling at him. 

“You’ve become close to him. He spoke fondly of you.”

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Din croaked, knowing it was a lie the minute he said it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to protect the kid, to bring him to his people. Luke was his people. But after losing him, he couldn’t help but want to hold on a little bit longer, to maybe hold out and believe that he could keep the kid around. 

He watched Luke nod slowly, his eyes impossibly understanding. “And he does not have to if he chooses. I only came to offer my aid. I will respect his decision and yours, whatever it may be.”

Then he rose back to a stand, curling his hands at his waist. Grogu continued to coo, catching both of their attentions. Luke continued to smile, but there was something more behind it, a sadness, a memory of some kind that the kid was pulling up. 

Din couldn’t get over the Jedi’s age, how a face that young surely couldn’t have been around for the purges like Ahsoka had been. And yet, if his abilities hadn’t shown enough, he had gone through much more just to be here in this moment. Which was how it clicked.

Luke needed Grogu as much as Grogu needed him. 

If the Jedi were to truly return to the galaxy, they needed to be around each other, to share their knowledge amongst one another, to feel safe. 

He sighed. 

Luke cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed curiously. “I believe he wants your permission to go.”

“My permission?” Din stared at Grogu incredulously. 

“Like I said, he cares about you.” Luke stepped forward, offering a sympathetic look. “I know you have no reason to trust a stranger, but I swear to protect him with my life. He is strong in the Force, but talent is nothing without training. He can stay here with you, but if you truly want him to be safe, he needs to master his abilities. I can help him with that.”

Din glanced between the two Force-users, overwhelmed. He knew, more than anything, about sticking with your own kind. Being a Mandalorian was everything to him, his blood. Being without his own, to see so many imposters, to see the sacrilege on the very name of his people by others who would never even come close to understanding… 

He lifted Grogu into his arms, stroking one of the big ears. “You...have my permission, Grogu. You belong with him. He’s one of your kind.” He swallowed. “I’ll see you again. I promise.”

He looked to Luke to confirm his promise, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders as Luke nodded warmly. 

The clawed hand was suddenly back, and pawing at his helmet. Din’s throat felt tight, and he couldn’t stop the sudden warmth behind his eyes. Just as he moved to lower Grogu down, he noticed Luke turning his head, his eyes lowered. Unbeknownst to him, Luke had first-hand experience with the gripping private moment that included revealing a long-hidden face, for he had been one of the only ones to truly know Vader’s face, to hold him as he lay dying. A final goodbye. 

Grogu pulled at his helmet once more. 

Din gave a shaky smile before allowing himself to snap the armor back, just enough to where they could see each other. Just them—Grogu and Din. No one else in the galaxy mattered.

Then the tiny hand was at his face, brushing along the weeks-old stubble with a bubbling curiosity. Din chuckled. “Alright, buddy. It’s time to go.”

Another gurgle. 

He snapped his helmet back into place before lowering Grogu to the ground, his arms still looped around his boots. Luke turned back with another polite smile, before startling as a figure bumped into his legs from behind him, whistling excitedly.

Luke laughed. “Grogu, this is Artoo. He’ll be coming with us too, if that’s alright.”

Din almost laughed with him when Grogu spun around, entranced by the lights on the astromech droid. He cooed as he waddled over to him, further and further away from Din. 

Luke kneeled once more, allowing Grogu time before lifting him up into his arms in a gentle cradle. 

Then, the blue eyes were back on Din, serious and determined, yet kind. “Thank you for trusting me, Din. Please, if you need anything, I’ll be there.” He turned to the entire group, humbled by their awe-stricken looks. “May the Force be with all of you.”

And then, as quick as he had arrived, he was gone, leaving Din to stare and ponder how the mysterious man had known his name.