#Moon Blossom Nightmare

[lovekia]

[assriels]

mamma mia!

pairing: cassian x reader x azriel

summary: cassian has loved and longed for you for as long as he can remember, despite your long established relationship with his brother. he teeters on the edge of giving up on the idea of you ever loving him back. until…

(heavily inspired by ripley’s rendition of the original abba song)

warnings: angsty cassian, cass’s inner musings and monologue, very slightly alludes to sexual content

word count: 2.5k

a/n: first writing post on this silly little sideblog of mine :’) toying with the idea of a pt. 2 but i’m not too sure yet & credit to cafekitsune for the cute banner!

Cassian had never been so completely and utterly in love with anyone the way he was with you. One look at you smiling up at him made golden bells ring in his head, reverberating in his chest and filling his limbs with a tingling urgency to hold you. The feel of your skin and body slotting perfectly against his made the world stop spinning on its axis, leaving him lightheaded with sheer bliss. You incapacitated him in a way that not even the most fearsome of enemies he’s faced have before.

But you were not his. You would never be his.

You were Azriel’s through and through.

Though he would never think to scorn his brother for finding love, Cassian had asked himself on countless occasions…Why did it have to be with you?

You, who he would shun the very moon and stars his court cherished for. You, who could bring him to his knees with a simple brush of your fingers against his hand. You, who he wanted so intrinsically but could not have.

When he brought you to the townhouse all those decades ago, he had never once thought feelings like this would develop for you. At the time, he had just thought you a skilled fighter, one who could be trained and honed for the advantage of the Night Court. You were his friend and training partner. Someone he could shoot the shit with at the end of a long day, someone who listened and empathized and cared for him in a way no one else had before.

Cassian wasn’t entirely sure when he started realizing that his feelings for you ran deeper than friendship. He presumed he had begun to become aware of them after he had told you the story of his mother and you cried for him, looked into his eyes and told him you saw him.

He knew for sure he loved you after you had come to him in the middle of the night once, waking him to train. You had hit harder than you ever had before in between telling him of your own losses and suffering, cueing him into the nightmares that often plagued you because of them. That night he had stayed up with you until day broke over the horizon, exchanging stories and laughter and tears.

It was that night that he had unwittingly begun planning his future around you. He thought he had all the time in the world to explore these newfound feelings, wanted to let them simmer and develop with the beautiful slow burn courting that you deserved. He had wanted to take his time to do things right, show you just how much he cherished you, how much you held his devotion in the palm of your hand.

Cassian knew himself, and knew he fell hard and fast, and he never wanted to risk ruining things with you until he was absolutely certain you felt the same. But, if Cassian could turn back time, he’d kick his own ass and tell himself to just fucking tell you.

He never stood a chance, though. Not when you looked at Azriel like he had hand placed every star in the sky for you.

Initially, Cassian had been so blinded by his own infatuation with you that he failed to see the burgeoning love between you and Azriel. What he once thought was camaraderie between you blossomed into something much, much more. And it wasn’t until you had confessed to Cassian during one of your nightly training sessions that you felt crazy for falling for the Shadowsinger did Cassian finally piece everything together.

The lingering gazes, the pink cheeks, the brushing of hands beneath the table when you thought no one was looking.

It was all right in front of his face and he felt humiliatingly moronic for not noticing it sooner. His best friend — brother — and the love of his life, falling together like two pieces of a puzzle. He had felt his heart shatter that night, unable to respond to your heartfelt confession. You had taken it as confirmation that he thought you were crazy, that Azriel could never feel the same way that you did, and panicked. Cassian had been quick to assuage your fears, telling you that Azriel would be the insane one if he didn’t feel the same way, that you were more than Azriel could have ever dreamed of having in his lifetime.

Looking back on it now, he supposed he was confessing his own love to you. In a twisted, cruel sort of way, hoping that you’d see he was speaking of his own feelings rather than Azriel’s, that he was so desperately wanting to give himself to you the way you were eager to give yourself to his brother.

Part of him regretted placating you, and he wondered what might have been different if he had lied and said Azriel didn’t feel the same way. But he knew that would hurt you, and though he could be selfish, he loved you too much to ever be the source of your anguish.

Cassian would rather tear himself to shreds than make you cry.

And so he stood on the sidelines for the first time since becoming General of the Night Court and watched you fall hopelessly in love with Azriel.

It pained him to admit it, but the love you and Azriel shared was one for the legends. More nights than not, Cassian had willingly tormented himself, asking Azriel of the state of your relationship. Cassian had listened with rapt attention — desperate to gain any morsel of you that he could — as Azriel waxed poetic about how perfect and lovely you were. That he would quite literally go to war for the way you smiled at him, a sentiment that Cassian so deeply empathized with that he wanted to rip his hair out. Azriel loved you so completely, though — maybe even in ways that Cassian himself had never done — and he’d do anything to preserve your happiness.

Everyone else saw it, too. Said it was only a matter of time before the mating bond snapped into place. And when it did, it would be a nail in Cassian’s coffin, cementing his feelings beneath an ironclad lockbox six feet under.

But it hadn’t snapped yet, and Cassian could continue living in his self-indulgent fantasy of you for a little bit longer. Over the years, his love ebbed and flowed, sometimes almost disappearing before rearing its head in full force. But for the most part, he kept it under lock and key, watching with an aching heart as you and Azriel fell deeper in love with each passing moment.

Even now as he looked on at you and Azriel, cozied up on the balcony watching the array of stars pass during Starfall, Cassian didn’t let so much as an eye twitch give way to his true feelings. You and Azriel truly were a sight to behold; two of the most beautiful fae in the Night Court — probably all of Prythian — illuminated by the light of the stars. The thought made Cassian sigh, unable to tear his gaze away from you so beautiful, looking at another male with so much adoration twinkling in your eyes. He looked and looked even though it was shredding every last bit of dignity he had.

You said something that made Azriel toss his head back in laughter, your own tinkling chuckle winding with his in a beautiful symphony that curled around Cassian’s ears mockingly. He watched as Azriel placed a firm kiss to your forehead, muttering something against your skin that made you blush. He was sure it was something complimentary (and maybe even a bit lewd), what with how you looked tonight. And Cassian didn’t blame his brother one bit for wanting to let you know just how captivating you looked. Dress shimmering under the starlight, you were radiant, a perfect imitation of the stars streaking across the blackened sky.

Cassian’s hazel gaze slid to the curve of your back where he found Azriel’s ringed fingers teasingly playing with the zipper there, his lips pressed to the crown of your hair, no doubt whispering the fantasies and plans he had for the two of you once the night ended. Cassian forced his thoughts away from the image of you bare and wanting on the plush sheets of your bed, reaching up to skate your fingers across the tattoos on Azriel’s chest.

It was a sight he’d move Heaven and Earth to see, even if it were through his brother’s eyes. Even if he knew you’d never look at him the way he so desperately wished you could.

The ache of pining lingered deep in Cassian’s chest and he snapped himself out of his longing. He was being ridiculous, he thought. You and Azriel had been together for years — it must’ve been at least a decade by now. It was about time that Cassian had started the painful ascent from his fall for you all those decades ago.

Cassian knocked the rest of his drink back, and resolved to enjoy Starfall with you and the rest of his family despite the complicated stir of emotions that had plagued him for decades. But before he could turn and find Mor or Amren or Rhys, you were approaching him, two empty champagne glasses balanced between your fingers.

You smiled at him and he felt his chest tighten at the exhilarating urge to feel it against his own lips, “Enjoying Starfall, Cass?”

“Not as much as you, clearly,” he said with a wink, gesturing to the glasses in your hand. “That’s gotta be…what? Your sixth glass tonight?”

Teasing you like he always had came easy. No matter how he felt about you, you were still his dear friend, something he valued above almost everything else; he could put his love for you aside for right now.

You rolled your eyes and swatted at him playfully, “Seventh, actually. And I’m here to collect my eighth.”

You weren’t as drunk as Cassian thought you were, but you were pleasantly lightheaded, feeling floaty as you maneuvered around the room. A heady feeling of light relaxation settled in your bones. But maybe you were drunker than you thought, as one staggering, misplaced step had you stumbling over the hem of your dress.

Before you could fall and knock the entire table of faerie wine over, Cassian caught your elbow and steadied you. You turned to him, sheepishly offering him thanks and making a joke about your state of intoxication and lack of coordination.

Cassian didn’t hear any of what you said, though. Only felt the electrifying pulse of your skin beneath his fingers and a persistent tug beneath his ribcage. It was like something whipped into place, and he heard those golden bells again, taunting him as the breath whooshed out of his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut with an iron fist.

Mate, the bells sung to him.

Cassian thought he would pass out, and by the look of concern that swiftly marred your beautiful countenance, he knew he looked the part.

“Cassian? Are you alright?”

He let go of your elbow so swiftly that if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you burnt him. He shook his head, schooling his features back into his usual playful demeanor with practiced ease, “I think maybe I’ll take this off your hands before you fall into the Sidra next.”

The Mother — cruel, cruel thing — knew he needed it.

He plucked the faerie wine from your hands and chugged as Azriel approached. The cocktail of emotions he swallowed burned their way down his throat much more painfully than the alcohol, and his head spun in such a way that not even the hard liquor at Rita’s could emulate.

The shadowsinger wrapped a steadying arm around your waist and Cassian did his best to tame the roiling possession that threatened to cleave his ribs apart.

Truthfully, Cassian didn’t hear any of the conversation that he partook in with you and his brother; he could only hear the thundering of his pulse in his ears as he grappled with his revelation and the bittersweet feelings that came with it.

Wasn’t this what he’d been wanting this whole time? He should be happy, but he wasn’t.

His thoughts drifted to the past, hearing Azriel talking about you like you were an angel sent to deliver him from the clutches of earthly suffering. He remembered snippets, glimpsing into memories of his brother looking at you with a softness Cassian didn’t think he was capable of, recollections of him worshiping you in small, meaningful ways. It was the way Azriel was looking at you now, and Cassian felt a wicked, torturous twist in his gut.

In this moment more than any other, Cassian was cruelly reminded that while he loved you from afar for decades, Azriel had cultivated a life with you filled with passion and love and plans for the future.

The sound of your yawn broke Cassian out of his mental turmoil, demanding his attention once more. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at the cute way your nose scrunched when you yawned, sleepy tears collecting at the edges of your eyes. When he looked at you now, the noises echoing off the walls of the House were muted, muffled as his ears attuned to you and you alone.

You leaned into Azriel tiredly — something Cassian did his best to ignore — and fixed your gaze upon him.

“You should go and enjoy Starfall, Cass. You’ve been inside for the past hour,” you said, hints of fond amusement in your voice. “I heard that Feyre’s brought a friend that’s been dying to meet you.”

He knew you meant well, knew that you played matchmaker only because you wanted him to be happy and find the love that you knew existed. But your words and the conspiratorial wink you tossed his way, sent his heart into a painful spiral. Your encouragement that he put himself out there to find someone to love was a cruel reminder that you did not feel for him the way he felt for you.

“Maybe I’ll go find her, then,” Cassian responded, doing his best to maintain the nonchalant bantering tone everyone expected of him, despite knowing that you’d be going to bed with another male. His mate, happy in someone else’s — his brother’s — embrace.

It was only when Azriel led you away with a laugh and a quick goodnight in his direction did Cassian allow himself to loose the breath he was holding.

Mate, that persistent voice in his head whispered, which he pointedly ignored as he sauntered off to find Feyre, desperate to rid himself of the gnawing guilt and sick heartbreak that clawed at his chest.

Holy Mother above… the Cauldron was cruel and he was so fucked.

part 2

[shirecorn]

Shirecorn's Ponyverse Masterpost

So for the last 2 months I've fixated on doing redesigns based somewhat loosely on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I've had so much fun filling in the gaps and extrapolating until my version is less of a redesign and more of an AU.

"Ponies" are three species of sentient hoofed creatures that populate Equestria. They worship giant goddesses that fill the sky and ferry the moon and sun across the world.

Tag navigation

#Shire draws mlp - drawings only. Leaves out the lore

#Skyscraper gods lore - drawings, posts, and asks that expand on the world. Talks about biology, genetics, ritual, society, politics, religion, but mostly creature design and magic.

#Skyscraper Gods - Art, asks, posts, and fanart! Everything to do with both my little pony canon and my version of things. Includes drawings without lore, and lore without drawings. This is the tag to browse to make sure you see it all

Characters

In progress: Discord

○ The Mane Six ○ All Alicorns,

○ Rarity ○ Fluttershy ○ Flutterbat ○ Applejack ○ Pinkie Pie ○ Pinkie Pie Pegasus ○ Rainbow Dash ○ Twilight Sparkle ○ Raritwi ○ Spike

○ Princess Celestia + Princess Luna ○ Princess Cadance + Shining Armor + Flurry Heart ○ Sunset Shimmer ○ Sunburst ○ Apple Bloom + Scootaloo + Sweetie Belle (Cutie Mark Crusaders) ○ Big Macintosh/Ochard Blossom (she is a woman) ○ Granny Smith ○ Mr & Mrs Cake + Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake ○ Maud Pie + Mudbriar ○ Trixie Lulamoon + Starlight Glimmer ○ Cozy Glow ○ Zephyr Breeze ○ Escape Room Guy + Dusty Pages ○ Berry Punch/Berryshine ○ Vapor Trail ○ Bulk Biceps ○ Tempest Shadow ○ Flim and Flam ○ Queen Chrysalis + Thorax + Ocellus (Changelings) ○ Autumn Blaze (kirin) ○ Rain Shine (kirin leader) ○ Sky Beak (hippogriff) ○ Starcatcher and Skywishes (G3)

Lore

○ The 3 pony species ○ Breeding/genetics ○ The 4 Alicorns stories ○ Gods of non-pony species? Seapony god? ○ Unicorn Horns: Starlight physics, Different shapes, Alicorn horns, Horn colors, ○ Where did Spike come from? (1) (2) ○ Your daughter has won the favor of God (fic) ○ Nightmare moon playlist ○ Cutie marks are cultural not physical: (1) (2) ○ Starlight Glimmer's hometown and her cult ○ Alicorns don't fit inside buildings ○ Discord is a headache to behold ○ Government in the world of gods ○ Gender and matriarchy ○ Scootaloo's flightless disability ○ Equestria Girls Vs Skyscraper Gods, existential horror ○ Pinkie Pie breaks the forth wall because she hopped worlds once ○ Vampire fruit bat ecology and virus ○ How ponies caught it

Meta

○ Using Skyscraper Gods as inspiration (2) ○ Why I like expanding on MLP: its simplicity ○ MLP Creature designs are already good ○ If you don't like my designs ○ I'm just having fun: (1) (2) ○ Mane 6 doodle to finished design ○ After ponies ○ Designing based on birds and animals ○ Starcatcher dove

Shitposts and Doodles

○ My fursona in mlp style ○ Daytime! Nighttime! ○ Baby god ○ Local horse fistfights the sun ○ Shining armor alicorn ○ Sunset shimmer becomes god (2) ○ Poodle rarity ○ Zephyr Breeze thinks RD is a man ○ Season 9 ○ Why is EQ an hour long ○ Being held at gunpoint to watch Equestria Girls ○ World's gayest dash ○ 18 pounds of crake

Fanart by others

○ Fanart tag

Commissions

○ People request a lot and that normal ○ Prices are low because I'm already fixated

Ko-fi requests || Classic commissions

Shirecorn Discord

Join any tier of my patreon to access my art discord

○ See WIPs, discussion, the occasional meltdown, and more ○ The content is all done through discord, so if the patreon looks dead it's all just on the server instead.

I hope you enjoy seeing my MLP creations as much as I enjoy making them!

[naomeii]

Hello! I've got an angsty request:

Guizhong is absolutely convinced that Zhongli loves her in a romantic way, only to find out the hard way that he'll never love her like he loves you; the lady he spoiled and adored to this very day.

Truly yours.

—Pairings: Zhongli x Gn!Reader

Content: Death, angst, unrecruited feelings, drabble

☆instead of Guizhong perishing in the canon, it was you who perished.

The moon hung low in the Liyue sky as Zhongli awoke, drenched in cold sweat. The haunting nightmare had revisited him - the vivid image of you, battered and lifeless on the ground, his hands stained with your blood. He could still feel the weight of his spear dropping from his grasp as he knelt beside your limp form, crying out in anguish.

Zhongli glanced at the clock; it was nearly time to meet Guizhong. The two had grown closer after your passing, and she had misconstrued their connection as something more than a shared grief. Zhongli, though, remained stoic and composed as he washed away the remnants of the night's torment.

As he met Guizhong beneath the cherry blossom tree, she took a deep breath, her eyes revealing the nervous anticipation within her. "Zhongli," she began, "I cannot deny the feelings that have grown within me. Since we've spent so much time together, I thought… I thought you might feel the same way."

Zhongli's gaze softened, but his response was unwavering. "Guizhong, our connection is born of shared loss and companionship. I cannot reciprocate those feelings in the way you desire."

Her hopeful expression faded, replaced by a somber realization. "I see," she whispered, her eyes dropping to the ground.

Later, as she wandered through the quiet cemetery, she noticed Zhongli kneeling at your grave. Tears glistened in his eyes as he gently placed glaze lilies - your favorite flowers - on the cold stone. Guizhong's heart sank, realizing that you were the one Zhongli truly loved, adored, and spoiled.

Unable to bear the weight of unrequited love, she approached him. "Zhongli," she hesitated before continuing, "Do you ever wonder… if I were in their place instead, would things be different?"

Zhongli looked at her, his eyes reflecting both sorrow and determination. "No, Guizhong. Love cannot be forced or replaced. Each person holds a unique place in our hearts. What we shared, though meaningful, was different. And in honoring their memory, I must carry the weight of my feelings alone."

With those words, Zhongli returned his attention to your grave, leaving Guizhong to grapple with the reality that the love she sought would forever elude her.

[the-real-fandom-person]

SAGAU-related brainrot knocking around my skull lately: Lady Maria!Creator.

Noble, graceful, remorseful, powerful, melancholy, otherworldly Lady Maria. The Creator isn’t a pure and untouched soul, she’s a scarred and battle-hardened warrior, ridden with guilt. Trauma has made her cold, yet paradoxically gentle.

Teyvat makes lumenflowers blossom everywhere to herald Maria!Creator’s arrival. Big ones, small ones, towering ones, blooming after sundown alongside the glaze lilies. Even in extreme temperatures, the cold, pale flowers make themselves at home. Slotting peacefully into the local ecosystems without becoming invasive. 

The Pari and the Aranara wake up to find lumenwood groves just outside their respective homes. The Melusines become enamored with these new ‘moon blossoms’ sprouting throughout their village, even the parts that are completely underwater. Amurta students and Fontaine researchers scramble over each other to study this new species. Nilou makes M!C a lumenflower crown, and it replaces her hunter’s cap for the day. Nilou gets the first ever hug from the Creator. Suck it, Azar.

Albedo and Sucrose experiment on these new plants immediately. Xiangling is already using it in some strange new recipe, something Chongyun will actually eat for once. Tighnari, Ganyu, and Shenhe take curious bites out of a lumenflower cutting. The taste isn’t unpleasant, just incomparable to anything else in Teyvat.

Inazuma characters, especially Kazuha, are absolutely fascinated by the Rakuyo (and maybe a little jealous). So graceful is M!C with her strange weapon, so easily she wields it on the battlefield. Every blacksmith in Teyvat hears the words ‘trick weapon’ and takes it as a challenge. Many come close, but none can truly replicate the genuine articles. May they never have a true need for beast-slaying weapons.

Imposter AU? With one of Bloodborne’s toughest bosses? Laughable. RIP anyone stupid enough to try. And if there’s a fake Creator pulling the strings? Not after a quick visceral attack, there isn’t. M!C pulls a blood blade to cut down the imposter’s guards (she notices the stars in her blood that weren’t there before) and the imposter receives the most satisfying visceral ever. 

Up to this point M!C put no stock in the ‘god’ thing. All she sees is mad cult, led by a petty and jealous brat on a power trip. But then she sees the stars in her blood, hears the voice of Teyvat itself, puts two and two together and just… laughs hysterically, because this whole situation is patently ridiculous. Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church failed in their quests for ascension, their heinous crimes being all for naught. Now here she is, thrown headfirst into unwanted ‘godhood’ and getting hunted by her supposed worshipers. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Once people see the cosmos reflected in M!C’s blood, they fall over each other trying to apologize. Since she’s reached negative patience for everyone’s bullshit, she ignores them and fucks off to the Nightmare. After coming into Teyvat, M!C gained the power to enter and exit the Nightmare at will. The Nightmare doesn’t bend to her will, but it doesn’t treat her as an intruder. The Silverbeasts and Winter Lanterns don’t bat an eye at her presence. She’s a true denizen of both the waking world and the world of dreams, now. 

That night, every soul in Teyvat has the same nightmare - the Celestial gods attempting to forcibly summon the Creator, only to have themselves snatched from Celestia and dragged into a hostile, eldritch world of unfamiliar mish-mashed environments. At every turn, it is full of nightmarish creatures out for their blood. One by one, all but a select portion of Celestials become beast food, with M!C protecting the final ones herself.

Celestia, responsible for planting the fake Creator, falls from the sky the next day, its grand architecture reduced to mere rubble that rains from the heavens. Found amongst these ruins are the mangled, blood-drained and half-eaten bodies of Celestial gods. Spears made of blood impale many of the bodies, spears that seem to have sprouted from inside the flesh. Those that still have intact faces bear identical looks of horror. They find The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles in literal pieces - crushed and torn apart by hands that must have been the size of a grown man.

New stars and constellations appear in the night sky, as the illusion created by Celestia slowly fades. The curse placed on the people of Khaenriah gradually dissipates as well - the hillichurl tribes withdraw from the world, content to leave it alone. Every day, the curse lifts a little more from the people of Khaenriah; one day, Dainslief, Pierro and all the rest will finally be able to die. 

In Celestia’s place rises a second moon - a snow-white harvest moon, always full, large and visible even when clouds blanket the sky.

The Archons try to follow M!C into the Nightmare, but like Celestia, they get their shit wrecked by the denizens of the Frontier. The Archons don’t die for real, they’re just permanently cut off from the Nightmare. It takes Nahida, with dream powers of her own + Traveler and Wanderer in tow, to reach M!C and convince her to give the people of Teyvat a second chance. Nahida succeeds because she has the sense to treat M!C as a person, not some untouchable idol.

Sumeru is warm and welcoming, nothing like Yharnam or Cainhurst. M!C has fond memories from her time as a Byrgenwerth scholar, and the Akademiya feels like home. Sumeru becomes M!C’s preferred nation by default, to the pride of the locals and the despair of everyone else.

M!C has trouble wrapping her head around how mundane Teyvat’s supposed ‘gods’ are. Elemental powers or not, these Archons are too human to be divine; the only divinity M!C knows is eldritch, alien, far beyond mortal comprehension. The Traveler is fractionally closer to true godhood than any Archon. But then, just as the Great Ones were beyond human comprehension, so too are humans beyond the understanding of the Great Ones - perhaps it’s better for humans to have human gods.

Speaking of gods, M!C and Nahida bond over their dream-related powers. If this is before the climax of the Sumeru quest line, the Akademiya gets real quiet, especially when M!C publicly points out how asinine their logic is (she was closely associated with Byrgenwerth and Laurence, she knows their kind all too well). For all of his failures, all the disastrous consequences, Vicar Laurence at least had genuinely good intentions; these fools only care about themselves and preserving their own power. Scaramouche, Azar, the traitorous Sages - selfish, ignorant children all, meddling with forces they only pretend to understand. Crushing them herself is merciful compared to the other outcomes.

Through tactical manipulation of dream worlds, M!C busts Nahida out of baby jail long before Traveler and co. have to, and the Akademiya goes into panic mode because the Creator herself is coming for them. Traveler and co.’s plans turn instead to finding the hidden laboratory under Sumeru City - the combined power of dreams horrifically distorts the battlefield around the Shouki no Kami, even after his defeat. M!C doesn’t kill Azar after the fact, but she doesn’t let him go into exile empty-handed... because she cuts off his hands. Cyno is too unsettled to laugh.

Scaramouche resents her for her part in ruining his apotheosis (and because the Creator didn’t do shit for him in his tragically long life) but as the Wanderer, he and M!C bond over a shared disgust for the Second Fatui Harbinger.

And speaking of the Fatui... Well, they try to recruit her to the cause, and she has this to say:

“I’ll not serve your organization while any part of Dottore yet lives. For too many years, I stood by and did nothing while so-called ‘doctors’ brutalized the innocent and vulnerable for their supposed research, their dreams of godhood and divine revelation. Never again. If your leaders possess a shred of self-preservation between themselves, then perish the thought this instant.”

Fatui agent(s): ...

They don’t give up, of course. The less friendly ‘recruiters’ get sent back to Snezhnaya in pieces. The only Fatuus M!C tolerates is Tartaglia, because aside from being the Traveler’s friend, he’s a decent punching bag/sparring partner. She finds his Foul Legacy transformation cute, like a kitten baring its teeth at a lion.

Related idea: M!C meets Dottore’s remaining segment, and after everything she’s heard (let’s say from Collei and Wanderer, maybe Nahida too) she barely lets him get two words in before cutting his head clean off. Will this affect Dottore in the long run? Probably not. Does it make her feel better? Yes, actually. Collei certainly isn’t upset by the news. Wanderer is, only because he feels M!C was too merciful. She lets him dismember the segment so they can stuff it in a box and send it back to the Doctor as a warning.

If a scourge of beasts were to descend on Teyvat, probably because of Dottore M!C would lead the defense. This is not a war that mortals alone can fight, she insists. By her orders, every available god (herself included), adeptus, dragon, and most of the older allogenes are on the front lines, staving off the worst of the horde. Pyro users are in high demand, for the beasts fear them the most. In lieu of blood ministration, the various healers of Teyvat are working ‘round-the-clock. An entirely new crop of Vision-wielding healers spring up, because Teyvat’s top god herself unconsciously wills them into existence. Because M!C would never make use of the Old Blood, not after seeing and experiencing its effects firsthand. The burden of being a capital-H Hunter, the sweet, intoxicating call of blood - M!C remembers Byrgenwerth’s sacred adage, and she has learned from the mistakes of Vicar Laurence. Yharnam was merely the latest in a cycle of destruction, all because of the Old Blood. She will not doom Teyvat to suffer the same fate.

[jedi-hawkins]

Raining Flowers

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor @photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives @nahoney22 - Fox, Tech @totallyunidentified - 99, Cody @dragonrider9905 - Hardcase @l-lend - Wolffe @moonstrider9904 - Howzer @eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Echo x fem Jedi!reader

Chosen Flower: Cherry Blossoms

Word count: 3.7k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Mentions of death, mourning, disordered eating/recovery, nightmares, all canon trauma related to Echo's Techno Union arc, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst

Beta-read by @photogirl894

As a Jedi Master you’re always being run hither and yon throughout the galaxy. Your most recent assignment has you on Naboo as head of security for a symposium of senators. Your squad of support troopers is set to arrive later today. 

You have to admit, you’re a little nervous. The squad that’s being sent is Clone Force 99. You’ve worked with them before and get along with them well enough, but the thought of their newest member is what’s making your stomach churn.

Echo. You knew him before the mission that killed him, before he was even recruited for the 501st. He was your closest friend and confidant. After his valiant efforts on the Rishi Moon Outpost he was stationed on your Venator. You quickly recognized his skill for strategy and recruited him as your personal tactics advisor along with his twin, Fives. No matter how bad of a day you had, dinner and a walk with Echo always lifted your spirits. 

Then Rex had to steal your Domino twins from you. You were so proud of them and you knew Anakin was gaining two of the best soldiers you’d ever seen, but you were still sad to see them go. You still kept in touch with Echo, you could always count on at least one holocall a week. You’d just fill each other in on the happenings in your lives, brainstorm war issues that were giving you trouble, talk about everything and nothing all at once. You were able to see him a couple times when you were sent to work with the 501st and it was always like no time had passed.

Then the Citadel happened.

You didn’t let anyone see you cry for him. A Jedi mourning a single clone? It felt like not many would understand, and the war was still raging. You had to move on with your head held high, and yet you were numb for months.

Fives kept in touch with you, you offered your condolences, but held it together for him. The two of you would share a holocall every month or so to catch up and reminisce in memories of Echo but it still wasn’t quite the same. Even though your best friend was gone, you found yourself talking to him under your breath about your day, just like those weekly holocalls. 

Eventually the pain faded to just a dull ache in the background. Then Fives went rogue and was ‘decommissioned’ as the report put it. The last tie you had to Echo was gone. The Chancellor held that report under lock and key, so once again you mourned one of your Domino Twins with little comfort. 

The numbness took over again, but this time it didn’t linger for quite as long. Just when you got to the point that memories of Echo and Fives  brought happy tears, you got the comm from Anakin. They found Echo. 

The guilt nearly swallowed you whole. Echo had been alive this whole time and you didn’t know. They mounted a rescue for him and you weren’t told. His recovery happened and you weren’t there. Today would be the first time you’d seen or spoken to him since your last holocall before the Citadel. You couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Why hadn’t he reached out to you before now?’ 

You had kept to yourself partly because you were being run into the ground by the Council, but also because you wanted to give him space. You weren’t sure he even remembered you. Would he still be your Echo? 

Rex knew what Echo had meant to you and commed directly after they rescued him to fill you in more than Anakin had. He didn’t reveal much more, but he had let you know that the Techno Union did things to him. That he looked different, that he was found with a lot of integrated mechanics. That was months ago, and you hadn’t heard much since. 

So here you were, anxiously wringing your hands awaiting the arrival of Squad 99. 

You recognize their ship as they land, thankfully they scrubbed their nose art off before this mission. Probably with some convincing from Anakin. The ramp lowers and Sergeant Hunter disembarks to meet you. 

You quickly run him through the plan for today. The symposium isn’t until tomorrow, but it is up to you to survey the venue to note ‘problem areas’ and make sure nothing is compromised. 

Hunter suggests that Wrecker and Crosshair pair off and that he’ll go with Tech. He gives you an all-knowing look when you do the math of who’s left. You’d mentioned Echo in passing before to Hunter while on missions. When he commed to debrief about this mission, he asked how you were and suddenly you were spilling nearly everything about your history with Echo. Hunter had assured you his squad was taking care of him and that your worries would stay between the two of you. 

“You two need the time to talk.” Hunter muttered, squeezing your shoulder and calling to his brothers. 

You’re left waiting at the bottom of the ramp for a few more minutes before a figure appears in the Marauder’s door. Your stomach drops at the sight of him. 

He looks so different. New metal legs shine in the sunlight, and a scomp link is where his right hand used to be. ‘No more double wielding,’  you think to yourself. His new armor is red and black, Batch colors. Your heart does warm at the sight of the kama he’s wearing, at least he hasn’t forgotten that he’s still an ARC. His new helmet is tucked under his scomp arm. 

His eyes brighten when he sees you. Mechanical studs for Maker knows what dot his scalp, but even though his skin is much paler and his face is sunken in, those are still the same amber eyes that you’ve sought comfort in so many times. 

Your voice is shaky at first. “E-Echo?”

Some color spreads across the bridge of his nose as he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, d-different I know. You look good though.” 

You smile at his compliment and lead the way to the side of the venue you two will be surveying. At first you walk in silence, neither of you really sure how to bridge the gap between you. You want to ask him how he’s been, how his recovery went, explain how sorry you are for not being there, but the words keep getting stuck in your throat. 

You open your mouth to say something, but Echo beats you to it. “Do you still like roast bantha?” 

“Y-yeah?” You respond, a little taken aback by his odd question. “Why?”

He shrugs “Because I had some the other week and it was the first real meal I enjoyed since returning.” 

“It was my favorite, still is.” 

“I remember.” Echo gives you a sideways glance. “You can ask, I know you want to.” 

Of course he knew what you were thinking. You go back to wringing your hands. “I- I want to apologize first. I didn’t even know a rescue was happening, I should have been there but no one told me. I was off the grid on Taris.” 

Once the words start, they don’t stop. “Anakin commed me after they got you out but they didn’t let me see you on Coruscant. Then you were reassigned and I didn’t know where you were. I’m sorry I should have reached out, but I wanted to give you space. I didn’t know if you remembered me...” 

Echo stops you by resting his hand on your shoulder.. “It’s okay, really. You don’t need to apologize. I had a whole army of people fussing over me. I should have reached out, that was on me. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about all… this” He says gesturing to himself. 

“Oh Echo, no. I don’t care about that. I was just so worried, I just wanted you to be okay.” You say hurriedly. “Are you- are you okay?”

He nods, turning to start walking again. “I am, there’s been some adjustments but I’m getting used to it.” 

You tilt your head curiously, “Tell me about it. If you feel comfortable.” 

“Of course I feel comf-'' His words are cut off when he stumbles on the stone path beneath your feet. “Well that’s one thing. These damn legs. The Techno Union gave me some rudimentary ones, but these are much more complex. They’re heavier and made me a couple inches taller too. I probably looked like a newborn fathier for the first couple weeks.” 

You stifle a snicker and Echo notices. 

“You can laugh, really.” He reassures you. “I missed that laugh of yours. You always shared my sense of humor.” 

“Did they hurt?” You wonder aloud, glancing down at his metal thigh. 

He shrugs, “Nah, not really. They’re wired up so that I can feel some sensation of moving but I can’t really register touch, it’s more of a dull pressure. Sometimes I’ll get some weird feelings, like an ache or an itch in my leg that’s not there, Tech called it ‘phantom pains.’ The most annoying thing is that I always feel warm now from the mechanics in me.” 

Echo can see the curiosity glinting in your eyes. “Here.” He says, halting and propping his foot up on a nearby garden wall. He moves his kama out of the way before he gently takes your hand and presses your hand to his left thigh. 

You can feel the warmth under your palm. It’s not quite like the warmth from human skin, but it’s not like the warmth from a databank either. It reminds you of the warmth of your lightsaber, you can still feel Echo’s life force pulsing under your touch. 

“Incredible.” You mutter as he readjusts himself. “I remember you were always freezing before.” 

He chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose I was. I would always steal Fives’ blankets.”

Your heart pangs at the mention of Echo’s twin. “Rex told you, I assume?” 

“Yeah. He did.” Echo sighs. “Said something in his and Tup’s heads malfunctioned but couldn’t tell me much else. We had a little memorial for them.” 

“That’s nice. I wasn’t there when it happened, he and I talked about you a lot.” 

“I know he definitely would have had a few jokes about this.” Echo says waving his scomp link, trying to lighten the mood. 

Your brow scrunches. “I’m surprised Anakin didn’t offer to make you a hand like his.” 

“He did, I just thought I’d keep the scomp. Means we don’t have to lug around an astromec to get into places. I don’t mind it, it’s all right.” A sly smirk spreads across his face.

You groan at him. “Was that a kriffing joke?” You say, fully laughing at him. “You’re terrible. Fives would be proud.”

Echo’s laughter joins yours. “Yeah, he would’ve nearly pissed himself watching me figure this thing out. One morning I nearly took my eye out trying to rub it with this.” 

You cover your mouth and groan at the thought as Echo continues. 

“Another time I was enjoying some morning caf and leaned on the counter, only I forgot I didn’t have a hand anymore and the scomp slipped. Fell flat on my face and I smelled like caf all day.” 

Again, your laughter starts back up at the mental image. “The Batch, are they treating you well?” You ask between giggles. 

“They are.” Echo says with a nod. “They’ve really helped me through some of the rough parts.” 

“Oh?”

“Well of course Tech has helped me figure out the kinks of my new mechanics.” Echo shrugs. “But he also really helped me with speech. For a while my mind was a bit jumbled. My thoughts were broken with old battle strategies, the data Techno Union kept pulling. I would lose the word for something right before I said it, use the wrong word, misunderstand what someone was saying. Tech helped me realize that my brain had literally been damaged, rewired, and that it would take time to come back from that. When I didn’t have the words, he had them for me. Others may find his tendency to finish peoples’ sentences a bit annoying, but I was thankful for it. Saved me a lot of frustration when I was trying to communicate early on.” 

“I’ve always found that trait of his endearing.” You reply, not wanting to stunt Echo’s sharing. 

“And Hunter’s great too. It’s been kind of nice having someone else in charge. He talked to me about it, acknowledged that I had more wartime experience than him, but he knew I needed to take a step back and heal, not be the one with all the answers.”

You smile at his mention of the Sergeant’s intentions. “Hunter has a big heart, he sees a lot more than you’d think.” 

Echo nods. “He helped me with other things too. I sometimes get these electronic migraines. Tech thinks they happen when the mechanics in my head overstimulate the electrical activity of my brain but he couldn’t really figure out a solution. Hunter did though, since he gets migraines himself. Showed me his whole care routine to shorten them and ride it out.” 

Memories of the time you witnessed one of Hunter’s migraines make you wince. “I hope they’re not too bad.” 

“No, not with their help. The hardest thing to figure out was how to gain weight again.” 

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, I mean you look…” Your words are lost as you gesture to him. 

He gives you a sly look, but continues without comment. “Yeah. Food just wasn’t the same for me when I woke up. I don’t really understand the science behind it, but I wasn’t fed in Purkoll. They must have been giving me something but when I woke up I was emaciated and, I just didn’t have an interest in food. The appetite came back pretty quick as I started being more active, but I just couldn’t find stuff that made me want to eat. I mentioned the Bantha roast, that was Wrecker’s idea since he remembered you making it one time on mission. He’s been a big help in finding things I like. He also has this way of packing an insane amount of calories and protein into a meal. He was also pretty big in helping me regain muscle mass. Surprisingly, or maybe not, he was always the one to check in on me, make sure I wasn’t being pushed too hard.” 

You smile. “Wrecker is a sweetheart, and he does have a way with food. He can make those GAR ration packs taste better than anyone. He has a way with people too.” 

“His workouts are intense, though.” Echo jokes.

“Tell me about it.” You shake your head. “I hope Crosshair hasn’t given you too much trouble. He can be intense in a different way.” 

“Crosshair?” Echo repeats. “Nah, he’s okay. He gives me shit like he does everyone else. He was a nice change from all the doctors fussing over me. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile. He didn’t treat me like I was going to break at any second, even when he…” Echo trails off, but you can sense his thoughts. 

“You have nightmares don’t you.” You state gently. 

Echo nods. “One of the first nights I was with them I had this dream. I was back there in that city being taken apart and pieced back together again; having my mind played with. I’m pretty sure I was talking in my sleep, yelling more likely. When I woke up I saw Crosshair was on watch, but he had his back turned to me. He didn’t say anything the next day and neither did the others. I don’t know if they heard me because they’re all heavy sleepers, or if Crosshair told them not to say anything. I don’t know if he’s been doing it on purpose, but he always takes watch when it’s my turn to sleep. Whenever I’m napping too, he’s always there with his back to me. It helped with the dreams, knowing I had someone watching for me.” 

“Echo…” You mutter, unsure of what to say. You want to comfort him, but what could you do for him that his squad hasn’t already? He’s healing without you.

A breeze picks up before you find the words causing soft pink flowers to start raining down on the two of you from the trees above. You move to brush them out of your hair, but Echo’s hand wraps around your wrist to stop you. 

“No, leave them.” He says, “They’re pretty.” 

You bow your face to try to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks as Echo guides you to a nearby bench. 

“Sit with me for a moment?” His voice is timid.

“Of course.”

“You helped me too, you know.” Echo says, tracing his fingers over your palm. 

“How could I possibly have helped you?” You sigh, trying and failing at hiding the sadness in your voice. “I wasn’t there, haven’t been there.”

“But you have.” Echo insists. “It’s hard to explain, but in Purkoll I had these moments where it was almost like I was myself again. It was probably in the lulls when the Separatists weren’t accessing my memories. In those moments I talked to you, like we used to. I talked about my days, reminisced about the good times, funny memories. I think it’s what kept me from losing myself entirely. And when I woke up… I sort of kept doing it. The Batch is great, but they didn’t know me before, you know? They’ve never known me as anything other than this.” 

Echo gestures to himself with his scomp before continuing. “And Rex, he did, but staying with him felt like it would’ve been a step backwards. I needed to move on, but I didn’t want to forget who I was, you knew me better than anyone, even Fives. There were days when it felt like I would never recover, never be the elite soldier I once was. Those were the days I talked to you the most, imagined what you’d say back to me. In my mind you’d let me have my pity party, then tell me to get my ass in gear. I should’ve just commed you for the real conversation, but I was a coward. I was afraid that you’d look at me like I was broken, so I kept you in my head. I hope that’s not weird…”  He trails off.

You don’t even know what to say as your chest fills with awe. All this time, he’s been talking to you? 

Echo gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “These flowers suit you.” He says gently, filling the silence.

You glance up at the tree above you and hum to yourself. “They’re cherry blossoms. Fitting.” 

“How so?”

“They’re a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings.” You explain. “Echo, it’s not weird or cowardly that you’ve been talking to me. I’ve been doing the same actually. I thought about comming you every day after Anakin and Rex told me they found you, but I was so terrified you wouldn’t remember me.”

He gently grasps your chin with his thumb and forefinger to raise your eyes to his. “I could never forget you. You were the tether that kept me, me. I wish we hadn’t wasted time getting back in touch.” 

A light laugh passes through your nose. “Another lesson of the cherry blossoms. They bloom for only few days and remind us that life is fleeting.” 

“If life is fleeting, then I guess I should go ahead and do this.” Echo mutters before leaning towards you. 

He’s timid at first when your lips connect, but grows more bold as the seconds melt into minutes. You can feel his scomp arm pull you closer as his hand tousles in your hair. There’s a tiny voice in the back of your head chastising you, ‘Jedi cannot have selfish attachments.’ You immediately push it aside. 

This, the love you have for Echo is no selfish attachment. You already lost him once, you mourned him and never turned from the light. He was your light. Your confidence builds as his tongue begins to explore yours, the garden around you fading away. The feelings you both harbored for each other all these years are finally confessed without a single word being spoken. It’s just you.

You don’t even know how long you two have been tangled in each other when you can hear a faint beeping coming from Echo’s bracer. He must have heard it too because he breaks away from you with a grumble before answering the comm.

“Echo, go.” He answers.

‘Echo, it’s Hunter. We’ve all finished our surveillance and are back at the Marauder, what’s your status?” 

Echo’s eyes flit to you with your hand pressed over your mouth trying to keep from laughing. “We-uhhh got dis- duh… sah-sidetracked. Something suspicious we had to investigate.” 

From the tiny snicker Hunter lets slip you can tell he doesn’t buy it. ‘Alright, we’ll keep your rations warm. Will the General be joining us?’

“Sure Hunter, I’d love to.” You call before Echo can answer. 

‘Sounds like a plan. Don’t take too long or you’ll kiss- I mean miss dinner.’ 

“Womp-rat bastard.” Echo grumbles when Hunter ends the call. 

You nearly keel over with laughter at Hunter’s comment and the expression Echo has on his face. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing. How in Sith’s Hells did he even know?” He says, obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh please.” You say, grinning. “Hunter’s literally enhanced to sense everything, he got us good. Come on,” you say, standing up. “Let’s finish our round so we can go eat.” 

Echo stands shaking his head, but he takes your hand and gestures further down the path. “After you, ner sarad.”

“That’s mando, I recognize it.” You say over your shoulder. “What does it mean?”

Echo smiles at you, his eyes, those same old eyes lighting up. “I'll tell you all about it.

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro.

YSIK Masterlist // Next chapter

A Cherry Blossom is a pretty flower, Blooming in the spring and representing renewal and joy. However it is quick to die out in the winter, Shrivelling up with it's beautiful colour following with it. Leaving the memory of it gone yet never forgotten.

The moon shun bright in the obsidian black sky.

The light that came down illuminated a small, yet well kept gravestone.

It was old, Ancient probably, Cracks were illustrated boldly into the corners and wrapped around the granite like spider webs. it seemed it was about to fall apart at the seams, yet held strong.

Flowers of all colour bustled around the bottom, Fresh, Newly planted.

A man sat on his knees in front of the stone, the only motion he made was the light breeze running through his hair, making his ponytail sway in the wind.

This was no man but instead a demon.

All six of his eyes lay transfixed on the carving written dead-centre on the tombstone, Carved with great care and precision to get it just right.

'[F/N] Tsugikuni'

The mans face was stoic and unreadable, but his eyes were filled with great sorrow and regret.

Kokushibo's arm reached out to the stone, Clawed hands tracing over the lettering carved out.

He asked himself

'How did it come to this?'

☆♡☆

"Michi-Nii!"

A young girl in a blue dragon-patterned haori called out from a distance, She could of only been about four or five yet her little legs were fast and let her catch up to her older brother.

Michikatsu turned around, Mildly surprised at his sister's sudden appearance he stopped in his tracks letting her finally reach him.

"[F/N]. I thought I told you to stay at home and help mother today, You know she needs someone to help her out." Michikatsu said, A little white lie.

His mother, While she wasn't in the best condition, Didn't currently need any help and even if she did little [F/N] would not of been able to do much about it. After all, She was still very young.

[F/N] heaved trying to catch her breath from all that running.

"I know Michi-Nii! but I wanted to come watch you fight!" [F/N] said excitedly, A big expecting smile on her face.

Michikatsu looked into [F/N]'s big puppy dog eyes and sighed. He just couldn't resist.

"..Well alright.. But for the record it's not 'fighting' it's sword training, I'm not fighting anyone, Just preparing for the day when I do, When I become a samurai!" Michikatsu said triumphantly.

[F/N] squealed.

"That's so cool! When I'm a big kid I wanna fight with swords and become a sam-u-mai!" She exclaimed.

"Samurai" Michikatsu corrected.

"Samai!" She responded.

"Samurai" Michikatsu said, Extra slowly so [F/N] could pick up the syllables.

"Samrai!" She said with complete confidence.

Michikatsu snorted and ruffled the girls hair, Who laughed in return.

"Nevermind, Let's get a move on then."

☆♡☆

The sun was high in the sky naming afternoon.

[F/N] sat on the grassy hill next to her brother, Yorichii.

They sat together watching Michikatsu over yonder train his sword swings by hitting dummies out in the field. She watched in wonder at his determination and focus to his craft

Yorichii was the middle child of the family, Michikatsu the oldest and [F/N] the youngest.

Yorichii was a mute. Never spoke or made any motion to communicate, However that never stopped [F/N]'s undying attempts of trying to.

This mostly just consisted of [F/N] following him around, Sleeping in his futon when she had a nightmare or just simply talking her little heart out to him, To which he'd always respond with a little smile and a nod, Showing that he was listening.

He was usually a daydreamer, But today he seemed just as transfixed as she was at their older brother's training.

"Yor-Nii, Where are you going?" [F/N] asked as she watched Yorichii wander down the hill towards Michikatsu.

As usual she got no answer, So she got up and followed him down.

Michikatsu was so fixated on his sword swings that he never noticed Yorichii standing behind him.

So when the physics of one of his sword slashes brought him back stumbling into Yorichii that snapped him out of his training fever.

"Yorichii? What is it?" Michikatsu said surprised. His brother had never interfered while he was training

Yorichii stood still and took in a deep breath, He clenched his fists as if bracing for impact. He opened his mouth.

"...I want to be a samurai like you!" Yorichii stammered not only in his speech but also in his stance.

Michikatsu's sword dropped to the ground with a clang!

A shockwave went through both Michikatsu and [F/N], Their brothers first words to them leaving them speechless.

[F/N] however was the first to speak up.

"Yor-Nii! You can speak! Now we can really talk to each other!" She proclaimed excitedly, Making Yorichii wobble when she jumped to hug him.

Michikatsu stood there, It was hard to tell whether he was shocked at Yorichii's sudden speech or the proclamation of his goal which happened to coincide with both his and [F/N]'s.

"Yorichii.." Michikatsu said just above a whisper.

Yorichii looked back at him with a shaky determination, it shook and swayed but despite the odds it stood strong.

Michikatsu's form deflated, Going back to his calm and stoic demeanour.

"Yorichii. You know what will happen when you're ten, Right?" He said quietly, Only hinting at Yorichii's fate as [F/N] had no idea.

Yorichii nodded. Only taking a glance down at [F/N].

"I know. But I still want to be a samurai, I want to be like you." Yorichii said, Still not given up.

[F/N] perked up.

"Me too! I wanna be a.. samurai too! Like Michi-Nii!" She said, Making sure to pronounce 'Samurai' slowly to pronounce the syllables.

"Hey, You got it right" Michikatsu pointed out, Mildly proud.

Yorichii looked down at [F/N] who still was hugging his waist, He smiled.

"Really? All of us want to be swordsmen?" Yorichii asked now a bit more reserved. He scratched the back of his head.

"Swordgirl!" [F/N] said confidently.

"Swordswoman" Both Yorichii and Michikatsu corrected at the same time.

"Swordgirl?"

This will take a while.

☆♡☆

A good few years have passed since then.

The five-year old little girl [F/N] had grown into a blossoming young woman and is now a little younger than her big brothers were back then.

She still wore a resized version of her blue dragon-patterned haori, The only thing that really stayed the same and came with her through her walk of life.

"You know [F/N], I could convince your father to buy you a new haori" Akeno Tsugikuni, Her mother said to her while running a needle through her haori, resizing the fabric to fit [F/N]'s bigger self.

"This is about the fifth time I've had to refit this old thing. I'm sure your dad would prefer you to have a new one, You are coming up on marriage age after all" She softly spoke to [F/N], But her eyes were fixed on the fabric, Stitching with care.

[F/N] shook her head nonchalantly.

"No, Mom. This was a gift from you, It was homemade. You can't just buy that kind of thing from a tailor." She huffed.

[F/N] sat on the edge of her mothers sick-bed, Her mother laid propped up so she could

Akeno smiled.

"Besides, I don't even think I'd want to get married. I like how my life is right now and you know I still want to be an onna-musha, right?" [F/N] said.

True, Even after all these years [F/N] still held onto the goal of becoming a Female samurai, An onna-musha.

However it seemed like a pipe-dream. With her father's influence and strength she had never picked up a sword, No matter how hard or surreptitiously tried to steal or borrow one of her brothers swords she was always caught in the end and given a right punishment for it.

Still, This never changed her mind on the matter.

"I see... Still haven't given up on that dream, have you?" She hummed.

"Well anyways, If you're so invested into my own sowing then maybe-" Akeno broke out into a fit of coughs, She dropped the needle in favour of covering her mouth.

[F/N] quickly rushed over to her side.

"Mom? Mom, Are you alright" She said, Lightly patting her mothers back.

Akeno stopped sputtering out coughs but still softly wheezed during breaths.

"I'm.. Fine, Sweetheart" She spoke, However her hoarse throat said otherwise.

"No, You're not! You don't need to fix my haori, We can continue later but right now you should lay down." [F/N] worried.

Akeno shook her head.

"I said I'm alright but.. could you go fetch me.. Some water?" She breathed heavily as if all the air around her had thinned.

[F/N] quickly nodded and rushed out the room to complete the task.

She swiftly opened the shoji doors to her house and made her way over to the water-well sat upon the hill. She hoped to the gods above that the well hadn't dried up in the early summer heat.

She reached the small little well and peered inside, The water in the well was plentiful. [F/N] sighed in relief and proceeded to wheel the bucket on the rope down the stony passageway.

CLASH!

[F/N] jumped at the sound, Letting the rope slip from her grasp she watched the bucket fall from its steady pace and hit the water with a loud splash!

"No!" [F/N] yelled. The well was too far down for her to reach the bucket. She cried out in frustration and looked over at the source of noise that dominoed the bucket falling.

Over in the valley beyond the hill was Michikatsu, Still out training with his sword. It was fairly early in the morning and judging by the sweat-beads on his face and the mess of his clothes [F/N] could tell he's been up training since six at least.

That's right, Along with her, Michikatsu had changed as well.

From the strong yet stoic young man that [F/N] had grown up with he had festered into a more strength obsessed yet quiet young man than what he had been before.

[F/N] knew the catalyst well, He was her brother after all.

Yorichii from that day he proclaimed his want to be a samurai, Had demonstrated an inhuman talent for the skill. A man who was working with their father had humoured Yorichii and decided to teach him a basic stance.

However to everyone's surprise, Yorichii had landed four blows on the man and swiftly defeated him. Which is something that Michikatsu never could.

From then on Michikatsu grew a bit darker, Maybe not noticeably. Not noticeable from her father, mother or even Yorichii. But [F/N] could tell.

She barely saw him anymore, Well it was more of she never talked to him anymore. She still watched him train, at least from afar.

An idea clicked in her head.

The bucket in the well was too far down for her to reach, Yes. However it wasn't too far for Michikatsu who was a foot taller than her.

She walked down the hill, Calling out for him.

"Michi-Nii!" She called out to him.

Michikatsu stopped swinging his sword and turned around to look at his little sister with an annoyed scowl on his face.

"What? Can't you see I'm a bit busy at the moment" Michikatsu hissed.

[F/N] froze for a moment.

"I just need a little help, the bucket in the well fell into the water" She explained softly, Scared to entice her brothers wrath.

Michikatsu groaned.

"Alright." He said simply and quickly headed over to the well. [F/N] followed after, Smiling.

"Thank you, Michi-Nii!" She said thankfully.

[F/N] grabbed onto his hand to hold it, But she was shaken off by Michikatsu.

"I told you to stop calling me that, It's stupid and childish" He said, grimacing.

[F/N]'s smile was put out like a light, But she nodded. Trying to respect his wishes.

They got to the well and Michikatsu fished out the bucket with ease and handed it over to [F/N] who bowed down in thanks but with much less emotion put into it.

With that, Michikatsu walked away without a goodbye. Off to go and continue training for the rest of the day and coming back home in the dead of night, Just to go to sleep and repeat the process over and over again.

[F/N] frowned but took the bucket of water back to the house.

Sliding open the Shoji doors she entered the house, remarkably more downtrodden than before.

As she walked the halls towards her mothers room she heard two voices arguing in a hushed tone.

"She doesn't want to get married."

"Too bad. She's coming upon marriage age and if she doesn't want to disrespect this family she will do as she's told and marry the man we've picked out for her"

The two voices, Her mother and father.

She slipped quietly behind the half-open shoji door, Intently listening in on their conversation

"She want's to be an onna-musha, You know." Her mother admitted.

"An onna-musha. Really." Her father responded, A tone full of disgusted shock ran through his voice.

"That girl is too weak to even tend to the horses. Not to mention the girl's only worth will be to marry her off to a nobleman. Her being a samurai along with the men would just be wrong" He said.

There was a silence not just between [F/N]'s parents, But her too.

She's known her father hadn't particularly paid attention to her nor did he show any affection but to think he thought this lowly of her was a gut punch to the stomach.

"Don't say that, Akuhei. She could be listening" Her mother said in a whisper.

"I hope she is. She needs to learn the truth sooner or later or she'll grow up and be delusional to the real world."

[F/N] let tears flow from her cheeks, Dripping down onto the floor.

If she couldn't even get a bucket out from a well, Could she really be a swordswoman?

☆♡☆

Something wasn't right.

It had been a good few hours after [F/N] had eavesdropped on her parents conversation and it had fallen into night-time.

[F/N] had long gone to bed but she wasn't able to fallen asleep easy. It was strange, No matter the situation she had always had no issue with falling into unconciousness.

She rolled and scuffled around on her futon uncomfortably. Could it of been the conversation earlier? No. Couldn't be that, It was something else.

[F/N] rubbed her eyes and got up from her futon. She shuffled on her sandals and quickly draped her newly-sized blue dragon haori around her figure for warmth.

She decided to go for a walk to clear her head.

[F/N] walked softly in the darkened hallways of her home, The soft moonlight illuminated her pathway through the house. She was lost in her own thoughts from the events of the day.

Her father's words, Michikatsu's attitude, Her mother's illness. It all swirled in her mind like a hurricane.

"..I like my life how it is right now"

The words she had told her mother. A lie.

She hated how everything was right now. Her dad saw her as an object to be bid on. Michikatsu acted like she was nothing but a burden to him and Yorichii was nowhere to be found.

Besides, Even if Yorichii and Michikatsu weren't talking either they were obviously the more important in the family.

They were the Sun and the Moon, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi.

[F/N] wasn't a celestial deity or a celestial body, She was just the terrestrial afterthought. Yorichii and Michikatsu were both skilled and talented in their own rights, They were fawned over by the girls and even some of the boys in the village. They were praised and respected.

[F/N] wasn't even allowed to leave the house.

Now that she thought about it, There was only was her and her mother.

Her mother.

While walking she had stopped in her tracks. Light shone in through the hallway from an open door.

Her mother's door.

[F/N]'s brow quirked. Was her mother up this late as well? She should be asleep, She was very ill after all.

[F/N] peeked through the doorway, Her eyes widened.

Yorichii stood over the bed, Her mother layed motionlessly on the bed.

"Yor-Nii?" [F/N] asked.

Yorichii turned around, A strained look in his eyes. His jaw stood locked tight as if there was something painful he had to say.

"Mother has passed on" Yorichii whispered.

What?

No, No. No no no no no. That couldn't be right, No. It couldn't be right.

[F/N] stumbled over to her mother, Shoving Yorichii out of the way to whom backed off.

"Mum, Mum. Wake up, Hey. Hey, Do you hear me?" [F/N] cried, She grasped onto her mother's limp hand, She shook it in futile attempt to wake her.

"Mum you can't, Mum please." Tears started rolling down her cheeks now, Her breathing laboured.

"Yorichii, Please did you try-"

She turned around, Yorichii was nowhere to be seen.

He had left.

He had left and hadn't even bothered to try and comfort her.

She stared in shock, Not believing her situation

She was brought back by a hand squeezing her own.

She snapped her head back down to her mother, Whose eyes lain weakly on [F/N]'s. A soft yet painful smile appeared on her face.

"Mum!" [F/N] choked.

"[F/N]..." Akeno whispered. "Come closer.."

[F/N] Nodded and leant down closer to her mother, Kneeling down now to listen closely. Her eyes never leaving her mothers

"I never wanted to be married... My father had sold me off at a young age as well." Akeno started.

"I had a chance.. Once.. To leave this place, To get out of my marriage but do you know what happened?" She asked, Looking mournfully into the eyes of her youngest, Who was now choking on her sobs and tears rushing out from her eyes.

Akeno didn't wait for an answer

"I didn't take it.. I was too afraid." A sad smile came upon her.

"My life had ended right there since I never took that chance.. And the only good thing to ever happen after that... were you three."

"[F/N].. Yorichii.. Michikatsu. My beautiful children" Akeno let tears roll down her face now, Reminiscing on her life that was flashing before her now.

"Please.. You now have a chance. Get away while you still can.." Her other hand wiped the tears off of [F/N]'s face weakly, However her hand started to fall.

"Run.. and I promise I will see you again, The kami will reunite us... I love you, [F/N]" She whispered, Her hand falling to her side and the others grip becoming limp. The light in her eyes fading.

"Mum... Mum! No! no no!" [F/N] sobbed, Shaking her mothers now lifeless corpse she collapsed to the floor and cried out for her mum to come back, to speak to her.

"Run, You still have your chance"

Her mothers voice rang in her head, It echoed throughout her entire being.

And with love and tears, She kissed her mother on the forehead and closed her dead eyes. Akeno's face displayed rest, peace.

She said her final goodbye's to her mother and left the room to go back to her own.

And with a heavy heart and a rucksack full of essentials, She climbed out her rooms window and left in the dead of night.

☆♡☆

[F/N] trudged through the woodlands.

It was now daybreak, The sun rose upon the distance and shown through cracks in the tree's.

Through all that time [F/N] never stopped walking, Never took a break. The only thing on her mind was escape to a better place.

It was only once she appeared upon a clearing did she stop walking.

In front of her was a rundown Shinto shrine placed upon the mountainy and rocky terrain of the woods.

It had obvious that people hadn't been here in decades by the dust, cobwebs and poor conditions of all the archways and cracked stone lanterns lining the pathway up to the shrine entrance.

Back in it's heyday it would of been grand. A massive shrine that could of held a good few hundred people, As there was a large amount of corridors and a second floor.

Not to mention the vast courtyard [F/N] now found herself standing in.

She breathed in the highland forest air, Took in the birds chirping and the warm light of the sun on her skin.

She looked upon the sign hanging from the archway.

"Inari Ōkami"

The kami of Foxes, Agriculture, Fertility, Tea, Sake and Swordsmiths.

[F/N] frowned at the state of the shrine, Thinking of it as a great disrespect to Inari.

Another thought ran through her mind.

Home. A rundown one for sure, But nothing she couldn't fix.

And that's what she did.

For the next ten years that's what [F/N] did. She fixed the Archways, Refilled the stone lamps, Rebuilt the structuring, Cleaned up the cobwebs and dust all until it looked newly built.

Everyday since she came across it she would give offerings to Inari Ōkami. Ranging from nuts and fruit she would pick up while scavenging to Flowers and pieces of jewellery.

She'd light candles in their honour, Pray to them not for good fortune but for the reformation of the shrine.

She'd grown attached to the shrine, So much so that she had completely forgotten her goal of becoming a swordswoman in favour of being the sole shrine-maiden.

And in that time she had finally bloomed into a beautiful young woman and if anyone should come across her they would describe her as such.

Not that anyone came along though, The shrine was in the middle of nowhere and [F/N] had seen no one in the past decade.

As [F/N] got up for another day to tend to the shrine she wondered what her brothers were doing now.

☆♡☆

[F/N] carried her basket full of fruits, Satisfied from a successful scavenge.

She headed back up towards the large archway that was there to greet people into the temple. It use to be covered in splintered wood but thanks to the efforts of [F/N] the archway was restored with a fresh coat of paint and smoothing of the wood.

When she got up there she stopped, Her eyes widened.

The massive wooden doors to the thick stone wall gate were left wide open.

She was sure she had closed them when she had left.

Her body stiffened and her palms became sweaty.

Who could be in her shrine? Nobody came up the mountains and the nearest village was a good few dozen kilometres away on the far other side of the forest. No one who was just wandering could come across the temple.

[F/N] slowly put the basket of fruit onto the ground, Making sure not to make a sound.

She unsheated her Kaiken from her obi and slowly made her way inside to the courtyard, Which seemed empty.

But she looked upon the main building and just like the gate doors the shoji to the main building were left wide open.

[F/N] confirmed her suspicions. Someone was definetly here.

She made her way inside, Checking the main hallways she found no one around however that never made [F/N] let down her guard.

THUMP!

[F/N] flinched. The sound of an object knocking over came from just down the hall she was facing. Gripping her Kaiken tighter she moved forward towards the sounds

As she got closer, She heard a duo of voices arguing.

"Stop moving, Brother."

"Argh, If you'd let me do it by myself this would go much faster."

"No. You're injured, let me do it."

Wait..

"I'm told you I'm fine. It's just a cut."

Those voices..

[F/N] lowered her Kaiken. She stood, legs shaking. Heart pounding as she slowly called out.

"Michi-Nii? Yori-Nii?"

A sudden shuffling was heard in the room across from her.

The semi-shut shoji doors slammed open and out first came Michikatsu, Who had a semi-wrapped bandage around his arm with Yorichii following close after.

They were in their twenties now and were much older and their faces had changed a lot. But no matter how much they had physically changed [F/N] recognised her brothers, Who both now had surprised yet unrecognisable expressions in their face.

[F/N]'s mouth was open, Her eyes wide and sparkling with recognition.

"[F/N]..." Yorichii said.

"Yori-Nii! Michi-Ni-" She was cut off by the sudden arms pulling her into a tight hug. Michikatsu had moved so fast that she didn't see him move.

"[F/N].." He stuttered, Swaying back and forth while hugging her.

"Nii-san.." [F/N] cried, Gripping the back of his purple hexagonal hakama tightly as she buried her head into the side of his neck.

"You've grown so much.. And look at that" [F/N] grazed the hilt of of his sword, taking in the craftsmenship.

"You've both become swordsmen. I'm so proud, I wish I could've been there to see your ceremony" She whispered.

Michikatsu never responded to her words, instead going into a speech of his own.

"[F/N].. I lost you. You disappeared out of nowhere.. I searched for you for years.." Michikatsu was lost for words. If [F/N] didn't know better she could of sworn he was crying.

"I'm sorry, Michi-Nii. I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I went" [F/N] whispered.

The bear hug grip on her got tighter.

"Never. And I mean never leave me again. You have no idea what you put me through... You better promise" He scolded. [F/N] nodded vigorously.

"I promise."

☆♡☆

"So this is where you've been living for the past ten years?" Michikatsu asked, Looking around the haiden.

The place was a massive hall dedicated to worship of Inari. at the very end was the main worship shrine, Which was bustling with hand-woven straw baskets filled with offerings and lit candles in Inari's honour.

"Yeah.. When I ran away ten years I came across this place and made it my home. Been like that ever since." [F/N] smiled, Proud of the hall.

It was indeed very pretty, The new refurbished decorations of flowers, candles and banner-work created a grandiose appearance. The wooden pillars supported the tall height of the room and had beams at the top connecting them all with baskets filled with flowers hanging from them.

The entire room looked like it was built and cared for by an entire team of shrine maidens, Not a single dust spot to be seen.

Yorichii and Michikatsu stared in awe at the work.

"And you maintained this place all by yourself?" Yorichii asked, Genuinely in wonder at the décor.

"Well.. Apart from the occasional seller I meet when I'm scavenging for food nearest the road.. They sell me candles, Banners and other things needed for maintenance.. It's all done by me." [F/N] explained.

"It's.. Impressive. To think how you learned all this.." Michikatsu said.

"I get all my information from the shrine's library, From then on you figure it out on the way." [F/N] responded, Completely humble to the praise she received.

She turned around to her brothers with a smile.

"What about you two? Tell me what's been happening, And how'd you get that cut?" She asked innocently, Pointing to Michikatsu's bandaged arms

The two twins looked at each other, Having a silent conversation with each other. Contemplating what they should tell. Both of them very apprehensive, they shared a knowing look between them.

[F/N] frowned.

"..Is it not something you want to tell me?" She asked.

"Well.. It's hard to believe but-" Yorichii started.

"It’s just a mistake from sword training. Don't you worry about it." Michikatsu finished.

Yorichii looked over at him, Surprised at his sudden interruption.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed. She felt curious but decided to drop the subject.

"Well anyways.. I need to go retrieve my fruit basket from outside and do my morning rounds around the shrine. Feel free to have a look around, Just please don't touch anything " [F/N] said, bowing her head low and heading towards the exit.

"Hold on, I'll come with you" Michikatsu said, He went to follow after his sister but was stopped when a hand pulled him back.

"Go on ahead, [F/N]. Michikatsu-Nii will catch up." Yorichii said. [F/N] nodded.

She said goodbye in the form of a hug, Michikatsu then Yorichii.

Michikatsu shot Yorichii a scorning look.

"What do you want?" Michikatsu hissed, The usual irritation of his brother turned up a notch.

"We need to tell her, Nii-san. So we can help her set up wisteria around the place." Yorichii argued.

Michikatsu gritted his teeth.

"Wisteria would be a good idea. But we don't need to tell her about demons, I mean look at her! She's still young" Michikatsu said, exasperated.

"She's eighteen, Nii-san. More than old enough to know about demons, about how to protect herself." Yorichii countered.

"She won't need to learn how to protect herself If I'm there to do it for her" Michikatsu hissed.

Yorichii's face scrunched up. He took a step forward towards Michikatsu and stood steady.

"Nii-san, I know you and [F/N] were attached by the hip when she was young but you can't always be there for her, She's strong enough to survive on her own but not strong enough to survive a possible demon attack, So we need to inform her. She won't let us plant wisteria around the shrine without a very good reason " Yorichii argued, His point stood stronger than he did.

Michikatsu's teeth gritted and his face was a visage of concealed anger like they were standing in the eye of the storm waiting for the inevitable onslaught.

"You always need to know better, Don't you Yorichii?" Michikatsu spat in a low tone.

Yorichii was surprised at Michikatsu's sudden animosity towards him, He was confused. This had never happened before.

"What do you mean to imply by that, Nii-san?" Yorichii asked, Slight worry coming over him for his brother who seemed restless.

Michikatsu suddenly became aware of his sudden outburst, His shoulders dropped from their previously stiff position. He sighed.

"Nothing... I shouldn't of spoke out like that." Michikatsu said, Quickly bowing his head to Yorichii he began to leave the shrine hall.

"Where are you going?" Yorichii called after him.

"To go find [F/N]. And make sure she's alright" He responded, Leaving the hall in search of his little sister.

☆♡☆

Michikatsu looked around the shrine for [F/N].

He walked the halls, checked the empty rooms, searched the courtyard, looked around the perimeter of the shrine and scoured through the shrine's impressively large and overflowing gardens but turned up empty.

He was frustrated. Where could she be? The forest surrounding the temple was fairly thick and shading and who knows? A demon might of been able to cover itself in the foliage and maybe she had left the shrine to pick up her basket only to come face to face with the monster and-

Michikatsu couldn't think anymore about it.

Sweat beads started forming on his head, What if she ran away? She couldn't, she sworn to him that she'd never leave him again. She couldn't of done that to him! What if she wasn't happy to see him and took the chance to leave while he was being lectured by Yorichii?

Yorichii.

Did she favour him over Michikatsu? When you were hugging him to say goodbye he could of sworn you had hugged Yorichii just a little bit tighter than him, Smiled a little bigger, Looked a little happier.

As he searched the halls for a second time he felt another burst of envy rise up in him, Something that had been occurring more and more lately.

His thoughts stopped when he stepped on an uneven dip in the ground. He felt around with his foot and outlined a frame of sorts.

He looked down to see he was standing on a rug. He then looked up realising that he was at the end of the hallway.

He reached down and pulled away the rug revealing a trapdoor, Assumedly leading down to the basement of the shrine.

A basement? Shrines don't usually have basements, He thought to himself.

He noticed the padlock on the handle was unlocked It was also spotless without a trace of dust, Indicating that it was used often.

He opened the door with a small creak of the wood. It revealed a short stone staircase which lead down to a low-ceiling hallway.

Michikatsu raised an eyebrow. He looked left and right before going down the stairs slowly. One step at a time.

He got down to the bottom of the stairs. The ceiling was certainly low as it grazed the top of Michikatsu's head making him feel uncomfortable in the small passageway.

He walked along the tunnel, each of his footsteps producing a faint echo as he went along. The tunnel was comparably cold to the early summer heat from up top.

At the end of the passageway was a wooden door, It looked old and rigid. Looking at the rest of the shrine this was a surprise for Michikatsu as the rest of it was pristine and in perfect shape compared to the derelict looking door.

He reached the door which he now realised was opened just a slight amount.

He pressed his ear to the door, Listening intently.

The sound of cloth on metal sounded on the other side. It was a sound he recognised well, It was polishing of a sword.

He pushed the door open to find [F/N] sitting on her knees with a strange looking sword in hand, a dry cloth in the other.

"Michi-Nii!" [F/N] jumped in surprise and dropped the cloth.

She sat in a much wider room than the hallway. The stone walls were filled with holding frames and shelves, The majority of them empty but still a good few holding rather precious looking trinkets.

At the end of the room which was facing the door and [F/N] held a sort of table harbouring a headpiece stand, Which was obviously suppose to hold the sword in her hands. It was also home to a kitsune mask hanging above it with eyes that looked like it was staring right through him.

"How'd you find the room?" [F/N] said rather surprised.

"Never mind how I found it. Why are you here?" He asked sternly, As if he was scorning a misbehaving child.

"Why am I in a room inside my own shrine?" [F/N] scoffed lightly.

"More of why didn't you tell me where you were, I was worried and I couldn't find you anywhere." He asked more forceful in tone.

[F/N] seemed confused at his reasoning but chalked it up to him still being a little shaken by their reunion.

"...I'm sorry... Coming in here to tend to the artefacts here is apart of my weekly rounds." She explained. A meek look appearing on her face.

Michikatsu sighed.

"Alright then. But please, Tell me next time you wander off into some hidden basement." He said in a softer voice leading to [F/N] calming down.

"What is this room anyways?" Michikatsu asked, Examining the room.

[F/N] peaked up, A sparkle of excitement in her eyes.

"Oh! Well according to the blueprints and builders logs I've found in the library this room was specially built to hold the shrine's treasures. Oh! Wait, hold on!" [F/N] exclaimed.

She reached over to the table in front of her and pulled out a fairly tiny roll of parchment paper, Unfolding it she displayed it to Michikatsu who looked down reading it.

"Apparently one of the noble-clanswoman paying for the building of the shrine here had a really steamy affair with some hot-shot samurai who use to gift her a TON of gifts" [F/N] explained with a passion, Her eyes held a glint of story.

"So to hide them away from her husband she built this little hidey-hole so he wouldn't discover them" She finished.

"What happened to her?" Michikatsu asked, Entertaining her passion.

She only shrugged though.

"No clue, The rest of the parchment was torn and I haven't found the other half..." She said, Disappointment filling her voice.

Michikatsu nodded and looked towards the sword in [F/N]'s lap.

"I can understand the other little objects around here but a sword?" Michikatsu said dumfounded.

[F/N] shook her head.

"No! No. The only two items in the room that weren't a gift was this sword and the kitsune mask hanging over there" She said, Pointing towards the kitsune mask hung by rope.

"Then what are they doing here?"

"They're the shintai that were suppose to be worshipped here at the shrine." [F/N] stretched over and tugged the hanging mask off the rope and presented both it and the sword to Michikatsu, Signalling him to take it.

As he did she told him to be careful while holding them.

The sword was nothing similar to any Katana he's wielded, Nor was it like anything he'd seen in the country. Instead it was built like a very large medieval English sword with the only hint of Japanese influence being the blue hilt which resembled the typical katana.

One side of the sharpened blade was covered in a sort of second sharper metal which glimmered azure in the dim light of the room.

The mask however was oddly designed compared to the usual festival mask. It was made of porcelain and its eyes were carved in a sort of wide eyed stare, The whites of it being a dark black and the pupils sapphire.

Thick cerulean marks adorned the mask, Swirling around the mask and centring at the bullseye of the mask. Except for the ears which were deeply patterned with swirls and flower-esque designs culminating at the covered tips.

The two items radiated a sort of energy from both which Michikatsu couldn't place.

"They're twin artefacts. It's said in the shrines folklore that they belonged to Inari Okami themselves gifted to them by their father, Izanagi. And from the heavens above they dropped them on accident and both the sword and the mask fell to here, The mortal realm" She explained with low wonder.

"The sword is named very bluntly as "The Soul Sword". It's called that because it's said by the previous shrine maidens that when a person is killed by the blade the soul of the person is absorbed into it and prevented from passing onto the afterlife. An eternity in the blade." She told as if it was rehearsed, It probably was.

She pointed to the Mask

"The mask however isn't named but it's said to warp the body of the user to their desire, Disguising themselves completely." She said.

"And does it work?" Michikatsu asked, Studying the mask.

"Haven't tried. It's a sacred artefact of the shrine. It would be a disrespect to Inari if I did." She stated.

Michikatsu examined both of the artefacts as [F/N] rambled away on the tale of the two, They were very well kept.

"You really know a lot about this stuff. Don't you?" He said more of to himself.

[F/N] nodded.

"Yeah. I guess it's just something I'm passionate about" She muttered.

Suddenly, Their conversation was interrupted by a voice upstairs calling out.

"Nii-San! [F/N]!" Yorichii called out from up above them, Voice faint and muffled from the thick stone walls.

Michikatsu groaned being mildly annoyed at being interrupted by Yorichii. [F/N] perked up however.

"That's Yorichii. Better go see what he needs!" She said. [F/N] grabbed both the sword and the mask from Michikatsu's grasp and settling them back with care onto their designed positions, As well as rolling up the parchment paper and putting it under the table

She dusted off her beryl coloured haori and got up from the tatami mat she was sitting on.

"Come on, Better not keep him waiting!" [F/N] said making her way out without waiting for Michikatsu, Who quickly followed after.

They made their way back up the stairs to find Yorichii a few metre's down the hall. He was standing there watching them come up with an arm stretched out, A crow perched neatly on it with a small roll of parchment paper tied to its neck by a string.

"What is it, Yorichii?" Michikatsu asked eyeing the crow.

"Oyataka-sama has summoned us to the headquarters, Urgent meeting." Yorichii said, a tint of unhappiness in his voice.

Michikatsu's face scrunched up in resentment, Obviously not excited by the news.

[F/N] frowned.

"..You've got to leave?" She asked looking up at Michikatsu who looked back with her with an expression saying that he didn't want to. But Yorichii's voice maintained importance.

"..I suppose so.." He said reluctantly. Not wanting to leave his sister alone. His eyes expanded with an idea formed in his head.

"Why don't you come with us, [F/N]?" Michikatsu asked going to stand next to Yorichii. The crow once perched on his arm squawked once. And with a flap of its wings it took off out an ajar window.

[F/N]'s palms suddenly got sweaty at the thought. Her shoulders felt heavy and slumped down with her face portraying one of heavy adversion

She shook her head, Michikatsu's face fell.

"It's not a long trip if that's what you're worried about, If you get tired we can get a horse or I could carry you-" Michikatsu was cut off by [F/N]'s hum of disapproval.

"It's not the trip. It's just I really don't want to leave the shrine unattended y'know?" She asserted. Evidently after spending an entire decade in it's walls she had grown dependant and attached so much to the point she couldn't journey far out of it.

"You can leave the shrine for a few days. Just please come with us, It'll be fine." Michikatsu reasoned, a small ounce of anxiety rising up into his chest at the thought of her being left.

[F/N] shook her head again.

"No, I'm sorry. But it's not forever, You can still come visit!" She spouted in an asking tone, Waiting for him to confirm.

Michikatsu shared a look with Yorichii. Yorichii's look told him he agreed with their sister while Michikatsu's only told of aversion.

However feeling outnumbered in the situation he reluctantly sighed and agreed to [F/N]'s proposal.

With a heavy heart and bag of food [F/N] prepared for their journey, Michikatsu spared one last look to see her before heading out into the forest.

☆♡☆

In the five months that passed from that day forward were probably the happiest days of [F/N]'s life.

Every few days her brothers would come and visit her at the shrine after a mission and they'd stay for around two days before the crow came along and the process started all over again.

She'd even arranged them their own little rooms and the crow would come in advance to announce their arrival so she could prepare them food.

It was nice to be reunited with her family after a decade of solitude. The routine they got into was nice and became sort of domestic.

Though, Over the months [F/N] couldn't help but notice a sort of tension between Michikatsu and Yorichii however it was one-sided. Only Michikatsu initiated it while Yorichii was none the wiser.

It seemed more aggressive as the months went on. Michikatsu focused more on his training similar to what he did when they were younger. He'd have more hostility towards Yorichii and weirdest of all he seemed much more clingy and possessive towards her.

However [F/N] didn't like to think of it. While she knew it was there and she knew they'd have to talk about it at some point, She decided that it'd be better to wait for the right time to bring it up.

Everyday [F/N] would get up at around seven in the morning to do her rounds, Collect food and pray to Inari for an hour or two before going out to the main wooden shrine steps to sit and wait for her brothers to return.

When they did they would eat together, They'd tell stories of their mission no matter how surface level and vague they described it. They'd train outside in the courtyard while [F/N] watched from the steps in awe at their skill.

She recalled back to her childhood and her dream of becoming a samurai like her brothers, While it was true she now favoured the shrine over that old fairy-tale it didn't mean that she still didn't ponder over it often, Daydream while she brushed the floors, Envision the swing of a sword when she spun the brush around.

However of course, It was just a pipe dream. Just a silly pipe dream. But often she asked herself: Why not both?

[F/N] watched Michikatsu from the steps as he practiced sword swings in the shrine courtyard, Taking occasional glances at his sister to make sure she was watching him. The thought ran throughout her head. While she hadn't picked up a sword before other than The Soul Sword (Which at times, She lightly swung it around before setting it down. Then right after feeling ashamed for using a sacred artefact she proceeded to pray for forgiveness at the altar)

She was sure she could try.

While Michikatsu was swinging his sword she had got up from the step with a stumble. She wobbled a little and grabbed the handle bars to steady herself.

She took a deep breath and slowly walked down the stairs which suddenly seemed like a herculean task.

She set her sandal-covered feet onto the courtyard with an unnecessary effort and started walking towards Michikatsu who was only a few metre's ahead of her.

With every step she took her body seemed to get heavier. It felt like weights were being tied to her ankles every time she lifted her foot.

The distance seemed to widen between her and her brother. Her eyelids seemed to get heavier too.

And with another single undignified step her knees collapsed on her. She fell down to the floor with a thump! as her body relaxed and crumpled over on the ground.

Her eyes got blurry as she saw Michikatsu rush over to her tired body and listened to him shout out something she couldn't hear

She closed her eyes and untensed her body. Falling into the pitch black void of unconciousness.

☆♡☆

[F/N] lay motionless in her bed.

A wet cloth lay over her forehead and a light blanket was lain on top of her.

It was two months since that day she collapsed. She was carried by Michikatsu and was rushed to the nearest village where she was seen by a doctor who gave her the diagnosis.

It was her mothers illness, Turning out to be hereditary and passed down onto [F/N]. However this seemed to be more severe and had developed into later stages quickly.

The doctor had said that she should be put in bedrest but despite Michikatsu's yelling and paranoid yelling there was no cure.

The first few days consisted of Michikatsu being hunched over her bed refusing to leave her side. Over the two months he had grown even worse than he did before.

He was angry before. Competitive, Hostile, Aggressive you name it. But now?

Now he was paranoid, Jumpy, Clingy piled on with all of those traits before.

Yorichii couldn't get through to him, He didn't hide his ire towards Yorichii now and hissed insults at him whenever he tried to speak to Michikatsu.

The first month was Michikatsu searching for a cure. He'd travel from village to village trying to find a doctor who could cure [F/N]. He scoured the Shrine's libraries and had gone mad trying.

Four days ago he had told [F/N] that he was going out again and that she was not to leave her bed unless she was going to get food or do her prayers, Which [F/N] had begged to be allowed.

He had stocked up enough food and water in the pantry for his trip when he left.

He told her that he would be back in two days, It was four now. Yorichii had been with her the first month but after he was called out on a very important mission he never came back.

When she asked Michikatsu what happened to him, He wouldn't tell her.

To say [F/N] was worried was an understatement. Michikatsu was never late, He'd always sent his crow to let her know even if he was.

Suddenly she was aware of a loud creaking. The main shrine gates.

Michikatsu must be back, [F/N] thought. A rush of excitement ran through her and overpowered the cold sweat of her sickness.

She'd gotten up from her futon and wrapped herself in her blanket to prevent the cold winter air from bothering her too much.

It was snowing outside. A blizzard had grown strong while she had slept earlier. Before when she was well in the health department she had prepared well for the winter and could survive during it, Making the inside of the shrine warm all throughout the season.

Now however that she depended on her brothers who were nowhere to be found the cold permeated the hallways and stung the tips of her fingers and nose.

She shivered and slid open the shoji doors to hobble through the hallways towards the courtyard, Ready to greet Michikatsu.

However when she quietly opened the door she wasn't greeted by Michikatsu. But instead two strange men with swords standing in the snowstorm. who hadn't seem to notice her yet

"This is it? Seems rundown." One of the men said

"According to his crow this is where he has been staying for the past few months. He must be here, Someone must pay for what he did and hiding here won't prevent what's coming to him." The other growled, Anger etched onto his features.

[F/N], A little insulted at her shrine being called run down, Made herself known by letting out a loud cough.

"Who are you? And what are you doing at my shrine?" The girl asked

The two looked up at the source. Their hands jumped to their sheathed swords as they looked up at her in antagonism.

They slowly approached her, So much so that they were now standing under the wooden porch roof.

[F/N] stumbled back in a way of getting distance between her and the men.

The one that called her shrine rundown stepped forward. He bowed down in respect to her.

"Greetings there. We're sorry to trouble you but we're looking for a man. His name is Yorichii Tsugikuni. He wears hanafuda earing's and his hair in a ponytail. Have you seen him anywhere?" He said.

Swords. Right. These must be Yorichii's colleagues. [F/N] relaxed slightly.

"Oh, You two must be his co-workers!" She exclaimed, Relief flooding her system.

She curtsied in respect.

"My name is [F/N] Tsugikuni. I am his younger sister, Unfortunately I haven't seen him for a month or two and I don't know where he's been. Apologies." I sighed.

The two men looked at each other.

"Sister? You're his sister?" The angrier one said, A hint of hostility in his voice.

Suddenly a chill ran up her spine, Something was wrong.

"Uhm.. Yes." [F/N] said with caution. Though she was tempted to lie, It just wasn't in her nature.

The angrier man now referred to as Man A gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword tighter.

"Well. I don't know if you know this but two months ago your brother... Messed up, Per se. Causing a great loss towards the demon corps..." He said. His words implied something unknown to [F/N]. The corners of her lips twitched. Demon corps? Messed up? The meaning eluding her.

"A lot of people got hurt. Including our father." Man A sneered. His face the exact visage of vengeance.

Man B behind him wasn't as such but still held a face of stone.

The realisation of what was happening hit [F/N] like a freight train. Her hands grew sweaty as they quickly rushed the shoji doors.

"I... I am so sorry to hear that. B-But unfortunately my brother isn't here right now... I've got to go tend to the haiden. Please, Come back later." Her voice trembled and shook despite how much she tried to keep her tone steady and confident.

As her hands tried to quickly shut the shoji doors the metal of a sword stopped the doors from opening fully.

[F/N] yelped and stumbled back from the door. The two men forced their way into the shrine hallway. [F/N] felt her back hit the wall.

"I'm sorry about what is to happen. But Yorichii Tsugikuni needs to pay for what he did and the death of his sister will bring about our revenge. Please forgive us." Man B said finally unsheathing his sword.

Run.

[F/N]'s feet grew light as she took off down the shrine hall, The two men hot on her tail as she careened round the corners and throughout the shrine.

She felt her heart pound heavy in her chest. Both from the almost paralysing fear and the illness coursing throughout her system.

Her legs felt weak but carried on. Her pace just a little bit faster than the men behind her despite all odds, She unconsciously thanked the hours she spent out in the woods running around for resources.

Tears burst like a dam from her eyes and flew from her eyes as she sprinted. Choked sobs periodically interrupted the heavy breaths she took from running.

The faster she ran, The more corners she turned the more thoughts ran rampant throughout her head.

Exits? Only the main gate which she was currently running away from and were closed on the way in, It takes too much time to open those doors and the men would catch up to her in no time. Convince them to stop? Impossible. The men seemed determined in their goal and no amount of talking would change anything. The hidden room? On the other side of the shrine and she didn't have the key on her

[F/N] had gained a bit of distance from the men at this point, Having shook them off her trail for a very short amount of time.

She ran to where her heart took her, To the place she felt safest.

The offering hall which use to look bright and full of flowers, baskets of food and was spotless now was empty and cold. The candles went long unlit and a bit of dust built up and went into the air when she slammed open the doors, Making her cough.

[F/N] ran to the altar with her legs trembling. She fell to her knees in front of it crying her eyes out. Her body positioned into its usual prayer formation as she choked out her sobs.

"Please! Inari. I-I'm going to die... I haven't asked for anything from the day I've got here... Please spare my life.. L-Let me live! I don't want to die, Inari. Please.. Please.." [F/N] broke down in front of the altar as she chanted please over and over again like a sacred sutra.

She wailed quietly in front of the shrine letting all her emotions out from her eyes.

She never noticed the men standing behind her as she prayed. Their expressions serious and unaffected by the girl's unheard prayers.

Man A raised his katana. Holding it in his grasp he raised it high above his head.

And with a yell he swiftly brought it down.

Blood splattered the offerings room. Drenching the two men and the girl below, The blade going straight through her back.

☆♡☆

Cold.

It was so cold.

The men had left her there bleeding, How long ago she didn't know.

She had made her way out of the shrine. Past the main doors, Past the entrance gate and the pathway and out into the main part of the forest.

The blade had went right through her chest out the other side, She gripped it tightly while the blood stained her dragon-patterned haori colouring it crimson.

It was a miracle she had got this far out into the blizzard. The tip of her nose had frozen and her jaw chattered letting out cold air.

She weakly turtled into her haori for warmth however it proved futile.

The white snow behind her left a red trail as she walked.

Soon enough it was too much.

Soon enough, She collapsed.

☆♡☆

Quickly throughout the forest, Kokushibo ran quickly up the mountain through the unrelenting blizzard, Which never stung him in the slightest.

It had only been a few hours since he woke up from consuming that man's blood. His appearance now changed from the transformation which took three days to complete.

He carried a vial of that mans blood in one of his hands. He remembered the deal vividly in his mind.

Strength for him, A way to become stronger. Stronger than his brother. A way to avoid the eventual fate of all those who bore the demon slayer mark.

And a vial of that man's blood to save his dying sister.

He ran like hell. Snow crunching from the rapid footsteps behind him.

He stopped however, When the faintest scent of blood invaded his senses.

All three sets of his eyes widened.

He picked up his pace again. Now heading toward the smell.

His heartrate picked up. It couldn't be. It can't. [F/N] was alright. She was okay. Even now after becoming a demon, He still felt possessiveness affection towards his sister.

He came to a halt.

His heart dropped to his stomach as he tried to comprehend the sight in front of him. His eyes widened and his jaw slack open.

There in the snow, Lay a body curled up in a fetal position.

Snow had built up on it. It lay motionless buried in the snow.

He recognised it as [F/N].

"[F/N]!!" He yelled, running over to the body.

He fell to his knees in front of her and shoved off all the built up snow.

He pulled her body so her head was laying down on his lap. He shook her gently.

"...[F/N].. Wake up. Come on." He whispered. His shaking now growing more frantic to her lack of response.

He looked at the vial in his right hand.

Opening her mouth he popped open the seal and poured the red liquid into her mouth.

He watched it pour onto her tongue and down her throat. He waited for the reaction.

However, Nothing came.

He waited and waited. Nothing.

He felt his eyes water and flow out from them as the dawning realisation hit him.

He was holding his little sister's corpse in his arms.

He couldn't protect her. She had died and he wasn't there to protect her.

He yelled, Screamed and cried. In anger, Frustration, Sorrow, Guilt and mourning for his loss. He couldn't do anything.

However when he finally noticed the stab wound he realised this was murder. He could do something.

He carried his sister's body in his arms and pulled her close to his chest as he quietly grieved for her.

He brought her body back to her beloved shrine and set her down at the head of the shrine where she loved the most.

He'd deal with her body later. But for now he had to get revenge for the death of his little sister.

Using his blood demon art to make a sword he gripped it tight.

He set off into the blizzard already with a scent on the targets.

He looked back once at the shrine. The last remaining parts of his humanity dying in there with his sister

And with that he left. Never to look back again.

☆♡☆

It was five hundred years ago.

Kokushibo began reminiscing when he sat in front of her gravestone. What he did that night.

He had gotten his revenge, The two slayers slowly tortured and then eaten by him. Their screams and their pleads for mercy when they showed [F/N] none.

He had started with the fingers and toes, Then he moved up to the lower limbs, Slowly he ate them alive. He made one of them watch him while he ate, All before he moved onto them.

He made them confess who killed her to which after a little persuasion they admitted easily.

They got the worst of it, He didn't even eat him after the torture. Just left him pinned to a tree bleeding out. He had put him up high only giving him the options of freezing to death, bleeding out or dying from the fall.

The memories rewound in his head like a film. Flashing memories of when she was born and he got to cradle her in his arms. All the way up until he only held her lifeless corpse, Killed too soon.

He had mourned for a long time after that, Never really getting over her death, Not even now as he set down the new flowers on her grave built near the house they grew up in.

He couldn't bring himself to consume her body, He could never. It was too much.

He got up and dusted himself off, Just like she use to do.

He turned away and walked into the night, Melding into the shadows as he went off to find his next meal.

☆♡☆

The morning rays shun down on the Ubuyashiki Estate. Flowers in full bloom with wisteria ripe in the air.

Birds chirped and grasshoppers hummed in the bushes. The neatly trimmed and well kept garden a fit home for them

The Hashira had gathered and stood in front of the porch awaiting the arrival of their master. They talked amongst themselves in the meantime.

Mitsuri, The Love Hashira tugged on the hand of another. A soft smile gracing her face.

"Fujimori-san! You should really come out with me sometime, It's been ages since we've done something together!" Mitsuri teased lightly.

Fujimori laughed lightly from behind the kitsune mask with cerulean markings he (he?) wore. The medival english looking sword positioned in front of him pointing downward, His two hands gripping the katana-like hilt.

He was tall and muscular but had more of an athletic build. He had tattoo's from his neck to his lower arms describing pictures typically seen in shrine art.

His blue dragon-patterned haori that was draped around his lower arms lightly wove in the wind along with his [H/C] locks tied into a ponytail.

"What do you mean? We went on a mission together last week!" He chuckled.

Mitsuri huffed and lightly gripped his hand

"When I mean spend time together I mean like we should go to a hot spring or go out to eat together or-" Mitsuri continued rambling on as she listed off possible activities they could do together.

Fujimori, [F/N] listened intently onto her as she talked.

She (She? She.) however was only thinking of his visions: A sick woman, A woman with fox markings and a man in a purple hakama.

She'd need to figure it out later.

Next chapter

[raayllum]

Allegorical Rayllum in "Dreamer's Nightmare"

Really thought I'd walk out of Dreamer's Nightmare thinking more about the broyals + Harrow, or an Ezran centric meta (and there may be ones to follow) but this was something that stuck out to me on my first two read throughs and was a truly unexpected part of the graphic novel so...

This is exactly what it says on the tin, and full spoilers for all of Dreamer's Nightmare.

Let's go

Crumbs

The biggest crumb(s) we get are arguably Callum 1) recognizing the mural as belonging to an elven temple, and 2) this panel below that definitely made me chuckle.

I also, accordingly, lost my mind over the elf-toy from 1x04 being a gift given to Ezran / the boys by the end of the comic, which seems to be modelled both after the Moonshadow elf featured in the story, and of actual canon Rayla per 1x04 itself, down to the girl having a similar hair style, markings, and being a sword wielder. (This also informs our basis for the next section.)

However, the definitely meatier stuff has to do with the Dream Warden (DW) creature, its history, and Ezran's interactions with it, so that's where we'll be focusing, and subsequently big spoilers for the graphic novel. Last chance to get out if you hadn't read it yet!

Identity and Loss

So there's a few things we learn about DW and their little mortal friend.

Long ago, a Dream Warden, still new to the world, befriended a mortal child. This violated the traditions of its kind, but the Dream Warden was young. Each night, it flew to the silver shores of sleep and each night found its friend there, wide-eyed and waiting. And beneath the watchful stars, they could adventure together through the child's dreaming world. But one night, sleep blossomed into dream, the Warden found itself alone. The child did not appear that night, nor any night that followed. The Dream Warden searched dream after dream for its friend. Sorrow became fear came anger, and soon the Warden left nothing but nightmares to flower in its wake.

This happens, of course, because the child has grown up and left their old dreaming behind, and the relationship between youth and dreams vs adulthood (actual and perceived) is something the comic is likewise interested in. Callum wants to be grow up so he can help, but as Harrow says, "Part of being grown-up is looking out for others," and there are many moments Callum acts far more like the 9-11 year old child that he is here than an adult, even if he is definitely more mature by the novel's close than he was at the beginning (and so on and so forth into S1 / beyond).

It is these two things — the abandonment of dreams (a life with Callum) to taking up an 'adult' task (assassinating Viren) in the name of "looking out for others" (Callum, the world) — that leads to Rayla leaving in Through the Moon. This is due to having fallen out of favour the idea that she's "stronger together" (BH) with anyone and missing the memo the boys receive/believe from Harrow—and their mother's actions—that they are "safest together".

So we have a Moon creature (seemingly) befriending an elven (mortal) child, even though doing so goes against the traditions of its kind. Then one day the Moon elf disappears in the action / guise of growing up, leaving the DW despondent, angry, and alone. Saddened, fearful, and furious they leave behind nightmares. [Sidenote: I do love the consistent metaphor of blossoming to flowering, it's nice.] Eventually, they fall into a deep depression and slumber.

This is a pretty close beat-for-beat of Esmeray as well, down to being left behind by a creature connected to the Moon arcanum who specifically "mysteriously dies"/leaves and subsequently causing an icy, snowy storm that shrouds the heavens (hides the starlight) until a return and/or reconciliation.

When she disappeared, she left you all alone. In pain. The storm isn't your rage. It's your grief. Your loneliness. On moonless nights, you miss her the most.

All of this is, however, mostly subtext, even if Callum and Esmeray match up in S6 and S4 in more than one instance, so I thought going through Dreamer's Nightmare that Callum's evident parallels to DW, and even Rayla to the moon child, that it would likewise remain subtext. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't.

Ezran

I've talked about Ezran and Rayla and their parallels before, decently extensively. Despite having different personality presentations, they have very similar cores. Both are less inclined towards violence in spite of Ezran having access to power and in spite of Rayla's upbringing, both have received prejudiced consequences for things they couldn't control (the assassin hit out on Ezran due to his father's crimes / Rayla being Ghosted partially because of her parents' as well as being seen as a monster), and these things contribute to them questioning perceived monstrosity more than, say, Callum, would.

We see this even reflected in Dreamer's Nightmare, where Callum despairs and in a desire to protect him and Ez, defaults to, "If I can't fight it, what can I do?" versus Ezran stating, "I can't fight you, and even if I could, I don't want to."

And while I have other thoughts on Callum and the 'monster' motif / label that you can read here, what I want to reaffirm here is the way through Ezran's connection with the Dream Warden, we also highlight his understanding of Callum both in the graphic novel and while Rayla was away / in the early days of her return.

Callum as a character has always been a character with a tenuous grasp on his own identity, especially in arc 1. He states in 2x04 that "when I got magic, I finally felt like myself" in trying to explain "how I've lost that. I'm just trying to find my way back". I think we can draw a point of comparison between Callum losing magic and not feeling like himself and Callum losing his mother and not feeling like himself, both in the immediate aftermath and repeatedly on the anniversary of her death. We also see elements Ezran mentions of Callum not feeling like himself (not drawing, his anger) that come out in S4 / 4x01 and 4x02, notably while Rayla was gone. It's only after she returns and they've begun to reconcile that we see Callum draw again (5x02) for example and indeed be more relaxed (somewhat) with his temper.

Through these periods, though, Ezran has been his cornerstone. Callum was lost in grief with Sarai, but finds his way back to Ezran; Ezran guides him out of the tower in 1x03 and into the quest to Xadia; Ezran is there even when Rayla is not, and Ezran encourages him to open up, recognizing there just as he does with the Dream Warden:

But it's easy to lose ourselves if we don't let others in. And I don't think you want to be angry and alone forever.

So Ezran through his assertions and understanding of both his brother in the comic's present, as well as the Dream Warden, takes everything that was previously subtext for Callum in the graphic novel as a character in the context of how he responds to loss (specifically Sarai and Rayla's loss), and makes it text:

DW lost their Moon arcanum connected best friend and fell into a furious sorrow, and that sorrow being disturbed is what brings the angered splintering back in full force. Dreamer's Nightmare ends, of course, with the creature being pacified and presumably going to bond with more new children, rather than just being shut away forever. Since Rayla isn't fully gone, and since she comes back, his tale of moon-friend-disappearing related woe ends differently with the full reconciliation, but the period of processing the grief and anger to "to hope and maybe forgive and love again" (4x03) remains the same.

This bodes well for theories regarding his love for Rayla and despair/desperation over losing her being what turns Callum into a 'monster' in S7, by which I mean Callum believing himself to become a monster through helping Aaravos / dark magic corruption, and believing himself to be something worth killing (4x07, 6x03) should those things transpire. But as Ezran says, all it takes is one (or two) people seeing you through the periods of anger, sadness, or splintered corruption to bring you back to your whole self again. Given the basis for Dreamer's Nightmare, I'm extremely hopeful that both Ezran and Rayla will have their roles to play in bringing Callum back to himself, just as Ezran's bonds with Callum and with Rayla will undeniably play a part in bringing Ezran back to himself, too.

With all this in mind, let's talk about the doll.

The Elf Toy

So the elf doll haunts me, nor is this new, by any means. I posted a bit about it when Dreamer's Nightmare had just come out, but I've had my eye on this thing since I first noticed the game motif some time after S3 aired. While it's since expanded to include Aaravos and his pawns (and dark magic) more directly in arc 2, said game motif in arc 1 mostly referred to the Key of Aaravos, with the motif and key itself being properly introduced in 1x04: "This is the game room, cube should be in there" / "It's a toy. A piece from a children's game."

A game motif oriented episode that then, therefore, likewise introduces a toy Rayla stand in, and one that Dreamer's Nightmare, purposefully being released before S7 for evident reasons for both brothers at least, harkens back to directly.

Like I think I can speak for all of us when I say I never thought we'd see the damn thing again. It's in 1x04 primarily to just emphasize how humans (namely Amaya) have always seen elves as scary monsters, it looks like Rayla to drive that subsequent point home, and yes it's a toy in an episode with the series' core Game Motif being centred for the first time, but that doesn't mean it's automatically connected. I'd like it to be, I think it'd be fun and very on brand for TDP's style of writing if it was.

That's said, let's go over it from various angles, starting with order of events:

Kid has elf toy, is buried under rubble

Callum and Ez pull them out and usher the kid to safety

The boys / Ezran resolve the conflict and defeat the 'monster,' with Ezran realizing it's not a monster, and instead relating it to Callum explicitly

The boys receive the elf toy as a gift

The most direct reasoning here, then, goes twofold:

Placing the toy here adds depth to Ezran thinking back in 1x04 about what makes something/someone a monster, which is the subject of the conversation at hand, and how it was incorrect

It is here in DM because we're revisiting the Banther Lodge next season, and there's going to be an emphasis on seeing people (others towards Callum; Ezran towards Runaan) not as monsters / reminding Ezran of his love for Rayla. We may see the toy, probably not, but that could be the thread

Therefore, that is where I think I'd leave it in terms of being a toy with a deeper purpose... if not for the fact it's referred to as a Gift. I've talked about the gift motif here in TDP and how arc 2 makes it much more of an emphasis, largely in regards to magic and magical sources of power:

However, where it's most notable in the 'gifts' Aaravos gives: his pawns are not just his pawns, but often tethered to him through magical objects. Claudia's current pawn intro has the Sun staff, which was given from Aaravos to Viren to her; Callum has the cube, a similarly ancient relic passed down through generations; "Lay it down? But it was a gift," Ziard says, the Staff clutched in his hand, and Viren later cites it explicitly a toy: "You had a lifetime to play with your toys, but now you hide them all away or destroy them."

To the point that throughout the various gifts given (the moon opal pendant, Rayla's goodbye letter, the sun orb from the Sun, the trio's gifts of sacrifice to Rex Igneous, Janai's sword and Miyana delivering the sun seed, and more I'm sure) the only things referred to as / that are both gifts and toys are the Key of Aaravos and the Relic Staff.

And, now thanks to Dreamer's Nightmare, the Elf (Rayla) doll.

Obviously this doesn't mean the elf doll is an ancient relic, or powerful, or even important, I think. Not on a literal level. But the final pages do tease it's a bringer of misfortune, which Rayla absolutely is (or is supposed to) when she lands on the boys' doorstep 6-5 years later. She's assumed to be a bringer of misfortune at said Banther Lodge where both the toy and cube are found, which is why she's taken captive.

What characters thus far receive things in the graphic novels, too, comes into play later. Claudia's map to the unicorn she acquired in The Puzzle House seemingly fulfilled its purpose pre-series with her tracking one down already, only to have another purpose in mind as of 7x01.

It's not beyond the realm of possibility to me, therefore, with all this in mind:

The doll was included as a throwback to 1x04

It will have importance

This importance will possibly relate to Rayla

If the motif of it being a gift and a toy is relevant, than the objects on par with it are the Relic staff and Key of Aaravos

Something something "Rayla's life is a fair exchange for the Key of Aaravos" because we all know what we're doing here by now

In summary: you lost your Moonshadow elf best friend and that caused you to become a monster / nightmare ("we had to fight our own people, it was a nightmare") and Dreamer's Nightmare just expected me to feel totally normal even before interweaving the gift motif into the game/toy motif with the damn Rayla stand in doll from 1x04 of all episodes. Yeah.

And that's really all I got for this one, but I hoped you enjoyed the allegorical thread break down and the game motif theorizing!

[ixtaek]

A fast fluffy idea I had at work

Wolfie was excellent for comfort.

When anyone had a rough fight he would appear and circle to be sure they didn’t try to walk it off. When nightmares woke one of the heroes up—visions of curses and dying family and moons and wars and birds and blights—he would curl by their side, even begrudgingly tolerating a few pats or snuggles until they fell back asleep. When homesickness drove a hero to retreat into silence, Wolfie would distract them with mock wrestling or herd them to the group until they opened back up. He had sat with, under, and on all of them at least once.

All but Twilight.

Legend saw the rancher take the heavy hit that day, but no wolf joined him to be sure he didn’t try to hide it. He heard Twilight crying in his sleep, tossing as the pain of the bandaged wound pulled with his gasps, but no divine beast snuggled to his side till he stilled. He saw the sadness in Twilight’s face when Wild and Flora leaned into each other, when Time made a show of rubbing noses with Malon. The loneliness he endured silently.

Of course Wolfie couldn’t comfort Twilight. He was Wolfie.

Legend was sitting on watch when he heard the rancher’s breathing pick up again in his sleep. The man’s hands gripped his bedroll, searching for comfort unconsciously. No one else was awake. Anyone else, Legend mused, would be better at soothing Twilight than him. He could wake Time, or Wild. They’d surely noticed Twilight’s distress if Legend had.

He stood, popping his back, and moved closer. The rancher was calling for someone, teeth grinding as he did. Legend could see tears forming under his fluttering eyelids. Legend was not good at this.

His eyes fell on Twilight’s things. No one else was awake as he reached into the rancher’s bag.

-

Twilight woke with a start, panic melting into confusion almost immediately. He could smell something familiar, the acrid smell of Twili magic lingering in the air after a transformation. He looked at his hands. They weren’t paws. The words that had choked in his throat all day finally found an outlet as he realized something was on his lap.

“Vet..?”

“If you wake the others and they see this, I’ll bite you.” The pink rabbit shoved its head under his hand. “You were having a nightmare. Normally Wolfie deals with this for the others.” Legend took Twilight’s wrist, guiding it along his ear. “Since Wolfie can’t show up for you, you’ll have to deal with a substitute.”

Twilight stroked the fur, blinking to clear the tears still lingering. Legend sighed, unconsciously leaning into the rancher’s touch. Twilight felt warmth swell in his chest as he scooped his brother up, ignoring the slight squeak as he hugged him to his chest. The fur tickled his cheek, smelling like old metal polish and apple blossoms, nothing like home and everything like family and care and compassion. Legend grumbled, but nuzzled Twilight’s face all the same, whispering that he was ok and he was strong and they were there for him.

“Thank you.” Twilight breathed.

Wolfie was excellent for comfort.

But as Twilight sat, petting soft fur and listening to murmured affirmations, he was glad to know his brother would return that comfort just as freely.

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 8)

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

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2838

warnings/notes: n/a

Chapter 8: A Secret to Safeguard

The first rays of dawn filtered through the dense canopy. The golden light flickered across Bonnie’s serene face, illuminating her features with a soft glow that made the horrors of the preceding night seem like distant nightmares. As Bonnie began to stir, her eyelids fluttered like delicate butterfly wings, confusion and fear momentarily clouding her gaze as she adjusted to the unfamiliar surroundings. The rustic cabin was filled with the scent of pine and earth, a stark contrast to the harsh metallic tang of blood and chaos that had marked their last location.

“Austin?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, fragile and uncertain in the quiet morning air.

He knelt beside the bed, his large hand taking hers, squeezing it gently. “Bonnie.”

Her eyes searched his face, desperate for reassurance. “What happened? I remember… pain…” Her voice broke as flashes of memory returned—sharp and disorienting.

Austin’s heart clenched at her confusion and fear, his resolve hardening. He couldn’t shield her from the truth forever. “You… transformed last night, Bonnie. For the first time. And then there was an incident.” Austin’s voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “Victor found us. He threatened to tell the whole pack about you. It... it got violent. You didn’t know what you were doing. You defended me—it was instinctual.”

Bonnie's breath hitched, her hand trembling within his grasp. "Did I... did I kill him?" Her voice was barely audible, a fearful whisper that echoed in the sparse cabin. The weight of her potential actions bore down on her, threatening to suffocate her newfound resolve.

Austin’s jaw tightened as he nodded slowly, confirming her fears. "It was self-defense, Bonnie. Victor was power-hungry and reckless. He would have hurt many, including you." His throat felt tight as he watched the horror unfold across Bonnie's features, her pale skin losing even more color.

She withdrew slightly, pulling her hand free from his. "I'm a monster," she murmured, curling into herself on the bed like a wounded animal seeking refuge from its own nature.

"No," Austin said firmly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. "You are not a monster. You are strong, Bonnie. Stronger than you know." His voice softened as he added, "This world... It’s cruel and unforgiving, but you’re not alone in this."

Bonnie looked up at him then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How can I ever live with myself knowing what I've done?"

Austin leaned closer, his presence a sturdy reassurance. "You learn, you grow, and you survive," he said solemnly. "This is our reality, and while it’s brutal, it doesn’t define who we are. We define ourselves by how we handle these situations."

Bonnie bit her lip, considering his words through the fog of her turmoil. The moonlight filtered through the cabin window, casting silver streaks across the wooden floor and reflecting off Austin's intense eyes, making them appear almost ethereal. "I want to believe that," she finally whispered.

Austin moved closer, his hand steady on her back, grounding. "And you will," he acknowledged, his voice gritty with shared pain. "You need to hold on to the fact that you did what you had to do to protect yourself—and me."

There was a long silence filled only by the wind rustling against the cabin walls before Bonnie spoke again. "What about the pack? What if they find out?"

"That’s where I come in," Austin replied firmly, his protective instincts surging to the surface. "I won’t let anything happen to you."

His words were meant to comfort, but the gravity of their situation hung between them like thick smoke. Bonnie nodded slowly, absorbing his promise with a mixture of fear and relief.

The morning progressed, each minute stretching long and taut as Bonnie gradually adjusted to the light, both literal and metaphorical, of her new reality. Austin, meanwhile, was lost in thought, strategizing their next move. The gang would surely be stirring, questions would be asked, and Jerry’s suspicious nature would not make things any easier.

“I need to go back,” Austin said abruptly, his tone leaving no room for discussion. He stood up, pacing the small cabin with restless energy that seemed too expansive for the confined space. “I have to make sure the story about Victor is handled right. Can’t let rumors spread or they’ll come hunting.”

Bonnie’s heart sank at the thought of being left alone, but she understood the necessity of his departure. “Will they believe you?” Her voice sounded small in the vast wilderness that surrounded them.

“They’ll have to.” Austin’s response was gruff as he stopped his pacing to look down at her. “Jerry might push back, but Bear will stand by me. He knows what’s at stake.”

The mention of Bear brought a slight sense of relief. Robert "Bear" Johnson had always been a calming force within the turbulent dynamics of the gang.

“What should I do while you’re gone?” Bonnie asked, trying to mask her anxiety with a semblance of composure.

"Stay here, keep low, and don't open the door for anyone but me," Austin instructed, his voice firm yet coated with concern. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "I'll be back as soon as I can. If anything happens, if you feel threatened in any way, there’s a revolver under the floorboards by the bed. Use it only if you must."

Bonnie nodded solemnly, the weight of his directive cementing itself within her. The responsibility of self-defense was a chilling reminder of her new reality. "Okay," she whispered, trying to steady her trembling voice.

Austin's eyes lingered on her a moment longer, his gaze intense and probing. He cupped her face in his hands pulling her into a tender kiss. As their lips parted, Austin's gaze hardened once again with the reminder of the dangers that lay ahead. "Remember, trust no one," he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken worries. He stood, adjusting the leather jacket that seemed to armor him against more than just the elements.

Outside, the wind had picked up, howling like the distant cousins of his kind, weaving through the dense trees that shrouded the cabin. He paused at the doorway, hand on the frame, and looked back at Bonnie. This glimpse of vulnerability was rare and fleeting but spoke volumes of his inner turmoil.

"I love you," he said simply, the words stark against the howling wind, before turning and stepping into the night.

Bonnie watched him disappear into the shadows, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and love. Left alone in the eerie stillness of their temporary sanctuary, she felt each creak and moan of the settling cabin amplify her anxiety. She moved to the window, peering out into the woods where shapes seemed to move with sinister fluidity between trees. Drawing the curtains quickly, she backed away from the window, suddenly aware of just how exposed they had been.

Meanwhile, Austin rode through the night, his sleek black motorcycle purring beneath him as it devoured the winding roads. The roar of the engine cut sharply through the stillness, echoing off the trees and sending shivers down his spine. His mind was in turmoil, a jumble of thoughts and emotions that matched the chaotic twists and turns of the road. Fear for Bonnie's safety gnawed at him like a relentless beast, drowning out any sense of calm or clarity that usually came with riding. But tonight, even the open road could not provide an escape from the relentless storm raging within him.

As he approached their secluded headquarters, the low murmurs of conversation and the occasional clatter of tools greeted him. The air was thick with tension, despite the everyday scene of bikes being tuned and polished. The scent of oil and grease hung in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of coffee brewing in a nearby corner. The sound of metal against metal echoed off the walls, creating a symphony of mechanics at work.

Jerry emerged from the shadows, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the flickering bulbs in the garage. His face, usually unreadable, carried a hint of unease tonight. His eyes swept over the gang members busily engaged with their bikes before settling on Austin.

"Austin," Jerry called out, his voice low and urgent as he approached. The clatter around them seemed to momentarily fade into the background as tension knotted the air.

Austin turned, his expression shifting to one of guarded concern. "What's up, Jerry?"

"It's Victor," Jerry said, glancing around before continuing. "He hasn't shown up since last night's hunt. No one has seen him or heard from him."

Austin's heart hammered in his chest as he steadied his gaze, careful not to let the whirlwind of emotions betray him. "Is that so?" he responded, his voice even and controlled, masking the cold dread that snaked through him.

Jerry nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah, and you know Victor. He ain’t one to vanish without a word. Folks are starting to ask questions." His tone was accusatory, a sharp edge cutting through the rumble of engine noise surrounding them.

Austin leaned back against his bike, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm sure there's an explanation. Victor's probably laying low for some reason. You know how he gets—always up to something." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he knew maintaining composure was crucial.

Jerry watched him closely, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "Maybe," he conceded grudgingly.

"But we need to be sure. The pack can't afford to have loose ends." His stance was rigid, mirroring the severity of the situation. The garage seemed to shrink with the weight of his words, enclosing them in a silent pact of suspicion and duty.

Austin nodded, understanding the implications. "I'll handle it," he asserted firmly, hoping to dispel any further doubts Jerry might harbor. "Give me till tomorrow. I’ll sort something out." He knew he had to tread carefully, balancing the lie about Victor with the need to protect Bonnie and maintain his authority within the gang.

Jerry's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he grunted, seemingly appeased for the moment. "Alright," he said finally, stepping back into the shadowed periphery of the garage. "But keep me posted. We can’t let this slide."

As Jerry walked away, Austin felt the pressure mounting. He needed to weave his stories carefully now, more than ever. The gang’s stability, and more critically, Bonnie’s safety depended on it.

Turning away from Jerry’s retreating figure, Austin clenched his jaw, the muscles working under his skin as he calculated his next move. He knew that Jerry's eyes would be on him like a hawk on its prey, watching for any sign of faltering. Walking over to where Bear was adjusting the chain on his bike, Austin tapped his shoulder.

Bear looked up, his large eyes serious and wary beneath bushy eyebrows. "Everything alright, boss?" he asked, his voice low under the din of the garage.

Austin glanced around to make sure they were out of earshot from anyone else. "No, it’s not," he admitted in a hushed tone. "Jerry’s sniffing around about Victor. He hasn't shown up since last night, and you know how suspicions get around here."

Bear wiped his greasy hands on a rag, concern etching his face. "Victor's missing?" he paused, weighing his words carefully.

"Something like that, and it's turning into a problem." Austin said, his voice tense with urgency.

Bear nodded slowly, his expression grave. "What do you need from me?"

Austin looked around again, his piercing eyes scanning the dimly lit garage filled with the soft clatter of tools and the occasional rev of a motorcycle engine. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "I need you to come over tonight. Make sure no one follows you. It’s important that this stays between us for now."

Bear’s brow furrowed in concern, but he gave a firm nod of understanding. "I’ll be there," he assured Austin, clapping him on the shoulder with a heavy, reassuring hand.

As Bear walked away to gather his things, Austin felt a momentary relief before the weight of his responsibilities settled back onto his shoulders. He knew that involving Bear was risky, but the stakes were high, and he couldn't manage everything on his own anymore.

The garage was closing down for the night as Austin mounted his bike. The cool night air brushed against his face as he kick-started the engine, the rumble blending with a thousand thoughts racing through his mind.

He rode back through the dark, winding roads towards the cabin where Bonnie waited. Each turn in the road was familiar, yet tonight they felt unusually menacing, as if each shadow held a threat. The weight of his secrets and the safety of his pack felt heavier than ever as he accelerated, the bike's headlights slicing through the darkness.

Stay tuned for part 9!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @droopycoquette

[virtualfotodivision]

Shadowheart | 07.11.2024 | Baldur's Gate III

Sanguine Nightmare Collection by Moon Blossom. Minthara Dyes or Shadowheart Dyes by ilikedetectives and I. Camera by Frans Bouma. Captured using ReShade.

[green-alm0nd]

[Echo X gn!Artist!Reader]: "You drew stars around my scars"

----

Prompt: "you drew stars around my scars"

Echo has always been insecure about the way he looks, and he was very surprised that you adored him the first time both of you met. Your acts of love have made him feel again, and when he's at his lowest, you always help him out.

----

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sun/Moon type of relationship, reader having a messy room, reader being very bubbly and happy, angst, comfort, mentions of torture, scars, kisses. I'm not a Swiftie, I just like the prompt. A bit short, not proofread.

Enjoy!

----

Echo is a very organised person.

Unlike his partner, who was an artist, and thus had a not so good cleaning routine. Despite that, he still loved you. He loves coming back from a mission and seeing you draw peacefully, not caring about anything else. One thing he wished he could do, was to forget about life with just a single brush and some paint; it was already hard enough to handle nightmares, after all.

What he loved the most about you was the way you showed love: you'd draw things for him, you'd associate his personality with a colour...those little things made him adore you. His scomp link had been resigned and painted over for around 12 times now.

Whenever he felt insecure, you'd always assure him that he was beautiful and you'd draw him to cheer him up.

All of those, however, cannot compare to what made him fall for you. It was just one single act, but that act made the feeling blossom, and it made him fall in love with you.

....

Echo had come back from a mission, tired and exhausted. The Marauder was quiet, besides the 'gonk' noises Gonky made, and the ordinary tool scattering sounds coming from the cockpit, where Tech fixed whatever he was fixing.

The clone felt really insecure today, and he felt a bit down for doing so. He wished, for once, that he didn't get tortured and he wished not to be a machine for once. Yeah, his scomp link was handy at times, but it was annoying to have it stuck on his skin 24/7.

He did have a mechanism to forget about his insecurities, and that was talking to you. Echo was surprised when you had complimented him for being a 'nice model for your art' besides being more machine than human. You also suggested for a few times to paint his scomp link, and give it a more 'modern' look.

He came into your barrack, and quietly sat down on your bed; waiting for you to finish a landscape painting.

Once you finished painting, you turned to face him.

"Echo? Hey, what's up?" You asked, getting a small towel to clean the stains of paint in your face.

Echo looked at the painting, and then at you.

"Nothing much." He replied, even though it was a lie.

You saw right through him, you always did. Whenever you looked at him as if he had ruined an artwork, he'd instantly tell you.

So he told you.

"Just... insecure. About my scomp link." He responded, curtly.

To this, you stared at him, deep in thought.

You grabbed a pencil and started playing with different patterns, before turning to face him.

"Could you remove your top armour?" You asked.

He seemed to hesitate, but he obliged and took his chest plate. With a nod, you lifted his sleeve where his scomp link was, and ordered him to sit with his arm upright.

You slowly took his scomp like off, and gazed at all the scars he had around it.

Echo looked away, deeply embarrassed. What would his brothers say when he explains how he lets nobody touch his scomp link but you're the exception?

He sighed, and focused in wall paintings, instead of watching you examining the area.

After a while, you spoke up.

"Is this what is making you feel insecure?" You asked, to which he nodded and let out a small 'Mostly'.

You grabbed your pen and your acrylic paint and started drawing different designs of stars all around his scars.

Echos eyes lit up, and turned to look at you.

You carefully drew with a pen a star, and paint it with a yellow colour afterwards. And so on, until he had a stars all around his scomp link base.

Once you finished, he was stunned for your actions, and let out a small smile.

"Thank you." He said.

You smiled back, but your grin was always brighter.

"It's nothing. You can count on me if you need anything related to art."

....

And that marks the day Echo sold his soul to a disorganised artist that had once drawn stars around his scars.

----

I am back! And finally inspired to do some work! I will try to post more often.

Stay safe and remember to drink water <3

Ps: I'm not a Swiftie lol

[eris-snow]

𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, meet in dreams, fluff

We met in a dream. Really? Really. Literally? Literally.

"You're here again."

Bakugou whips around, and he catches your eyes again. It's the same empty void, the same white, endless room.

And you're there again.

Waiting for him, it seems.

"Right back at you."

"You're insufferable."

Bakugou chuckles at that. He loves getting under your skin and loves the challenge you give him. Some people are just delightful to annoy, and you're one of those people.

"Rough day?" He asks, striding closer to you. Your face twists into a scowl, and he laughs at that. You wear your heart on your sleeve, no matter how much you try to mask your feelings.

It takes a second before you respond. "Don't laugh, idiot. You don't look any better."

Bakugou winds his arm up, feeling the ache in his bones. Well, you have a point. Training to become a hero isn't just your average high schooler's day-to-day 7 to 5. His battery is flat by the time he ends the day, and the next thing he knows it's morning again.

But this is a dream, his dream, and this isn't his first time here. The both of you have built mountains, painted cherry blossom trees and created sandy beaches straight from your minds.

"We can make anything," Bakugou says.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You peer at him, a smile forming against your lips for the first time tonight.

You look so good when you smile.

"Well then what are we waiting for, Bakugou Katsuki? Let's get to it."

--

Bakugou remembers that night standing in grassy fields with you. It was your turn to set the scene, and you brought hazy green and a strong gale with you as the both of you stare at the moon from the grass.

Bakugou likes the feeling of it. the fields stretch on and on, and he feels free, like he could do anything.

"We can make anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

That's what you had first told him when he first dreamt of this place.

People think he goes to sleep early because he wants to keep his sleeping schedule intact, but his biggest motivating factor is his dreams. Dreams instead of nightmares of his kidnapping, dreams instead of the war.

He loves this, so, so much, and he's grown fond of you.

"Where is this?" He asks. You always have a reason for whatever place you take him.

"Nowhere." You tell him, arms cushioning your head as you stare up at the round, round moon. "I just like the wind in my hair the breath of fresh air. It's so wide, so quiet, and it makes me feel like I can do anything."

It's a good 15 minutes of talking before you sit up abruptly, causing Bakugou to do the same.

"What is it?" He asks.

You look at him before tapping his shoulder lightly. Then, without warning, you take off into the night.

It takes him a good 5 seconds to decipher what you just did. "Oi! You little shit, get back here-!"

He runs and runs chasing after your surprisingly nimble self. He can't use his quirk here, and he knows it'd be unfair if he did anyway, you'd never count it.

No matter, he can tag you without it.

Your voice bubbles with laughter as you dodge his attempts, scaling a sakura tree and watching him trying to grab your shoe.

"Catch me!"

Sakura petals drift down as you jump. Startled, he does, but your momentum causes the both of you to collapse on the ground with a loud thump.

You snicker, he sputters, yelling at you.

"What is wrong with you, dumbass? Does the word bruises exist in your vocabulary? What about injury? You're crazy, you know that?"

His ribcage throbs, but in a good way. The weight on him is good, because you're still laughing, and that's all that matters.

"It's a dream, silly. You don't get hurt in dreams." You reply, getting off his body.

"Come on, catch me."

With that you take off again, and he's racing after you, shouting the entire way.

--

You both do it more often than he'd like to admit. Chasing each other in the grassy fields, you laughing, him shouting, as the wind of eternal spring messes up your hair.

Sprawled on the ground without a care in the world. He loves it. He loves the way you make he feel.

He loves you.

"What are you looking at?"

He glances up, and he sees you hanging lazily from a tree.

You like trees.

Sakura ones, especially.

"You," His lips coil into a smirk, and he grabs a brunch and swings himself up there such that he's right in front of you.

You don't look fazed at all.

He leans in, and the kiss is short and sweet on your lips. You lean in too, and when he pulls back, he settles himself comfortably next to you, bodies comfortably pressed against each other.

"You're blushing," He notes. You try to smack him, but he catches your hand. "Look who's the one getting flustered."

"Insufferable. Downright insufferable." You mutter, yanking your hand out of his grip.

"Says the person who runs around fields for hours at a time."

"Yeah, love you too, asshole." You reply.

We can make anything.

And we did, Bakugou thinks, smiling fondly as holds you closer.

Let him have you, he tells the universe, let him find you.

A remedy for his nightmares, a medicine for his heart.

Catch me, you'd say, and he'd chase you for as long as it takes.

As long as you're here, anytime, anywhere, real or not, it'd be better than just a dream.

--

Author's note: I was gonna write angst but given the option, my sister chose fluff, so arghh-

[pointdointy]

It's been a while since I posted on here, life gets to you sometimes!

Here are some more reimagines for The Apple Family, all keeping to their original design spare for a few tweaks and add ons. Read more for more info on the Verse!

The Apple Family in this Verse, much like in the show, is a big earth pony family spanning many generations throughout the moons. They are traditional, and strictly stick to routine, as evident by their daily chores and the Zap Apple Harvest. They love each other dearly and would do anything to keep themselves safe and sound.

After watching Brotherhoof Social, and Do Princesses Dream of Sheep?, I find it obvious that Orchard Blossom is something more than a one time joke. It seemed all too planned out to be an attempt to get to spend time with Applebloom, or a mean joke to poke fun at men/boys who want to dress and act femininely. In my AU (still searching for the right name for the verse), Orchard Blossom is a transwoman, rocking multiple southern-belle hairstyles and accessories with the help of Rarity. She does not have to deal with bigot ponies for her gender expression, as being trans is a perfectly accepted and normal thing in Equestria, as is other identities. Made her cutiemark reflect her name better with the big apple and blossoms on the front.

For Applejack, read here!

Applebloom is a young school filly with her whole life ahead of her. She started a band of the CMC, but the group, with helping hooves, found she did not need to spend every waking moment with her friends. In this, she did things she wanted to do; potion brewing and building structures were some of the few hobbies she enjoyed. The group still did their weekly cutiemark crusade, but explored what they needed to find their own cutiemarks rather than random activities that they had never done before. In time, Applebloom was the first to get her cutiemark, fitted with the family's trademark apple, and a bloom, befitting her name.

Granny Smith, the mare who founded Ponyville, could write a book with the stories she tells her grandchildren. It may need a few ghostwriters to keep it on track, however. 

After her son and daughter-in-law's untimely death, Granny Smith took their young foals into open arms and single-hoofedly ran the farm while raising the three trouble-makers. It had been difficult, those first few years, but as Orchard Blossom and Applejack matured, the burden grew less, and Granny Smith could take those long naps her body needed. She keeps a frame picture of Bright Macintosh and Pear Butter on her nightstand, and above the family's hearth, making sure to keep their memory alive and well. Misery did not need to taint their home, even if nightmares plagued her sleep, and Applejack had to wake her from a cold sweat.

Time may heal wounds, but they could not heal scars.

If you enjoy my art, please reblog!

[thekillermaretwinz]

Shipchildren List for our lil roleplay AU

Autumn -> @sillytwofaceboi x Harvestmoon

(Image above is Autumn)

Spooks -> @gremlininthedark x Lunar(Killermare)

(Image above is Spooks)

Cherry -> Virion x Blossom

(Image above is Cherry)

Lilith -> @animatronic-assistant (Elara) x @escapetheslaughters (Bloodmoon)

(I do not have a picture for the child yet)

@liminal---nightmare-aliza @multifandomcutie13 @puppet-strung-moon @meowierz

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter One

Top right gif by: @uuuhshiny , bottom left gif by: @userdjarin

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Word count: 4.7k+

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Chapter summary: You're filled with excitement as you share news with your husband, Jack. However, his reaction isn't what you were expecting. His hurtful and hateful words leave you reeling, causing you to reconsider your marriage. Luckily, friends and family are there to help you through.

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut.

Warnings: ANGST, topics of death and mourning, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, pregnancy, divorce, toxic marriage. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: Yes, I'm aware that this piece bears similarities to my first work (Jack Daniels and Frankie Morales) that I shared here. However, I only realized this after creating the graphic at the top. Oops! If you've grown tired of the Whiskey storyline, I have another piece with Dave York available!

"Jack?" You call out, anticipation and happiness filling your voice. Jack brings his head up and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the joy that radiates from you.

"Yes, sugar?" he responds, mirroring your smile with his own.

You can't help but let your smile grow wider. "I'm pregnant!"

But the moment the words escape your lips, Jack's smile vanishes before your eyes. Confusion swirls within you, and you can't understand his reaction. "No, you ain’t," he denies firmly.

You refuse to let his denial dampen your excitement. With a quieter voice, you insist, "Yes, I am."

Again, he denies your claim. "No. You ain’t pregnant." His Southern drawl carries a mix of shock and denial.

He’s got to be in shock, right? you wonder silently, trying to make sense of his reaction. He must be, you reason, which is why you decide to make it more tangible for him.

"I am. Look!" You declare proudly, pulling out the glossy black and white sonogram from your pocket, and presenting it to him.

But to Jack, it all feels wrong. He glances at the sonogram, your name on the top left corner, and the blurry white image representing the tiny life growing inside you. Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, Jack shuts his eyes tightly, wishing desperately that this is all just a nightmare. Meanwhile, you remain over the moon, your gaze fixated on the sonogram, admiring the newly forming person you already love the most. I already love you more than words can describe. You’ll be loved so much, I promise. 

In an instant, a sharp sting shoots through your right fingertips, eliciting a hiss of pain from your lips. Startled, you look down and see the crumpled sonogram on the floor. It becomes clear to you that Jack's intention was simply to drop the picture, but the force behind his action accidentally inflicted pain on your fingers. As you wince from the ache, Jack's realization dawns upon him, triggered by the audible hiss of pain that escaped you. However, the physical pain in your hand pales in comparison to the overwhelming confusion and hurt that now blossoms within you.

The sharp sting brings you back to reality, and you struggle to comprehend why you felt the need to step away from your own husband. Your heartbeat quickens, mirroring the pace of your racing thoughts, as you bend down to pick up the now-bent sonogram.

Jack has never laid a hand on you before, not even in the slightest way. You take a cautious step back, ensuring a safe distance between you. Your voice quivers with a mix of concern and hurt as you ask, "What's wrong with you?"

He shakes his head frantically, before he finally speaks, "This ain’t supposed to happen."

Confusion deepens within you, and you struggle to understand his meaning. "What... what do you mean, love?"

"This ain’t supposed to happen," Jack repeats, his voice filled with desperation.

You remain silent, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to offer an explanation. But his next words cut through you like a knife. "You can't be pregnant... You just can't!"

You flinch back, wounded by his outburst. The pain in his words sears through, and tears well up in your eyes. "This ain’t supposed to happen with you," he continues, his voice filled with anguish. "I... I was supposed to have a family with my wife."

His reference to his first wife, tragically taken from him years before you entered his life, shatters your heart into a million pieces. The weight of his grief and loss settles heavily upon you, mingling with your own pain. You whisper, barely audible, "I'm your wife."

The words escape your lips, your voice barely registering as a hushed murmur. But Jack's confusion echoes in his question, "What?"

"I'M YOUR WIFE!" you shout, your voice filled with hurt and frustration. "It's me! You married me!"

"I held my tongue for so long, but I can't bear it any longer," you continue, your words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up emotions. "You make me feel like the other woman like you didn't even marry me."

"You always call her your wife when I'm right next to you. And no, this isn't being dramatic or exaggerating. Did you know you've always done it? Even my own family noticed and they keep having to pull me aside to tell me about it. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue, because you always do it. That's why no one in my family likes you!"

Tears stream down your face as you pour out your heart, laying bare the insecurities and pain that have haunted you for the entirety of your marriage. "I never told you because I didn't want to seem selfish or disrespectful, but you're the one who only thinks of himself and has no respect for me.”

“¡Dios mio!" You exclaim in exasperation. "I told myself I was going crazy for feeling this way. You said it when we were dating, then when we got engaged, and foolishly, I thought you would stop once we became husband and wife. But no."

"When we were dating and talked about our future, I made it clear that I wanted to get married and eventually have children. You knew this! If you didn't want the same things, we should have parted ways, but you said you wanted it too." You say, your voice choking with emotion.

Your voice cracks with frustration and heartache as you continue, "Well, I guess you needed a big wedding to consider me your wife, huh?” You let out a bitter chuckle, the sound carrying a tinge of despair. “You couldn't even give me the wedding of my dreams. I always wanted a celebration with all of my family, and you disregarded my wishes. Fuck, I should have seen this coming! You didn't want a big wedding to overshadow your perfect one, right?" Your words are filled with bitter resentment as you yell out your frustrations.

"YES!" Jack explodes, his own emotions coming to the surface. "I didn't want to replace her memory with you! My first weddin’ was perfect, and nothin’ could have beat it. So, why should I have tried to replicate it with you? I still love her and my boy so much... I tried with you, but it just ain't right! You need to get rid of it. Y'can't keep goin' through with it. She's the love of my life, and you..."

His words slice through your heart, leaving you in pieces. You collapse into sobs, your entire being overwhelmed by the weight of his contempt of you and the anguish of his lingering love for his late wife. "Your first wedding or your first wife?" You choke out through your tears. 

"Marrying you was the worst decision I ever made." Jack's words hit you like a punch to the gut, intensifying your heartbreak.

Why the hell did he marry me then? Echoes in your head, tormenting you with unanswered questions and self-doubt.

"Then why am I still in your life?" you manage to say, your voice barely audible as you struggle to understand why he hasn't let you go if you're such a disappointment to him.

"Because you're needy and fuckin’ clingy, and you won't let g-" Jack's words are abruptly cut off by your interruption.

"Don't," You interject. "You don't have to finish that sentence." You say through the knot in your throat. "I know where I'm not wanted. Don't worry, I won't force you to stay in this so-called marriage, and I will not force you to be my child's father.”

Your voice trembles with a mixture of sadness and determination, as you gather the strength to continue. "I can't keep being the only one fighting for this relationship. The only one who wants to be in this marriage. I won't even suggest therapy. Remember the last time I asked you to go? You wouldn't fucking talk to me and kept going to her grave and god knows where else! For two weeks! Do you have any idea how I felt? I can't keep doing this. I won't compete with a ghost. Not anymore. I'm done.” After those two weeks, I don’t know how I believe we could have worked through his grief. I just.. I didn’t know he didn’t love me...

The words hang in the air, heavy with finality. You take a deep breath, mustering the strength to continue. "I'll contact my lawyer and initiate the divorce proceedings. The papers should arrive soon. I won't ask you for any financial support for my child. So, just do one last thing for me — I mean, you've never really done anything for me — but sign the papers as soon as you receive them, so I can stop being the wife you despise. I'll stay somewhere else tonight, and people will come tomorrow morning to move all my personal belongings. Anything we purchased together will be sold, and the payment will be spl- You know what? I don't have time for this. My lawyer will clarify everything." The words leave your lips with a mix of sadness and determination, the image of a shattered dream painted across your mind.

Through tear-filled eyes, you gather your strength and make a decision. It's time to take control of your own happiness, to reclaim your sense of self-worth. With a trembling voice, you declare, "I won't let myself be treated like this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who loves and cherishes me. I won't settle for anything less."

You feel drained, your heart shattered, but you know you need to leave. You put the sonogram in your purse and turn to head out, but not before you deliver a final blow. "When someone asks about your wife is, you can say her name. You already do."

Jack stands frozen, his mind filled with regret and the realization of the irreparable damage he has caused. Part of him wants to chase after you, to beg you to stay, but he remains rooted to the spot, consumed by guilt and sorrow. The room feels empty and suffocating, the shattered dreams and broken promises hanging heavily in the air.

Jack's eyes snap open to a sudden commotion reverberating through the walls of his house. His Statesman training kicks in, and he springs out of bed with the speed of lightning. The adrenaline coursing through his veins fuels his urgency to investigate the source of the disturbance. Hastily, he descends the stairs, his mind racing, and his heart pounding in his chest.

As Jack reaches the ground floor, he is met with an unexpected sight. A decent group of movers, your family, and your friends filling the space. Instantly, his gaze falls upon your cousins, aunts, uncles, and fucking Javier Peña. Jack's blood boils with a deep-seated hatred for Javier.

Javier had been your best friend during your early childhood, but with a move across the country, you never saw him again. Until, five months ago, when everything changed. You and Jack were out grocery shopping when you reached for a package of chocolate abuelita. In that split second, a large hand enveloped yours, jolting your attention towards a deep voice that called out, "Cariño?" The whirlwind of emotions Jack experienced was suffocating. He watched, consumed by jealousy, as you recognized the man before you. Witnessing the radiant expression on your face, he saw you embrace Javier and ecstatically exclaim, "Javi!" The sight of your reddened cheeks when you released him, burned a searing image into Jack's memory. Despite Jack’s language barrier, he observed how animatedly you conversed with Javier. Although he couldn't understand most of the conversation, he caught the moment when Javier mentioned that he was only in town for one day and then swiftly requested to exchange contact information. Concealing himself around the corner, Jack surreptitiously observed the scene of you giving Javier one last hug, unable to tear his eyes away.

Right after you parted ways with Javier, you excitedly recounted the encounter to Jack, oblivious to the torment it caused him. You spoke about your long-lost friend Javier, sharing every detail, and Jack listened, pretending it was all fresh information. Before the day was over, you informed Jack that Javier had called to tell you he accepted a position at the local police department and asked you to meet him so you could catch up.

The memories flood back for Jack, his resentment towards Javier intensifying. He vividly remembers the christening of one of your second cousins, a significant event, and one where your family showered Javier with adoration. It was another moment that added fuel to Jack's growing disdain for him.

Now, here he stands, witnessing Javier Peña loitering around his home, overseeing the packing of your belongings into cardboard boxes. The sight ignites an inferno within Jack, further fueling his abhorrence for the man everyone loved.

In a flurry of activity, everyone rushes about, their movements brimming with urgency. Oblivious to Jack's presence, they fail to notice him standing at the bottom of the staircase. Suddenly, your friend, colleague, and lawyer, Raul, approaches Jack, breaking through the chaos. The weight of the forthcoming conversation settles heavily upon Jack as Raul addresses him, his tone grave, "Mr. Daniels, we have some matters to discuss."

Jack tenses, fully aware of the impending storm that awaits him. Every word uttered by Raul feels like a stab wound, each syllable a reminder of the impending divorce. The word echoes relentlessly in his mind, sending shockwaves through his entire being. Jack longs for a blink, a mere blink to make all of this vanish, to have you by his side once more. Deep down, though, he knows he cannot be the father your child deserves, and he fears you'll never take him back after the hurtful words he unleashed. Helplessly, he stands there, his emotions raging, as every piece of your shared life is stripped away. Clothes, jewelry, pictures, shoes, bags, kitchenware, even the goddamn fridge magnets—every item is callously placed into clear bags and then transferred into their respective brown cardboard boxes, their labels written in bold red letters.

The pain intensifies as your favorite cousin removes your wedding pictures from the wall, carelessly flipping them upside down before removing them from their expensive frame, and then unceremoniously tossing only the pictures into a box labeled 'QUE ARDA.' Jack wonders what you plan to do with those cherished memories. He makes a mental note to translate that phrase later, his mind cluttered with thoughts and emotions.

As the relentless dismantling of memories continues, Jack withdraws into the sanctuary of your shared bedroom, seeking solace amidst the chaos. The weight of despair presses upon him, urging him to preserve a fragment of what once was. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he surreptitiously slides one cherished wedding photograph beneath the protective shelter of his underwear drawer. It rests there, hidden from prying eyes, a bittersweet reminder of a love that now hangs by a thread. The image captures the essence of your wedding day, a moment frozen in time where love and hope intertwined. It represents a fleeting glimpse of happiness that Jack yearns to hold onto, to cherish, even if only in the confines of his solitary existence. As his eyes settle upon the drawer, a surge of emotions courses through his veins, reminding him of the role he played in their unraveling.

In the depths of his soul, Jack confronts the painful truth that he bears responsibility for their crumbling relationship. Regret claws at his conscience, its grip unyielding. The yearning to hold onto the photograph, to clutch onto the semblance of what they once had, tugs at his heartstrings. It is a bittersweet reminder of the love they had, now tainted by his own shortcomings and mistakes. To Jack, the photograph is a painful reminder of what he has lost, a reminder that this photograph, like their love, now resides hidden away in the depths of darkness. I did love her, I still do… he finally admits to himself 

But even as he acknowledges his fault, the reality of their situation remains unchanged. The impending finality of divorce looms before him, a painful reminder that holding onto faded illusions will not resurrect her love. With a heavy sigh, Jack turns away, unable to escape the weight of his actions and the consequences that now unfold.

Stepping back, Jack's eyes lock onto the figure of Javier, approaching the room with purpose. Clutching a box labeled 'ROPA,' the weight of past joys and sorrows, Javier carries an unmistakable yellow envelope securely tucked beneath his arm. The sight sends a surge of conflicted emotions coursing through Jack's veins. There, within the confines of that envelope, lies the final decree that will sever the bonds his marriage once held.

Jack wrestles with conflicting desires. He longs to keep the photograph close, to savor the image that once symbolized their dreams and aspirations. Its presence would serve as a evidence of the love they once shared. Yet, the impending finality of divorce tugs at his conscience, reminding him of the futility of holding onto a fading illusion.

His moment of introspection is abruptly interrupted by Javier stepping into the room, "We just need this room, and then we're done," Javier's voice cuts through the heavy air, each word dripping with finality. He strides past Jack with deliberate intent, their shoulders colliding in a jarring collision. It’s a calculated move, a manifestation of tensions and unspoken grievances. The impact reverberates through Jack's being, jolting him with a surge of mixed emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.

Javier's voice pierces through the silence, demanding Jack's compliance. "Oh, and sign this," he commands, holding out the document that seals their separation. Jack's heart sinks further, aching with the weight of his mistakes and the harsh reality of his actions. He realizes that his choices and his inability to fight for their love have led them to this precipice of destruction.

A whirlwind of emotions swirls within Jack as he struggles to maintain composure. He longs to retort, confront Javier, to defend himself against the accusations that echo in his mind. But the fear of breaking down, of exposing his raw vulnerability to his nemesis, forces him to swallow his words and bury his pain beneath a façade of indifference.

Suppressing his emotions, Jack forces out a strained response. "I'll go get a pen," he mutters, his voice betraying the cracks in his armor. Of course, he notices a pen casually protruding from Javier's pocket, but doesn’t acknowledge it. Jack's intentions are twofold - to avoid indebtedness to Javier and to steal a fleeting moment of solitude, where he can gather his shattered pieces and shield his vulnerability from prying eyes.

"No need," Javier replies, retrieving a black fountain pen from his crimson shirt. "Here."

Jack accepts the pen wordlessly, turning away from Javier. A wave of emotions washes over him as he approaches the smooth surface of your cherished vanity. Its polished veneer reflects the dim light in the room, casting a soft glow that dances upon the surface like distant stars in the night sky.

As he places the envelope down, he can't help but notice how out of place it looks amidst the serenity of the vanity. The contrast between the cold, impersonal paper and the warmth of the polished wood is sharp. It's a physical manifestation of the turmoil raging within Jack's heart, a stark reminder of the shattered dreams and promises that now lie in ruins.

His attention is momentarily diverted, his ears pricking up at the sound of hangers clanging against each other in the closet. Javier's intrusion into this intimate space feels like an invasion, a violation of the sanctity that once existed between you and Jack. The echoes of the hangers serve as a painful reminder of how swiftly everything has unraveled, leaving him feeling helpless and adrift in a sea of emotions.

The entrance of more voices into the room disrupts Jack's already tumultuous thoughts, shattering the fragile stillness that once enveloped the space. Amidst the chaos, a distinct sound catches his attention—an unmistakable rustling of a bag. He turns, his gaze drawn to one of your uncles holding a storage bag. Its contents hold a precious piece of your shared history, the short, simple white dress you wore on your wedding day. The bag appears relatively small, but it carries an immense weight that lodges itself as a hard lump in Jack's throat.

A rush of memories floods his mind, triggered by your words uttered just the night before: "You couldn't even give me the wedding of my dreams." The sting of truth reverberates through his being, for he knows deep down that you were right. You had shared your dream for a celebration surrounded by all your loved ones, but he had selfishly protested. It was never a matter of financial constraints, as both of you were financially stable, but rather his fear of overshadowing the memory of his first marriage. The image of your tear-streaked face flashes before his eyes, when he said he “didn’t want to make a big deal about the wedding," a haunting reminder of the pain he inflicted upon you with his own demons.

His heart aches as he realizes that you had ultimately surrendered, selflessly agreeing to a courthouse wedding to avoid further conflict. There were no grand gestures, no best man to stand beside him, and only your parents as witnesses. The weight of his own choices and the consequences of his actions press heavily upon him, like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. Regret engulfs him, his remorse magnified by the sight of your dress being packed away, a symbol of the dreams he shattered and the happiness he denied you. 

Jack sees your uncle place the storage bag in the 'QUE ARDA' box he noticed earlier, and he knows he will never see that dress again. Unable to bear the weight of these memories any longer, Jack lowers his gaze, seeking solace in the downward cast of his eyes. The room buzzes with activity as more of your possessions are packed away, each item serving as a painful reminder of the life he once shared with you. The anguish wells up within him, threatening to consume his fragile composure. He longs to shield himself from the mounting pain, to retreat into a fortress of emotional detachment, even as his heart aches with the knowledge of the devastation he has caused.

Jack knows he must face the inevitable. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he doesn’t have another choice. He didn’t love you as he should have. He wasn’t a husband to you in the truest sense. Reluctantly, he opens the envelope, gingerly withdrawing the papers contained within. The bold letters of "Decree of No Fault Divorce" sting his eyes, and tears threaten to spill onto the pages. A part of him wants to let them flow freely onto the papers, to show you just how deeply this affects him too.

His gaze traces the contents of the documents, fixating on your initials, your signatures, and the relinquishment of parental rights. He shouldn't be so close to letting out a sob at the sight of everything laid out. The pain is overwhelming, almost suffocating. He had said that he didn't want to be a father to your child, screaming those hurtful words at you. This is what he wanted, isn't it?

Thoughts whirl in his mind as he contemplates sending the papers to a lawyer, as your lawyer had suggested. But he doesn't want to prolong your agony. He senses your urgency to sever ties with him. He doesn't want to contest the division of assets, knowing that what rightfully belongs to you should remain with you. He reads a statement noting that while you're not asking for child support, he understands if the court mandates it.

With a heavy heart and trembling hand, Jack signs his name on the designated line next to your signature. By the time he surrenders his parental rights and agrees to everything else, his hands have gone numb.

Lost in his thoughts and emotions, Jack is unaware of the activity in the room until he notices your lawyer approaching him. Raul's presence jolts him back to reality.

"Very well. I will expedite these papers," Raul states, extending his hand to collect the envelope.

Jack hesitates, his grip tightening on the document, reluctant to surrender it. In fact, a surge of defiance pulses through him, urging him to tear it into countless pieces, to feed it to the pigs, and restore all your belongings to their rightful places within the sanctuary of your home. But he knows he must suppress these rebellious impulses. Reluctantly, his fingers loosen, and he extends the envelope, a mixture of sorrow and resentment coursing through his veins. The burden of the decision he made hangs heavy upon him, a haunting reminder of the choices that have led to this painful moment.

Unexpectedly, Raul reaches into the depths of his dark gray suit pocket, retrieving a small black box. Jack's heart clenches in recognition, knowing all too well the contents that lie within. 

"Here is my client's wedding band and diamond ring. She wanted to return them to you." Raul informs him.

The box becomes a symbol of shattered dreams and promises, a vessel holding the remnants of the love that once bound them together. It serves as a perfect reminder of the life they had envisioned, now irrevocably altered.

The gravity of the situation bears down upon Jack's weary shoulders as he gazes at the box, his mind flooded with a whirlwind of emotions. It is a bitter pill to swallow, suddenly acknowledging the pain he has caused and the irreversible damage inflicted upon the once-vibrant tapestry of their relationship. Regret seeps into every pore, intertwining with the threads of sorrow that bind him, leaving an indelible mark upon his soul.

Jack's fingertips tingle with a mix of trepidation and resignation, for in surrendering the envelope, he recognizes the finality of their life together.

With a heavy sigh, Jack reluctantly releases his grip on the envelope, its transfer an act of surrender and acceptance. The bittersweet taste of resignation lingers on his tongue, a poignant reminder of the love that once burned brightly but now smolders in the ashes of what could have been. The echoes of his unspoken regrets reverberate through his being as the envelope changes hands, sealing their fate.

Javier's voice pierces the silence, "Ya está todo" ("It's all done"). Without a single word directed at Jack, everyone exits the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Your family and the movers pick up the boxes and load them into a truck that will carry them away, transporting them to a place where you can begin anew, free from him.

The sound of the door closing echoes through the nearly empty room, and Jack retrieves his phone, launching the translation app. He enters the phrase "QUE ARDA," and his stomach churns as he reads the translation of what you intend to do with your wedding items and the pictures you once cherished: "LET IT BURN"

Overwhelmed by emotions, Jack collapses onto the bed in the nearly bare room, tears streaming down his face. The weight of his actions and the consequences of his words crash down upon him, suffocating him in remorse and regret. He yearns for a way to turn back time, to rectify the pain he inflicted upon you throughout the years. How did she keep up with everything I put her through? He asks himself.  But he knows it's too late. All he can do now is bear the burden of his mistakes and hope that someday, somehow, you can find it in your heart to forgive him.

In the depths of his being, Jack understands that the time for desperate gestures and sentimental hopes has passed. It is a painful admission, an acceptance that their love has slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. And as he looks at his underwear drawer, the image etched into his memory, he carries the burden of his own fault, knowing that he didn't want his wounds to fully heal, which, in turn, caused your own wounds.

Extended note: (Repeating from my previous Dave post from yesterday, because I believe there isn't much overlap between Jack and Dave fans. So I'm sharing this here as well.) As I mentioned in my initial post, I have been writing fanfiction for a long time. However, I recently decided to start sharing some of my work. English is my third language, and while I have experience writing and publishing grants, research papers, proposals, and so on, it’s nothing compared to fanfiction and erotica. Also, I have always had a team to revise my work, so this is definitely outside of my comfort zone. With this being said, I apologize for any and all mistakes because if I read this over, I’ll overthink and not post.

I don't know when the next part will be up because I like to create dividers and the image displayed at the top of the post. I'm not quite sure what to call it—Collage-like manner gifs? Banner? Oh, and I'm horrible at graphic design, so it took me an embarrassing amount of time to create the ones included here.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎

Please feel free to comment and reblog! (If you would like to, of course :)