#all his respect for dark would completely collapse

[dnangelic]

official vs fan translation.

s/o to the fan translation for making daisuke say hell. on the other hand i really love the official eng's 'dark is an art thief! a brilliant art thief!' because this is like the most daisuke's ever gotten upset over someone disparaging dark's image

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

I really loved the angsty fic I was supposed to protect you do you think you could do it but with the datables? If that’s too many characters then just Diavolo and Simeon and Luke.

(I know asking for Luke is 👿 because he’s just a child but I wanna sob and having him see MC die I think will do it)

Heyy I'm glad you liked the first part and sure. Part 2 is coming right up! I gotcha! Enjoy!

Author's note: This is part 2 of the story I was supposed to protect you which includes the demon brothers. You can find part 1 here.

Summary: During a fight MC(you) sees that the dateables + Luke won't be able to dodge the next attack so you take it instead of them, causing your death.

Contains: Angst

GN!MC x Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon, Luke

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

I was supposed to protect you

Part 2

Diavolo

Diavolo, the future King of the Devildom, was a force to be reckoned with. His power was overwhelming, and his presence commanded respect. But even he, with all his strength and authority, was struggling. The battle had taken a toll on him, and for the first time, you saw doubt flicker across his face.

The enemy launched a devastating attack aimed directly at him, and for a moment, Diavolo didn’t have enough time to counter it. His eyes widened, realizing the danger too late.

Without a second thought, you threw yourself in front of the blast.

“MC!” Diavolo’s voice was filled with shock and horror, something you’d never heard from him before. He rushed to your side as you collapsed, his powerful hands catching you just before you hit the ground.

“Why would you...?” His voice trembled as he cradled you in his arms, his usual regal composure completely shattered. He was the Prince of the Devildom, yet he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t stop you from slipping away.

You tried to smile, to show him you didn’t regret it, but it hurt too much to form words. Diavolo’s expression crumpled, tears gathering in his eyes as he held you tighter, as if he could somehow keep you with him.

“MC, please... I need you,” he whispered, his voice desperate and broken. But it was too late. You had saved him, and that was enough.

Barbatos

Barbatos was always composed, always several steps ahead of everyone else. His calm demeanor never wavered, even in the most dangerous situations. But this time, the enemy had caught him off guard. A powerful strike was coming his way, and for once, Barbatos didn’t see it coming in time.

You saw it before he did, though, and in an instant, you made your choice.

You stepped between Barbatos and the attack, taking the full brunt of the blow.

“MC...” Barbatos’s voice was softer than you had ever heard it, full of disbelief as you collapsed into his arms.

He knelt beside you, his normally composed face etched with something you had never seen before—genuine fear. “Why?” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “You didn’t need to do that.”

You tried to respond, but your body was growing heavier, the pain too overwhelming. Barbatos tightened his grip on you, his eyes dark with regret. For once, he hadn’t been able to predict what was going to happen. He hadn’t been able to save you.

“I... I should have protected you,” he murmured, his voice breaking in a way that was foreign to him. The timekeeper who was always in control, always calm, had lost something he couldn’t get back.

Solomon

Solomon, the ever-cunning sorcerer, was locked in a fierce battle with the enemy, casting spell after spell with a determined look on his face. But even the most powerful human had limits, and Solomon was nearing his.

The enemy’s next strike was aimed directly at Solomon, and for a moment, you saw the panic flash in his eyes. He couldn’t deflect it in time.

Without hesitation, you threw yourself between him and the attack, absorbing the impact yourself.

“MC!” Solomon’s voice rang out, full of horror and disbelief. His usual calm, teasing demeanor disappeared in an instant as he rushed to your side.

He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he tried to stabilize you, casting healing spells in vain. “Why... why did you do that?” he asked, his voice trembling.

You could see the panic in his eyes as he realized that no amount of magic could save you. His hands moved frantically, trying to cast every spell he knew, but it wasn’t enough. You were slipping away, and there was nothing he could do.

“MC... I’m supposed to protect you,” Solomon whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I... I promised I’d look after you...”

But even the most powerful sorcerer couldn’t stop death. And as your vision faded, you felt his grip tighten on you, the weight of his regret hanging heavy between you both.

Simeon

Simeon was an angel of light, a beacon of hope even in the darkest of times. But today, even he was struggling. The enemy’s attacks were relentless, and despite Simeon’s divine strength, he was starting to falter.

The enemy launched a strike aimed directly at him, one that could be fatal if it hit. Simeon’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t fast enough to block it.

You moved before you could think, throwing yourself in front of him just as the blow landed.

“MC!” Simeon’s voice was filled with shock, his usual gentle tone now laced with panic. He caught you as you fell, his strong arms cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Why...?” Simeon whispered, his voice trembling as he held you close. His eyes, usually so full of light and warmth, were now clouded with grief. “You didn’t have to... I would have been fine...”

You tried to smile, but the pain was too much. Simeon’s grip on you tightened, his wings trembling slightly as he leaned over you, his tears falling silently onto your skin.

“MC, I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he held you closer. “Not like this...”

But there was nothing he could do. As the darkness closed in, you could feel Simeon’s sorrow, the way his heart ached as he realized he couldn’t save you.

Luke

Luke, despite his young age, was full of determination and bravery, always trying to prove himself. But in this moment, facing a dangerous enemy, you could see the fear in his eyes. He wasn’t ready for this, and the enemy’s next attack was aimed directly at him.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t let Luke, so full of light and innocence, take that hit. Without hesitation, you stepped in front of him, taking the blow meant for him.

“MC!” Luke’s voice was high-pitched with panic as you collapsed in front of him. He rushed to your side, his small hands trembling as he tried to shake you awake. “No, no, no! You can’t... you can’t leave me!”

His voice was frantic, full of fear as tears welled up in his eyes. He had always looked up to you, always relied on you, and now you were slipping away before his eyes.

“Why would you do that?” Luke cried, his tears falling freely. “You’re supposed to be okay! You’re supposed to be with me!”

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was alright, but the pain was too much. Your vision was fading, and the last thing you heard was Luke’s heartbroken sobs as he begged for you to stay.

[violetasteracademic]

An In Depth Look at the Gwyn/Lightsinger Theory

As always, we are bringing a text based analysis straight from the books!

Full disclosure, I have mixed feelings about the Gwyn Lightsinger theory. It definitely could be the case, but I also have an alternate theory about her powers that I'll share at the end. The reason I don't love it 100% is because it is founded in a bit of a messy way. My understanding is g/wynriels started this theory because: Lightsinger and Shadowsinger! Light and dark! Cute, meant to be. Then us Elriels replied by saying babes, lightsingers are evil AF and that's not a good thing. Thus Evil Gwyn was born which I do not subscribe to.

Lightsinger *is* totally an option, but there is some context both for and against and I'll share my take on both sides! That being said, not a whole lot is actually said about lightsingers and the manner in which their power functions.

Here is the only passage describing lightsingers in the book (and this is their description on wiki):

Key words that stand out to me re: Gwyn- ethereal, friendly faces.

Now let's read the chapter where Gwyn's singing lures Nesta into a spell-like trance where she then begins to scry completely against her will or knowledge:

Key words: The bells ringing at 7 pm. A faint glow radiating from Gwyn.

Key takeaways: Gwyn's song beckoning and calling only to Nesta, lulling her into a place down into her own bones which are somehow then used to scry. Scrying with your own bones is *not* generally possible!

Key takeaways: Doors and pathways trying to be opened by Nesta's own body and the stones of the mountain becoming scrying tools while listening to the 7 pm service.

Key takeaways: Nesta literally collapses and everyone is looking at her concerned. She was the ONLY one who has been affected by the priestesses service in this way.

Now let's take a look at Azrie'ls bonus chapter:

Azriel and his shadows can hear a song, and his shadows replied to it. One of the most critically important elements to this occurring that I feel very few people discuss is the importance of Cauldron made items being the only ones having this reaction to Gwyn. Nesta herself is Cauldron made, and Gwyn's song literally controlled her entire person (I'm not saying intentionally! That is just what happened.) Azriel bears truth-teller, a Cauldron made weapon. There is a lot of indication that his shadows are also closely linked with truth-teller, they are all commonly described as a part of him. Only Made beings or beings with Made objects on their person can hear Gwyn's song, and it absolutely lures Cauldron made power. Is this lightsinger power? Maybe. We simply don't have enough context to the nature of lightsingers or Gwyn to say for sure, but it is compelling.

Now Azriel, bearing a Made object, finds himself present as the bell chimes 7 pm for the evening service. Exactly as Nesta had.

I do think an important mention is also this:

Does Azriel sing because he's a shadowsinger? No, it's just a being/species/whathaveyou. As lightsinger is just a being. The fact that they do sing is irrelevant to singer in their alleged respective titles.

So key items *for* Gwyn being a lightsinger: She is described as an ethereal beauty, containing a secret beneath her lovely face by Nesta. She has some sort of spell like power in her song. Is it luring specifically? Or is it something that calls to and controls Made objects?

My personal opinion is that the latter is more explicit in the text. There is no conversation around lightsingers having any specific impact on Made objects and Made objects alone. Why are only these two experiencing Gwyn's impact on their powers? If she could have had a luring effect on Cassian as well, in his POV book, I would have loved to see it.

I also think Gwyn being part river nymph might prove more relevant. Lightsingers are creatures of the Bog of Oorid, and they lure their prey into the bog. River nymphs are different water creatures entirely. So when would a fae or river nymph have gone to the Bog of Oorid to mate, when lightisngers eat both human and fae alike? I think it's possible we may see she is a Siren or some other yet to be discovered being.

I also think her proximity to the Cauldron in Sangravah, which we now know was corrupted and leaks dark power, is *extremely* interesting. I'm here looking for the connection for why only Nesta and Azriel experience this with Gwyn, and I think the Cauldron will prove relevant!

Whether Gwyn is a lightsinger, whether she is something else, I can't wait to find out! Please know I love Gwyn. My being an Elriel does not detract from how beautiful I thought her story was. Her being evil would honestly devastate me. However, I don't quite understand why g/wynriels are against the notion of Gwyn's secret powers and it being reflected again in the bonus chapter. It only serves to actually make her relevant to the plot, which is otherwise very lacking for our cute ginger Valkyrie!

What do you guys think? Are you still team Gwyn lightsinger after reading or are you seeing other options?

I'm leaving my usual Elriel tags on here to avoid getting unprompted boomer yelling style all caps DM's again from angry g/wynriels, even though I always try to be respectful to her and all ship opinions while also passionately sharing my own, but feel free to share!

[wolfiesmoon]

Binding the book

duke!gojo x fem!reader

This is in a manhwa au?? I don't want to call it a royalty au since neither of you are royalty but its essentially your average manhwa plot

I've decided to write something completely unrelated to the canon plot of jjk since I'm still in the process of watching the anime lmaooo

i feel overwhelmed by this anime tbh someone save me , i might just skip to the second season since i've already seen the first one back when it first came out but lowkey forgor everything😵

He's talking to her with that smile on his face again. You really shouldn't be bothered by this anyway, so why do you keep staring? You know how this story ends for you anyways.

You quickly turned around, not wanting to invade upon Satoru's buisness any further. You weren't outright bothering him, but you have a feeling he wouldn't enjoy you staring at him from behind the corner like some stalker. Not when he has better things to be looking at.

You've been married to Gojo Satoru for exactly 3 months now. It was a marriage born of neccessity, pure interest to stop marriage pressure from your families. Atleast on his side, it was. He made that clear during the marriage proposal.

"Well, I'm mostly just doing this so mom stops nagging me about finding a wife already. I'm sure the same applies to you."

Those words have been replaying in your head for a while now. You've known Satoru only for about a year at that point, and even then it was mostly through social events you attended that he also happened to be attending.

So needless to say, it was simulaneously a complete surprise and completely expected when he suddenly gave your family a surprise visit to offer his hand in marriage.

You knew there was zero romantic feelings involved from the very beginning, so you know you shouldn't be surprised if Satoru wants to leave you for Lady Ichikawa, the girl he talks to almost every day. But your heart can't help but clench at the sight, and you wish Satoru could...

Nevermind.

You should be attending to your duties anyways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sighed, practically collapsing on your bed. Finance is not fun, to say the least. Being the Lady of the house is a suprisingly tiring job, and definitely gives you more respect for your mother.

The servants had already helped you change into your night gown, and you were perfectly ready to hit the hay right now.

As the servant put out the lights in the chandelier, you thought about Satoru again. The guy is an annoyingly persistent thought in the back of your head, that's for sure.

You haven't even talked in a week.

Sure, the two of you tend to get busy, but this essentially just proves to you what kind of marriage this is. If he did care about you, he would've checked up on you atleast once, wouldn't he..? You don't have a right to complain about it anyways, since you were the one who agreed to the marriage in the end. You should be grateful you even had a say in it.

As the servant closed the door behind you, you clutched the pillow in your hand. Maybe if you keep being useful, he won't discard you. You've only been thinking of yourself up until now. You just now realise that if he leaves you for Lady Ichikawa, you'll lose your family face.

This is shaping up to be a nightmare.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. "Oiiii, can I come iiiin?"

Well, speak of the devil. You would recognise that voice anywhere. "Sure, come in." you said so, but did you want to face him right now? You felt conflicted, both really happy and really nervous.

As the door opened, you turned your head, his silhouette, illuminated by the lights in the doorway coming into view. "Man, it's dark in here. You're going to sleep so early?" he said casually as he turned on the oil lamp on your table.

You only nodded in response, looking at him with half wonder half suspicion. Why is he paying you a visit all of a sudden? "What..? Can't a husband visit his wife?" Satoru furrowed his brows, noticing your dimmly lit expression and sitting down on the edge of your bed.

"I'm happy you're here." You assured him. And you truly were.

"Right, of course you are." Satoru smirked boldly at you, but somehow, you could tell that he was relieved to hear it. He looked in front of him.

"I got you this." he said a little more quietly, handing you a book as you sat up in bed. But it wasn't just any book. "No way... how did you even get your hands on this?!" you blinked multiple times in the dim light, making sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

When you realised how loud you just were, you quickly covered your mouth, and Satoru laughed at you for a bit before saying "I have my ways."

"That... doesn't answer the question. How much did this even cost?"

"...You shouldn't worry so much."

That idiot... You took another look at the book in your lap, the rare book you were trying to get your hands on for 3 years at this point. You can't help but wonder if the emergency finance work you had to do today has something to do with this.

"...Why?" you looked back up at him.

"Why what?" he flashed his usual smile at you, his white lashes fluttering as he gazed at you. This all seems... odd.

"Why did you get this for me? Why would you spend so much money on me? How did you even know I wanted this? What are you trying to do... here..." your last question died off as you saw his expression slowly shift to one of concern.

"You're... my wife? And I happen to know you want this? What kind of questions even are those, seriously." he scoffed, shaking his head.

"But... Lady Ichikawa..." why would he spend money on you when he could be putting it towards his future with Lady Ichikawa? Wait, why did you even start assuming that he'll leave you any minute to begin with? Gosh...

"Oh, her? Wait... are you jealous?" he raised his eyebrows playfully, leaning back. "Not really, I just thought that you... like her more than me." it felt strange finally admitting this to him.

"Ehhh.... She's just a friend, ya know. And I actually mean it. Why would I like her more?" Satoru looked as unaffected as ever, smiling at you. But beneath that nonchalant attitude and those shining blue eyes of his, you could feel confusion, doubt, and something else.

"You said in your proposal t-that... So I thought Lady Ichikawa..." all the turmoil that had been building up inside you for the last three months finally let loose, with you trying your best to speak through your tears. Isn't this pathetic?

"Shhh, I know what I said back then. But now that I actually have you, I dunno anymore. I wanna try out this whole love thing." Satoru moved up on the bed, moving over to your side and gently petting your head.

"In other words, you can stop crying now. Because I'm not letting you go anytime soon."

i dont like this one all that much I'll be real, but then again when do I ever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this is actually based on a very specific manga plot, if you get it right I'll give you a gold star ⭐

[freakyformula]

Pretty like the sun part 4 (last part)

Summary: Reader is a huge Lewis fan and is attending her first race in her life with her brother. She catches Lewis eye and he instantly falls for her.

Writers comment: Ugh sorry for making it so long I'm incapable of making short fics lmao

Warnings: Reader is referred to as she/her, reader has a brother, age gap but readers age is not specified.

Word count: 4,4k

Y/N= Your Name and Y/N/B= Your Name's Brother

Sunday

Y/N POV

Race day. Damn it. She was not ready for this, or what was going to happen after. While the race was one thing, the promised date was a completely different thing. She was unsure about how she would survive. Lewis made her feel more at ease and she knew he wouldn't force her to do anything against her will, but she was still concerned. Standing in the bathroom, she looked into the mirror, feeling as though her head would explode from overthinking. This kind of thinking was definitely not healthy for her. She didn't go on dates; in fact, she had never gone on a formal date. She had never experienced any of this before. Was it appropriate for her to admit her inexperience to Lewis, or had he already figured out that important detail on his own?

She took a few deep breaths and grounded herself, clinging desperately to the counter.

"Think positive…" She whispered to herself.

She slowly collapsed down on the bathroom floor, sitting with her back against the counter. She concealed her face in her arms and sniffled. She had fantasies about this before she came here, and this is all she really wanted. She had no idea Lewis would take such an interest in her, despite the fact that he had only made her happy and treated her with respect.

She finally got her thoughts into control and looked up with a determined look on her face.

"Don't be a coward," she thinks.

After a much needed shower and the obligatory morning routine, her makeup was next in line. She did a natural look, with a light base, some brow gel, and mascara. She finished her look off with curling her hair, keeping it down.

Usually her outfit is based on what she likes and what she feels comfortable in, but today, she has Lewis in mind as the outfit comes together, choosing between a black strappy backless dress, thinking it'd be fitting as it was already warm. Her second option was an off-white day dress with black dots. The latter is more fitting as it's more flowy and accentuates her curves perfectly. "Lewis will love this", She thinks. Paired with black heels and golden accessories, she feels ready for the day.

Her brother asks for fashion advice, him too wanting to look his best. They pair together a pair of dark beige trousers and a greige (grey/beige) linen button-up shirt. Together they stroll down to the morning meal buffet, they were late this day, being the last visitors to show up.

"Who are you betting on today?" He starts.

"I'm hoping for a Lewis win, but with him starting at P11, I think it's unlikely. My bet is on Lando or Max. Even an Oscar win is possible, the Mclarens are on fire. You?

"My bet is on any of the Red Bulls. A Daniel win would be sweet but that's just wishful thinking. Seeing Max win would be sweet, we haven't heard the Dutch anthem for a while." He giggles and continues eating his breakfast. The siblings had a habit of betting on who would win, they thought it added further excitement to the already thrilling sport.

"Nervous about the date later? I'd be shitting myself."

"Are you kidding me, just thinking about it makes my pulse pick up the pace." She replies.

"You'll be fine, both you and Lewis are cool. Besides, it seems like you've become good friends." Her brother says, giving her a playful wink.

"Shut up." She mutters and smiles down at her plate.

As they get into the paddock for the last and most significant day, they notice how people are looking their way, and paparazzi follow them snapping pictures of the duo. They look at each other, confused. As they get to the Mercedes garage they're greeted by HR. The lady introduces herself as Anne.

"Y/N, have you seen the news? Pictures of you and Lewis have leaked, you two looked quite personal at a club last night." Anne says sternly. "I've already notified Lewis and done some damage control, but I need you to know that things like this are strictly forbidden from now on."

She gasps and feels like eyes watering. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, Anne, I simply didn't know!" Her people-pleasing self starts. "It will never happen again."

"No worries, Y/N. I'm just letting you know." Anne concludes and turns her heel.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" She whispers to herself as her brother tries to cheer her up.

"Fuck the media. They have no business inserting themselves in your and Lewis's business." He mutters.

She sits down on the nearest chair she can find and buries her face in her hands, holding back her tears. This feels like the end, she will never recover from this. Her brother rubs her back to soothe her. All of a sudden, she hears a familiar voice.

"Y/N?" Lewis looks at her with a slightly troubled smile.

"Lewis! I'm so sorry." She runs up to him and looks him straight in the eyes.

He laughs and raises his eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

"I thought Anne told you about the news?"

"Oh… that, it's pretty much sorted already, nothing to worry about, Y/N. Also… you look beautiful today." He says as he pulls her into a hug. As they part, he quickly leans down and places a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

She instantly blushes, turning into the timid version that Lewis met only a couple of days ago.

"Excited for today?" Lewis asks her.

"I am, are you?"

"I'm looking forward to tonight." He admits and touches her hand, taking her hand into his. "Also, I have someone who would like to meet you." And as Lewis says that a panting Roscoe comes running up to them.

"Oh my god aren't you the sweetest boy! Hi Roscoe, I'm Y/N." You tell the dog.

As you look up, you see a man, looking like an older version of Lewis. "Y/N, meet Anthony, my dad. Dad, meet Y/N. We're good friends, right?" Lewis asks her.

She nods and gives the older man a handshake, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Anthony."

"Likewise, Y/N." Anthony smiles at her with the same smile as Lewis. Lewis has clearly inherited his dad's eyes. Their eyes have that certain spark.

"Okay, time for Lewis to get ready. Hi, Y/N!" Angela says and separates the two, leaving the siblings alone to do whatever they want. They walked around in the paddock, checking out the cars and took hundreds of photos of themselves, the buildings, the cars, the people. The vibes couldn't be described even if she tried to. She was in her favourite place, and she could stay here forever.

"You know, I could get used to this." She admits to her brother.

"So could I, I love it here. Please, let's come here next year too." Her brother says.

"I was thinking more like the next race…" She frowns.

They laugh as they continue their promenade through the paddock. The wait for the race to start felt long, and they decided to go back to the Mercedes garage. Her brother wanted to follow the engineers and mechanics doing the final changes to the car.

You follow their precise work for a while but soon grow bored. She decides to go looking for someone to disturb. She walks around, finding her way to the offices, meeting rooms and driver rooms. She knocks on Lewis's door and waits for an answer. She hears a bark and a shush. It only takes a couple of seconds until Lewis swings open the door, lighting up when he sees her.

"Y/N, I was gonna come searching for you when I was done eating. I'm having my last meal before the race." He gently drags her in and sits her down on the sofa. "So, did you have something on your mind or did you just want to meet me?" He smirks at her.

"I was walking around, looking for someone to mess with and I happened to walk past your door…" She replies.

"Someone to mess with, and I'm your victim?" He tuts at her and continues, "What are you going to do to me, Y/N?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I was thinking about snatching you away." She admits her plans to him.

Lewis looks at her for a while, his face looking alarmingly blank. After what felt like minutes, he gets up and walks over to her. He bends down and lifts her up, holding her steady against him. "I'd follow you without even thinking. You're driving me crazy, Y/N."

He lets her go and backs off, needing a minute to calm down. He sits down and finishes his meal.

This feeling is new, she's never felt this way towards anyone before. As he held her, she felt herself getting turned on and felt the wetness between her legs. She needs to excuse herself to collect herself. "I'll go down and wait for you." She says before she puts her hand on her door handle.

Lewis POV

"I'll be right down." He says and continues focusing on his breathing to fight off his growing erection. Fuck, this was certainly not ideal, but the breathing seemed to work as he felt himself calming down. This was ridiculous, he felt like 14 years old again, getting hard whenever a girl even looked his way. Roscoe was staring at his owner, probably wondering what was going on.

"Don't look at me like that." He orders his dog.

He knew he was expected down at the garage when he heard a knock on his door.

"Hi, I'm Y/N" he heard as she ran into Carmen, meeting and talking to her for the first time. He's called to a short meeting with George, Toto and the engineers for a final briefing. The strategists were hoping for a 2 stop race. She's still talking to Carmen as they conclude the meeting and get ready to jump into the cars. He walks over to the younger girls and she looks at him with anticipation in her eyes.

"Good luck hug?" She says as she skips into his arms.

Carmen giggles and walks over to George, giving him the same treatment.

Lewis is almost certain that the whole Mercedes crew has caught on already. Even if they're still friends, they sure as hell don't act that way. He hugs her a little tighter, pulls away and takes her hand, giving it a peck. And with that, he walks to his car, pulls his balaclava and helmet on and gets in.

Y/N POV

She finds her brother and pulls him to their seats that Toto gave them on Friday. They put their headphones on and start following the F1 pre-race show on one of the screens. The nerves are through the roof, and yet, she's not the one in the car, risking her life. The rumble from the cars is heard through the headphones. It subsides as the cars are released and line up for the formation lap. Anthony is seated close-by and gives her a reassuring look, knowing his son is able to pull off miracles.

"Lewis and George are close to each other, maybe they can cooperate their way to the front?" She comments to her brother.

Bam, formation lap. She's sweaty all over. As the cars get to the start she feels herself getting dizzy. Green flag. She hears and sees the red lights go off.

"And the British Grand Prix is underway!!" The commentator, Ben Edwards, yells.

Lewis has a decent start, passing Alonso in the first corner. He manages to keep him behind, even easing away from the cars behind him, creeping closer to Hulkenberg and Tsunoda. At Copse, he makes a clean pass on the outside and manages to pass them both, ending up at 8th place, with George behind him.

"Both of the Mercedes are having an excellent race so far!" She hears the commentators discuss the possibility of Mercedes fighting their way to the podium.

Lewis is doing such a good job, keeping a good pace, and catching up to the Ferraris. On the Hamilton straight, he manages to push past Leclerc and immediately regrets his decision. He's sandwiched between the two scarlet cars. Luckily, Sainz is called in for a pitstop.

She looks at the timestamps, he is 7 seconds behind Norris, the leader.

"Ooooh, Lewis Hamilton locks up at the Luffield corner!" The commentator yells as the others in the commentary box scream in despair.

Leclerc makes the pass and Lewis goes back to P7.

"Damn…" She mutters.

"Fuck, well, it's early, he still has time to recover." Her brother swears.

One after one, the drivers are called for a pitstop. Lewis's first pit stop was quick, thankfully. He ends up after Verstappen, who is yet to pit. Both siblings watch the race chewing their nails with nervosity. "Hamilton runs wide, and clears Leclerc out of the way!" Ben announces.

Roscoe gives your leg a lick, making you aware of his presence. You give him a good head rub. "Roscoe, get back here!" She hears Anthony call the bulldog back. As he looks her way, he gives her a kind smile and thumbs up. She responds with the same gesture.

"Unbelievable! Hamilton passes both Magnussen and Ricciardo! Fantastic stuff by Hamilton!" The commentators chant.

At lap 38 out of 52, the pressure to advance was high. Both Mercedes drivers had caught up to the leading cars, Norris in the lead, Piastri second, Verstappen third, Sainz fourth, Perez fifth and Stroll in sixth place.

As Stroll and Perez are called into the pits Lewis makes it to P4 with Russell in close pursuit.

"The Mercedes drivers are on a streak! Lewis has gained 7 positions, starting at P11 and now racing with the lead!" She jumps up and down in her chair when she hears and sees how the race is unfolding. Lewis, Verstappen and Piastri are called into the pits. Verstappen has a slow pit stop and ends up behind Sainz when he rejoins. Lewis on the other hand, has a smooth pit stop, having changed into medium tyres.

She can hear Bono encourage Lewis over the team radio.

"P3, Lewis! P3! Keep it up." Bono tells his driver.

He's now stuck behind the two McLarens, and George pushing him from behind.

With some teamwork, Lewis and George get past Piastri, meaning they've worked themselves to the podium.

She can hear the crowd outside. She wanted to scream as high as them, this was surreal, her favourite driver on the podium on her first-ever race weekend.

"It's looking like a three Brit podium at the British Grand Prix this year!!" David Coulthard comments in the speakers. That makes the crowd go ballistic. She's sure the drivers can hear them as they pass by.

Lap 50 of 52. Time is running out and Lewis is right behind Norris, he's just waiting for a good opportunity to pass. The pressure is on, Lewis last had a win a long time ago, with Verstappen being as dominant as he is and Lewis having a bad car. He makes a last leap and tries to make a pass at Stowe but fails. One lap left. He tries again at the Wellington straight and takes the inside line at Brooklands. And as if by a supernatural phenomenon, he gets past.

"Hamilton! Hamilton passes the McLaren! How did he do that?!" Ben screams.

"This is Formula One! This is what it's all about! Motivation, initiative, diligence!" Coulthard comments. "Lewis Hamilton wins the British Grand Prix, taking his 104th victory in his career!" he continues.

Unfortunately, George didn't have enough to make a pass on Norris and finished third. But he seemed happy anyway, warmly congratulation Lewis on the radio.

The whole Mercedes garage is heard all the way to the grandstands, she's speculating. The crew, Anthony, Toto, and the siblings watch as Lewis passes the chequered flag. People are embracing each other, applauding, and hollering. She was certain she saw one of the mechanics crying too.

Anthony, Lewis's dad, runs out of the garage with the siblings not far behind to get a brief look at the winner. When he make it to the pits he runs straight to his dad for a tight hug. Lewis was emotional, really emotional. He'd struggled with the car for a year now and finally it reoccurred. He finished his post-race interview and made it to her, giving her the tightest hug she'd at any point gotten.

"This victory is for you, Y/N. I did it for you."

He rushes to the podium and the cooling room. They walk near Anthony and Roscoe, finding the more seasoned visitors presence calming, hesitant to stroll in the way or disturb the broadcast.

"What a race, huh?" She strikes up a conversation with Anthony.

"We rarely see such a Grand Prix, this is your first time, right? You chose one hell of a weekend, Y/N!"

She is conversing with Toto and the rest of the team while they wait for the three drivers to appear on the podium. His happy tears can be seen all the way down to the ground where she is standing as he appears. He looks like a god, standing on the highest step on the podium. The British national anthem starts playing and the team and her sing along. That moment would be forever stuck in her memories. They watch Lewis and George raise their trophies and they hear as the crowd roar and chant.

When the champagne celebration is done she and her brother and the team walk back to the garage to wait for the winner. She retreats to Lewis's drivers room to wait for the winner with Roscoe. They both lie down on the sofa for a nap. She quickly stands up and looks him in the eye as soon as she hears the door open. The most joyful man she's ever seen shows up. His eyes are red from all the tears, and his smile is the widest she has ever encountered. They just stare at each other for a while before Lewis opens his arms for her to jump in. She does, and he picks her into his arms.

"Well done, champ." She starts. "You did so well, and I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad I came here." And without thinking about her actions she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

He turns to face her and smiles inconceivably wider. He lets her down and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"God, I really want to kiss you right now."

"So do it." She says. Where her confidence came from, she doesn't know but him kissing her right there only felt right.

They're so close she feels his breath tickle her face.

"Not here. I want this moment to be truly special." He says. "Will you promise me a kiss later?"

"Consider it a deal." She says without hesitation.

"I really need a shower." He says, touching his sweaty, champagne drenched braids.

They agree to go back to their hotels to freshen up. Lewis drives her back to her hotel and tells her to be ready in an hour.

"Where are we going? What should I wear?" She asks.

"Wear something cute, nothing too fancy." Lewis simply responds and helps her out and into the lobby.

As she unlocks the door, her brother is already there, looking at her with a clever look.

"Let me guess, freshening up for the date?" He asks and she answers by nodding.

"By the way, do you need condoms by any chance? I think I have some in my suitcase." He asks.

"What the actual fuck Y/N/B?! You sick bastard!" She concludes. The cold water against her skin felt so good. Today had been so warm and the sun was extreme. Luckily, the sun seemed to subside in due time for their date. She quickly did a shave and moisturized herself. Now, what was she going to wear? What counts as "not too fancy"? She found a pair of white jean shorts and a thick grey knitted cardigan. He literally said not fancy, and she will be a good girl and oblige.

She did her hair up in a messy bun and applied some light makeup, she couldn't be arsed to put much effort into her looks, he had already seen her good side earlier.

She went down to wait for him, but to her surprise, he was already waiting in the lounge.

He was dressed in a pair of jeans with a simple sweatshirt, looking rather ordinary contrary to his usual outfits.

"You're so beautiful, Angel." His use of the pet name makes her heart do a flip, surely not for the first time tonight.

"So do you, Lewis." She says loud enough for only him to hear. He leads her out and they start the ride to the destination.

"Tell me, Lewis, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. But trust me, it's not far." He answers.

She got more confused as the road got thinner and more isolated, and then it turned to gravel. All of a sudden, they came to a stop. He opened the trunk of his car and took out a picnic basket, filled with food and an array of drinks.

"Come here, follow me." He says and takes her hand and the basket in the other hand.

She sees Lewis studying her, "Please Y/N, don't be scared." He reassures her with a hand squeeze. He's so attentive. The frown on her face must have lead him to believe she was scared. She admittedly was, but she wasn't afraid of him, but more of the unfamiliar circumstances.

They walk through a meadow and come to a halt at a little lake. "Is that…" She starts. He'd made a small spot for them to sit on under two willows. The spot was lit up with small light bulb strings hanging above the pillows and blankets we'd set out on the grass. "I'm speechless, Lewis, this is too much."

"Nonsense, I want to give you the world." Lewis counters.

They sit down and take a moment to take in the view and enjoy each other's company.

"Here, take what you like." He says and reaches the basket over. She opens a cherry cola and takes a few sips, enjoying the freshness of the drink.

Lewis had brought a small portable speaker in order for them to play music. "I've made a playlist for this occasion." He admits and puts it on. It was a true mix of different songs, and she had to admit, Lewis had immaculate taste in music.

They eat the contents of the basket, and start to hum along to the music.

She catches Lewis looking at her with blown eyes. "Goddamn, not only are you incredibly beautiful, you have the voice of an angel too." He says. She looks away and he gently grabs her chin, turning her head back. "Dance with me?" He practically begs.

He helps her up and they start dancing, cheek to cheek. She looks up at him and he looks down at her. The tension is palpable, and her heart is pumping at an incredible rate.

Lewis POV

This was it, he was about to kiss the girl of his dreams.

One Love by Bob Marley comes on and he takes that as a sign.

"Y/N, may I kiss you?" He asks, hoping she hasn't changed her mind.

"Y-yes you may." She replies and that's all he needs to hear.

He carefully grabs her cheek and leans in, she slightly flinches away, but Lewis finds her lips anyway.

Their first kiss is unlike he'd ever experienced before, it's like fireworks are going off around them. She's the one that pulls off, looking at him with those stunning eyes of hers.

Before he even has time to react, she initiates another kiss which quickly deepens. It's so heated that he feels himself getting excited just like earlier. He has to pull off and take a break, even if parting from her satin lips feels like agony.

He sits down and drags her down with him. He places her with her back to his front, her sitting between his legs. He keeps kissing the top of her head, their height difference evident.

"I feel… Awakened. Thank you for this." She says softly.

"I really like you Y/N, I'm sorry for asking so soon but will you do this with me again?"

She turns around and looks him directly in the eyes.

"Of course, Lewis, of course I will!" She almost jumps up and turns around to properly see him.

The kiss that follows is heated and Lewis lets himself fall backwards, ready for more. That proves to be too much for her and she pulls off. Instantly, she goes back to the timid, innocent girl she used to be.

"I can't." She blurts out, looking scared of how Lewis will react.

Thankfully, she had nothing to worry about.

"I will never do anything to you that you haven't consented to, Y/N." He reassures her. "I'm perfectly happy with only kissing you, I'm happy you were brave enough to tell me you were uncomfortable." He says as he kisses her on her nose.

She looks completely dumbfounded, not quite understanding that she can say no without the other person taking offense.

He starts placing kisses all over her face to lighten the mood. As a response, she starts laughing hysterically and struggles to get away from the treatment.

They spend the rest of the night just talking and making out in between.

"So, when is the next date…?" She languidly asks her lover.

Tagged: @lh44girl

[dragonnan]

Secret

May Prompts 2024

Full disclosure this is a completed story on AO3. However this fit the prompt perfectly and this is not a story that has seen much attention so double bonus! Haha!

May 12: "Secret"

It had all started in Dartmoor.

It had nearly been 2am by the time they'd finished up at the field and had staggered back to the hotel. Sherlock had left hours earlier so John had offered to remain behind with Greg while they had filled in the local constabulary; a greying man a year out from retirement along with his replacement-in-training. Well out of his jurisdiction, and glad of it, Greg had suggested a stop at the hotel bar before heading off to bed. John had been more than happy to erase the evening in alcohol and they'd ended up having several drinks before finally splitting off towards their respective rooms. The room he shared with Sherlock was dark when John wrestled his key into the lock and swung the door. Opting to spare his vision, he switched on only the bedside lamp – filling a corner of the room with a warm yellow glow. The bed was empty, of course. The bar had been empty of everyone save himself and Greg so it was anyone's guess as to where Sherlock had wandered off. No doubt burning off the events of the night in his own way, John didn't dwell on the other man's fluctuating mood – moving instead towards the loo... only to find the door locked.

“Sherlock?” A double rap of knuckles met only silence. “Sherlock, you alright? Open the door.”

“John?” The soft warble of his voice was enough to pump a shot of adrenaline through John's chest – alarm pushing him to rap the door a bit more firmly. “Sherlock, let me in.”

“John? What's wrong?” The voice came from behind him, this time; Greg rubbing at his forehead and looking about as knackered as John felt and far worse than he should be feeling after just two pints. Granted, it had been preceded by drugged mist, explosions, and giant dogs.

“It's Sherlock. Not sure what's going on,” he filled in softly. Greg, for his part, moved to rubbing his eyes.

“Well, aye, he's probably just paggered.”

An odd scramble followed Greg's comment. And then there was the sound of breaking glass.

“Shit,” setting his feet, John didn't hesitate in throwing his shoulder against the door – forcing it open onto another shadowed room. More scrambling followed – like something hard scraping against wood – and then Sherlock gave a short yelp and the shower curtain collapsed just as Greg blasted the room with the overhead light. John winced at the retina blinding afterimage – groaning as he pressed his palms against his eyes.

“Christ, ta for that...”

Eyes slow to adjust with the near blinding, it took John a moment to focus on the figure wrapped up in plastic. The curtain, with its pattern of small frogs in sailor hats, jutted up in a way suggesting something sharp was tenting it. Now fully in the tub, Sherlock had curled into himself as much as the limited space would allow.

“Please, don't... I'm fine.”

“Bollocks, you're fine,” John muttered; reaching for the curtain and pulling it aside...

Greg actually stumbled back – knocking something over that John couldn't be arsed to care about because his focus was completely on the figure huddled before him.

It was Sherlock... or... what looked like Sherlock. But...

“Good Christ, are those antlers?”

John shook his head, hard, with eyes squeezed tight. That fucking mist. No doubt still in their systems and an evening of drinking couldn't have helped matters. “Dammit, we're still hallucinating.”

An unexpectedly wild giggle burst from Lestrade. “Oh, ya think, do ya? Naw, I was thinking Sherlock literally turned into a bloody antelope!”

“Faun.” Both of them, now, looked back to Sherlock who still had antlers and, from the waist downward, a heavy layer of reddish brown fur, a scattering of dainty white spots, and...

“Hooves. He's got hooves.” John made that statement with the observation of someone of whom fate had delivered into madness. Of course he had hooves. He was half a deer, apparently.

Groaning, Greg staggered back towards the main room to drop into a chair. “Is it normal for a drug to last this long? I mean, I've done a fair bit of reading on the effects of stuff like cocaine and marijuana and even methamphetamines but this just seems...”

“Potent...” John offered – still transfixed by the absolute realness of the fantastical nature of Sherlock's form; as well as the fact that, aside from the rapidly fading buzz of alcohol, he didn't feel the least bit high. That said, the drug they'd been exposed to was completely unknown and it occurred to him that all three of them should have headed straight for the nearest hospital to be placed under observation.

“John, you are not hallucinating.” Sherlock had finally managed to tear the curtain free from his – well his... yeah. He remained crouched in the tub, however; his hooves... feet... slipping on the smooth porcelain.

It was then that John noticed the streak of blood on the rim of the tub.

“Damn, you're bleeding.” Pushing away all thoughts of deer people, John stepped forward to grasp Sherlock's upper arm – preparatory to helping him from the tub. This close he could feel the tremble running through Sherlock's body. He felt nearly hot to the touch and John cursed again at the realization Sherlock had been alone and sick while he'd been off making an evening of it. “Come on. Let's get you lying down so I can take a look at that injury.”

He refused to acknowledge the sensation of soft fur brushing against him as he helped Sherlock to stand. Between them, they managed to get Sherlock to the other room – Greg moving forward to help when the two of them emerged from the bathroom. Soon Sherlock was stretched out on the bed and John was examining the three inch gash across his right forearm.

“I cut it on the mirror when it broke.” His voice had resumed shaking – his whole body consumed with tremors.

“Yeah, well, its gonna need stitches. My kit is in the back of the car. Greg, do you mind?”

Grunting his reply, eyes still a bit dazed, Greg went to collect the bag while John gave the rest of Sherlock's body a scan for other injuries. Of course, this also forced him to confront the... less than human aspects.

“It's not real.” And maybe if he said that enough it would be true.

“I assure you it is. And had I the ability I would have changed back in order to avoid all of this. You weren't... humans are not meant to know of us...”

Cold bathed down from the crown of John's head to pour into his belly. “No. Nope. This is the side effect of a very powerful drug! Nothing more!”

“Do I look like a hallucination, John!” Sherlock roared – pushing himself to stand just as Greg returned from the car.

“Hell’s bloody bells...” Greg breathed.

Both men stood frozen as sobriety finally asserted that what they were seeing was actually, terrifyingly, real. And then Sherlock jerked, spun towards the nearest bin, and vomited.

An hour later, Sherlock sat, huddled and miserable, beneath the comforter while John and Greg finished up cleaning the bathroom of broken glass, scattered toiletries, and the torn remnants of Sherlock's clothes. Compartmentalizing had gotten them both this far but now, with no other activities to distract them, they were forced to confront the reality in the other room.

John could admit that he felt... well, terrified... Not of Sherlock, specifically but more... as though he had had the floor drop away – revealing a black and endless depth. It was apt that he felt he couldn't find his footing. Sherlock, for his part, had been very quiet during this time. Now, though, he sighed.

“Mycroft tried to warn me this would happen – eventually.”

John swallowed. Of course, Mycroft. He was one of these... these beings... as well. How many were there, then? Seeing the question on his face, Sherlock answered.

“There are more of us than you would think. As you can understand, however, it has been crucial to our safety that we remain hidden. If it weren't for what happened, yesterday, you would never have known about me.”

Trying, very hard, to get past the gut twisting wrongness, John moved to the chair directly opposite of the bed. Greg, for his part, still stood near the door. “You mean the mist?”

Sherlock shook his head; his antlers catching the soft light. “It's a reaction to coming face to face with a predator to our kind.”

John frowned. “Do you mean... the dog? I don't understand. I've seen you interacting with dogs, even patting then, dozens of times. Why would this...?”

“It wasn't a dog,” Sherlock swallowed, “It was a werewolf.”

Desperately putting the fur, antlers, and bloody hooves out of his mind, John scrambled for normalcy in the best way he knew how. By arguing.

“No... no I saw it. It was a dog. You said it was a dog.”

“Yes – I said it was a dog. But what did you see before I said that?”

He wasn't quite ready to accept that his flatmate was hooved much less that fairy tale monsters roamed the moors. But then the other part, of what Sherlock said, registered in his mind.

“Hold up – what do you mean by 'before you said that'?”

And here, Sherlock looked down, fingers pulling at the duvet. “I... our kind... we have the ability to alter perception. Not much – less so the younger we are – but enough to make you see a dog instead of a werewolf simply by speaking an absolute imbued with Power. It helps that you already expected to see a dog.” Here he looked up through his lashes. “Did you truly believe any drug would give everyone the exact same hallucination?”

John, though, still wasn't ready for all of... that. “That dog had an owner. Two owners – they admitted to creating this entire legend. Are you saying they had a werewolf and didn't know about it?”

“They knew exactly what they had. They thrive on trickery and no doubt were ecstatic over the chaos they caused.”

“So how did two, uh, humans end up in possession with that... that... that creature?”

Sherlock's eyes squinted shut. “They weren't human. They were satyrs. Similar to faun in appearance but far more powerful. They, too, can speak words of Power but unlike faun they can cloak their true nature from all creatures – including my kind. I didn't realize what they were until a short time ago.”

Hunched over his knees, John braced his hands on his thighs and breathed.

Finally giving in to the madness, Greg walked to the other chair where he dropped down with all the exhaustion of a man who hadn't slept for two days. Both hands scrubbed over his eyes. “So, what, you just speak one of these power words and we go back to seeing you as a human?”

Sherlock's lips pulled back, briefly, and John caught a glimpse of sharp canines. “No. At least not for a long duration given my form would merely be hidden from sight. The actual nature of my true body would still leave traces behind. As it is, faun are required to alter their shape in a manner which allows for full integration with humanity. It is, rather, a more physical process. And a painful one.”

At John's tipped head, Sherlock wrapped his arms about himself. “I can transform my shape. Well, once the adrenaline surge wanes enough to allow for it. It is not pleasant, however.”

“Does this happen a lot? Whenever you encounter a... well... a, ah, werewolf?”

Sherlock leaned back against the headboard – antlers tapping the wall. “Fortunately they are quite rare, nowadays. This is the first werewolf I've ever encountered. The last known sighting was more than sixty years ago.” Then, stretching, Sherlock swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Now, if you don't mind, I need some privacy.”

It wasn't until he was back out in the hallway that John realized he'd just been kicked out of his own room.

Greg offered a pitying look. “I've a roll away in the closet if you want.”

John was about to accept when both of them startled at the sudden groan from the other side of the door. This was followed by what John could only imagine as the spongy snap of wet bone – immediately followed by a muffled scream.

“Jesus-” Without thought on the matter he immediately threw open the door and rushed back inside... to find Sherlock nude, soaked, and fully human, collapsed in a heap next to the bed.

Read the rest of the story on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @sgam76 @helloliriels @sevdrag

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch. 14

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 14 - Black Flash

Without further ado, Sukuna swung open the door at the bottom of the staircase. The sight that greeted you beyond was a chilling echo of the past.

Sukuna had manifested his innate domain in the space under the apartment. A grotesque landscape that was all too familiar. The pile of skulls, the damp, murky floors, and the jagged rock formations—it was the same domain he had taken you to on that first fateful night.

It was here that he had unleashed a horde of curses upon you, pushing you to the brink of collapse in a brutal test of your abilities.

As you stood at the threshold of Sukuna's domain, you were surprised to find that the usual chills of fear were absent. Perhaps the constant exposure to danger over these past weeks had hardened you, forging you into a more resilient person.

Or maybe there was a part of you that recognized the potential for growth in this twisted arrangement. Sukuna, in his own way, was offering you the chance to become stronger, to hone your abilities through his 'training.'

The notion of power as the ultimate currency in this world was not lost on you; it was a harsh truth that had been imprinted upon you from a young age.

Your parents' tireless efforts, their kindness and ambition, had been swallowed whole by a world that favored those in power.

And Ayumi... the thought of her stung sharply, a wound that refused to heal. Her lack of strength had cost her everything, and your lack of strength had left you unable to protect her.

That is why you had decided to become so incredibly strong that you'd never feel helpless again. Besides, it was the only thing that could be gained from the vow that was forced upon you—and you were determined to exploit the circumstances to their fullest.

With a steadfast stride, you passed through the threshold, following Sukuna into the gloomy domain.

Your feet splashed against the muddy ground, and you thought about how you had much preferred the openness of the abandoned factory over the dark, oppressive atmosphere of this place. Bringing it up would be completely futile though, knowing that the King of Curses couldn't care less about your preferences.

Instead of assuming his usual position of 'towering dominance' atop the pile of skulls, Sukuna stood before you, only a few feet separating the two of you. He stared you down, his expression morphing into a scoff.

"You know," Sukuna began, his voice a low, menacing purr, "I sought you out because I'd heard whispers that Satoru Gojo himself had taken an interest in you. That arrogant fool claimed you possessed 'great potential.'" He spat out the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth.

"But what did I find upon dragging you here? A weak, pathetic insect, not even worth the effort of squashing beneath my heel."

He took a deliberate step closer, his cursed energy pulsing around him like waves. "And yet..." Sukuna's voice dropped to a near-whisper, "that insufferable sorcerer isn't one to waste his time. So what could he possibly see in you?"

It was as if being in Sukuna's domain enhanced the weight of his presence somehow—it felt more suffocating than ever before.

You could barely focus on what he was saying, but Sukuna continued his monologue nonetheless. "It didn't take me long to notice it—that spark of potential he thought he could cultivate."

He took one more step towards you, closing the already small gap between you. The weight of his cursed energy now intensified exponentially, crushing down on you as your breaths became ragged, each inhalation a struggle against the pressure.

"It's laughable, really. You possess this power, yet you're too pathetic, too ignorant to even grasp the nature of your own cursed technique. What a waste."

It was as if a curtain fell away when he turned around and walked away again, finally giving you room to breathe.

Only now could you truly process his words. What did he mean by 'your cursed technique'? The very notion puzzled you.

You were still grappling with the basics, still trying to find your footing in the world of jujutsu, where a cursed technique seemed to be a must in order to become a powerful sorcerer. And all this time without a proper cursed technique had left you wondering if maybe you'd never develop one at all.

But now Sukuna was telling you that you already possessed a cursed technique? There was no way...

Though thinking back, this wasn't the first time someone had implied that there was something latent within you, a power you were oblivious to.

Gojo's remarks during your training with the bear-shaped cursed puppet suddenly resurfaced.

"That's amazing," Gojo had said, a rare note of surprise in his voice. "That thing you're doing with your cursed energy – it's quite impressive. Though a bit scary, too..."

His words echoed through your head. God, this was frustrating. Why couldn't you see?

It pained you to admit it, but right now you needed Sukuna—you needed him to tell you about your cursed technique. So you swallowed your pride and turned to him.

"Tell me," you called out, your voice firm despite the churning emotions within. "What is my cursed technique?"

Sukuna's laughter erupted suddenly, a harsh, grating sound that echoed throughout his domain. It was as if your question was the funniest thing he had heard in ages. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he looked down on you. "You think I'd just tell you outright? Stupid little sorcerer...You'll have to earn it."

Of course, nothing came easy with Sukuna. He thrived on torment and challenge—what had you expected?

Sukuna spoke up, the laughter now subsided and his voice more serious. "I'll give you a clue, under one condition," he said, as he started circling around you.

"You must land a Black Flash on me."

Black Flash. You were certain you had heard that term before, but to be fair, you couldn't remember at all what it meant. Your confusion was apparent, and Sukuna's expression twisted into one of disgusted amusement. "You don't even know what that is, do you?" he sneered. "Pathetic."

The gap between you and him seemed wider than ever, a chasm not just of power but of understanding. Doubt gnawed at you—did you have any right to call yourself a jujutsu sorcerer?

Sukuna sighed, obviously annoyed that he had to bother with an explanation. "A Black Flash is a moment of pure synchronicity between your cursed energy and a strike. It's the mark of a true sorcerer's power and control." He stopped his circling, as he sought your gaze and locked eyes.

"If you can manage that," he continued, his voice low and menacing, "I might consider telling you more. But don't get your hopes up. Weaklings like you rarely achieve such feats."

You squared your shoulders, meeting Sukuna's gaze with newfound resolve. "Fine," you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions. "I'll do it."

Sukuna spread his arms as if welcoming you to attack him. "Excellent," he purred. "Then let's see if you're capable of anything more than being a disappointment."

Steeling yourself, you channeled your cursed energy, feeling it pulse through your veins. You launched yourself at Sukuna, aiming a punch at his face. But he sidestepped effortlessly, his mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

"You call that an attack? Put some real force behind it, woman."

Gritting your teeth, you whirled around and swung again, this time with more power. Sukuna barely moved, parrying your strike with a flick of his wrist. The impact sent a shockwave up your arm, but you pushed through the pain and kept attacking.

"Too slow," he taunted, his voice without any trace of effort, as he kept evading your hits. "Your moves are obvious. Make it less predictable."

You tried to take his advice, mixing up your strikes, but each one missed its mark. Sukuna danced around you, his movements a blur, his contempt palpable. Desperation gnawed at you as you felt your energy depleting.

"You're not focusing your cursed energy properly," he snapped, catching your wrist mid-punch and twisting it painfully. "Feel the flow—let it enhance your strikes, not hinder them."

With a grunt of pain, you wrenched free and tried to focus, feeling the cursed energy coursing through you. You aimed a kick at his midsection, infusing it with everything you had. Sukuna caught your leg effortlessly, throwing you to the ground.

"Disgraceful," he spat, looming over you. "Do you even understand what you're trying to achieve? Synchronize your cursed energy with your physical movements. It's not just power—it's precision."

Scrambling to your feet, you tried to absorb his words, feeling the frustration boil over. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, focusing inward, seeking that elusive synchronicity he spoke of.

When you opened them, you felt a faint but noticeable shift in your energy.

You charged at him again. This time, Sukuna's expression shifted ever so slightly, from mocking amusement to mild interest. You swung, and though he still dodged, it was by a narrower margin.

"Better," he acknowledged with a condescending smirk. "But still far from enough."

Breathing hard, you didn't relent. You pressed the attack, each strike coming closer to its mark. Sukuna's movements remained fluid, but you could sense his attention sharpening.

"You've got some fire in you, brat," he jeered. "But do you have the guts to finish it?"

Now he was just asking for it.

With a roar, you focused all your energy into a final punch, feeling a sudden, intense alignment of your cursed energy and physical strength. As your fist hurtled toward him, the air around it seemed to distort. For a split second, time seemed to freeze.

You felt an unbelievable sense of confidence. Everything came into focus—the flow of your own cursed energy, his. It was as if, for the first time, you could truly see it.

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly, and he moved to block, but your punch connected, a burst of energy rippling through the air. The force made the ground tremble, and you both stood still for a moment, the echo of the impact lingering.

Sukuna's expression shifted to one of mild approval, though his eyes still glinted with his usual menace. "Well, well, look at that—a proper Black Flash. Perhaps there's a sliver of worth in you after all, though it's hardly anything to brag about," he drawled.

God, you hated his guts, but right now, you didn't care about that. You felt a rush of exhilaration, high on the fleeting sense of power you had just experienced. It was intoxicating, and without a second thought, you charged at Sukuna again, driven by a surge of impulsive confidence.

But Sukuna was quick to remind you of your place. With a swift, effortless flick of his wrist, he sent you crashing to the ground with brutal force, leaving you gasping and reeling as pain flared through your body.

You struggled to push yourself up, casting a weary glance at Sukuna, who stood imposingly above you.

"Know your place and don't get too full of yourself, brat, or you'll find out exactly how powerless you are against me."

The impact of the blow shattered the exhilaration from your earlier success, bringing you back to reality. As you lay there, pain still radiating through your body, your mind fixated on one thing: understanding more about your cursed technique.

"You promised me information about my cursed technique," you said, forcing the words out despite the ache in your chest. "I need to know more."

Sukuna's eyes narrowed as his lips twisted into a mocking smile. "Oh? Still hungry for answers, are we?" he drawled. With a languid motion, he walked over to the pile of skulls and seated himself at the base with a relaxed posture.

"Fine then," he continued, surprisingly compliant for once. "Did you notice the flow of cursed energy during that Black Flash? Can you sense your own energy and that of others more clearly now?"

You nodded, feeling the residual effects of your earlier effort. "Yes, it's like I can see it clearly now."

A smug grin spread across Sukuna's face. "Good girl. Here's your clue: From now on, pay close attention to the flow—yours and others'—especially at the moment of impact."

He moved his gaze from the floor below him to meet your eyes, and somehow you found you couldn't look away from his crimson stare.

"That is where the key to understanding your technique lies."

---------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! I appreciate the support 🙏❤️

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn

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[spinchip]

Idk if you’re still taking prompts but maybe some nice emperor au stuff? Freaking love the au.as for the actual prompt uhhh…. Zanes first year vs his last year in the never realm maybe? Or ooooh some angsty post-staff collapse when he lost the staff and started falling apart

“The Emperor is a good man,” Sorla says, voice heavy with respect, “If your friend has come through his halls, he will have surely fed and housed him. And if he has not visited the Emperor then I'm certain he would do his best to help you find him.”

They’re sat around a large, crackling fire in Sorlas home, nursing tea and a modest dinner she’d prepared herself as they’d all warmed up in her living room. Akita and Kataru had delivered the letter they’d been sent with once Sorla had finished her own plate, and she was reading over the official document with wise eyes even as she spoke. The envelope had been sealed with dark blue wax, the emblem a simple snow flake, and the siblings that had found the ninja had been taking their duty to deliver it extremely seriously.

“What’s it say?” Kataru asks, trying not to peer over he shoulder to read along. Akita peers over her shoulder to read along.

“My presence is requested at the palace. He needs to put his affairs in order for an upcoming visit.” Sorla hums.

“Oh, who’s coming? The dignitaries from the Western Archipelago? The Emperor and I were discussing the trade offer they had sent us not too long ago, perhaps they've decided to come negotiate in person.” Kataru ruminates, “Or maybe it’ll be Lord Haoran.”

“Ugh, I hope it’s not King Desperate.” Akita throws herself back in her chair, “He needs to get the hint- Emp’s not interested! Move on!” she makes a shooing motion with her hand.

“He didn’t specify.” Sorla hums, “So I suppose I will be accompanying you all on your journey to the palace.”

The Ninja all exchange a glance before Lloyd starts slowly, “Listen, about that… it’s not that we don’t trust you, of course, and thank you for taking us in and for dinner but… it just seems…”

“Too good to be true.” Nya finishes with a wince.

Sorla laughs kindly, “Ah, I understand that. When he first appeared in our lands many years ago, i believed the same thing. A ronin with no lord to promise his honor... I was skeptical of his motives, but I assure you the Emperor has proven himself a thousand times over. He is a good man, and a steady one.”

Akita leans over the table into Lloyd face, “Want to hear how we met?”

Closing his eyes, Kataru grimaces at the memory, “Our clan had been displaced in territorial skirmishes with Vex around this period, chased off our land and living in temporary settlements. We were originally based in a village further north, but we chose to retreat past Mala-Wojira for the safety it offered-”

“We were Attacked!” Akita launches into the juicy part of the story, cutting her brother off mid sentence. “Vex sent the Krag out to destroy us! The were 20 feet tall, ready to wipe us out or force us to comply-”

“They were not- they get taller every time you tell the story!” Kataru claps a hand over his sisters mouth, “Krag are typically 9 to twelve feet tall, twenty is ridiculous- and it wasn’t just Krag, but also some of Vex’s loyalists who set fire to our tents and attempted to destroy our rations- EW don’t lick my hand!”

Akita takes advantage of Katarus disgust to pick up the story, “It was looking bleak until… the Emperor swept in! With a sweep of his cape he extinguished the fire completely! before chasing off Vex’s cronies with just a single, sharp look!”

They blink at Akita, the story sounding… less than plausible.

“We were just young kids at the time, and we thought we could help. We ended up getting caught in a really bad spot.”

“...Between a rock and a massive burning wall of fire,” Akita agrees, losing some of her bravado at the memory.

“The Emperor walked through fire to get to us. He saved our lives.” Katarus' voice goes light with awe and reverence, “He is amazing, okay? He’ll help you.”

The ninja exchanged another glance, “You’ve convinced me.” Cole says for the whole of them, cracking a smile, “Maybe he really can help…”

“You wont regret it!”

“We’ll set off on the journey back tomorrow morning, once it has stopped snowing. For now, we should rest.” Sorla offers them each a blanket and pillow, and the ninja settle down quietly. Akita and Kataru apparently have a personal room here they typically use, but the rest of the guests are regulated to the admittedly soft carpet.

“Do you really think he’ll be a good guy?”

“With our track record? Probably not.” Jay comments dryly.

“We’ll just have to keep our guard up… remember, this is for Zane.” Lloyd laces his fingers worriedly over his chest.

Cole nods along with the others, “For Zane.” They all agree softly, before the night falls silent.

[untitled5071]

I have a Lisa Frankenstein request! If you'd rather not, thats totally okay, but I'd love a modern au of them going to a my chemical romance concert. ^^ it's for me and for one of my friends too, and it would really mean a lot to us! Thank you so much for doing what you do!

I hope you like it!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh my god oh my god, I think this is it!” 

Even though Lisa’s eyes were trained on the stage in front of her, her arms were busy shaking the daylights out of her husband, her hands on his shoulders while he chuckled adoringly at her enthusiasm. He wasn’t doing too good of a job at hiding his own, either; this concert may have been a gift for Lisa while they ‘traveled’ through Mexico as part of their “don’t get caught by the police” world tour, but he was excited too. 

They hadn’t been to a concert in a long time; after Lisa was reanimated and recovered, the two of them had gotten as far away from Brookside as they could potentially get, and once the dust settled, they decided to do a little traveling to see what the modern world could offer them. They had no end of potential date ideas, but they both particularly liked live music. 

Though their favorite of all time would always be the private one given in the living room of Lisa’s old home, they both enjoyed being among other music lovers and shouting lyrics like maniacs. Granted, he knew he wouldn’t be doing much shouting tonight in the sea of people they found themselves in-both because he knew he wouldn’t be heard and because shouting just wasn’t in the cards tonight, but it was all worth it for the sake of seeing Lisa so happy. 

Speaking of Lisa, her declaration that the show was starting seemed to be right on the money, since the lights were starting to dim, the anticipatory roar of the crowd was starting to get louder and cell phone flashlights were starting to flick on like illuminated eyes across the arena. The creature divided his attention between Lisa and the stage as the sound of a heart monitor was projected over the screams of the fans, and she grabbed his stitched-on hand in a vice grip when a gurney containing a covered body was rolled onstage. 

Lisa’s cheers joined that of the rest of the crowd when the body revealed itself to be the lead singer, clad in a hospital gown over his signature dark outfit and clutching a microphone. The first song was ironically called “The End”, and as the creature expected, Lisa sang every word at the top of her lungs, teased hair flying in every direction as she bounced along to the beat.

He knew buying her that second hand iPod Nano last year was a good idea. 

The first verse ended with Gerard Way ripping off his hospital gown as the biggest curtain they had ever seen opened to reveal the rest of the band, already whaling away on their respective instruments. They all wore black outfits and parade marshal’s jackets (which seemed fitting), and they weren’t the only ones who had dressed the part. 

Lisa had spent hours trying to pick the perfect combination of tights and tops for this concert (all black, of course), and had finally settled on black fishnet tights that she had torn and woven back together herself with more colorful embroidery thread (sticking heavily to purple and green to match her husband’s stitched limbs), a black tulle miniskirt and a black sports bra under a mesh top, complete with black and dark-gray striped arm warmers, to match the fashion of the time. He himself was wearing a leather jacket over a deep red shirt, and his best ripped jeans that Lisa distressed for him, in more ways than one. They blended in perfectly with the ocean of punks around them, and that was just fine by them. 

The band cycled through their set with infectious energy and an electric stage presence, and the creature was surprised that the stadium they were in didn’t collapse under the weight of the stomping and jumping the audience was doing. He was particularly fascinated by the mosh pit that had formed towards the font; it was mesmerizing to see all of those bodies moving in such a disjointed but synchronized way that anyone could immediately understand was dangerous if not done properly. He had to respect it, honestly. 

The biggest problem with it, on the other hand, was that it was blocking their view of the stage, and by the time the band’s most popular started (signaled by a single note that was almost drowned out by the crowd), the frenzied movements of the people closer to the stage got more intense, as did the noise level. 

Lisa was staining herself on her tiptoes to see over the screaming heads in front of them, and when her husband noticed this, he put a hand on her shoulder gently, shuffling in the limited space that they had so that his back was to her, and squatted down slightly. Lisa got the hint immediately and hopped onto his back, and he hoisted her up so she could see over the several hundred flip phones being used to record the show and get a better view of the stage. She was delighted by this plan, holding onto him with her thighs and one hand while waving her other hand in the air, mirroring Gerard on stage. And even though her voice was meshing with thousands of others, even that of the actual lead singer, the creature thought her voice was the clearest and most beautiful of them all. 

She must have been able to feel his adoring gaze somehow, because as the song ended in a shower of confetti and pyrotechnics, she bent down and kissed his right cheek first, then his left, whispering (or, given the noisy circumstance) said in a normal speaking voice, 

“Thank you. I love you so much.”

And though he was particularly tongue-tied that evening and unable to speak the words back, he hoped that the kiss he gave her amidst the crowd’s raucous applause spoke his feelings adequately. 

They stayed that way as the concert continued, the creature keeping Lisa safe in the arms collapsed around where she was perched on his back and Lisa sneaking little kisses or playing with his hair in between songs, and as the band played one of their slower pieces, the two undead souls swayed together, united in their love of music and each other. 

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken

These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours

They burn 'cause they are all afraid

When mine beats twice as hard

'Cause the world is ugly

But you're beautiful to me

[theodorecanaryhood]

Heart and soul

Two one shot shorts with Mr Jason Todd x GN Reader

Warning: first one is a little dark and sad

Relationships are hard if not impossible at times, but they’re worth the struggle.

Robin was the best thing for you, along with Jason Todd.

The two of you were so in love and so strong, happy and healthy. The relationship was amazing, Jason was your soulmate and your best friend.

Then the news came from Bruce’s mouth that Jason had been taken, the Joker had taken him. Your love.

Your chest hurt, the tears never stopped flowing. The pain was too much, but you stuck with it.

‘I’m so sorry, he’s gone’ was all Bruce said, the pain in his voice.

The pain you felt in your chest, the twisting of your heart. You were in so much pain. You collapsed then and there, feeling like your heart was breaking.

Bruce cried through the phone, a cry of pure sadness as he walked through the manor. He couldn’t hear anything, Bruce was numb.

There was time that had passed by so quickly that no one was able to confirm how much, Bruce was in his own world.

Red Hood was a menace and the new threat in Gotham City. He was angry and his anger was being taken out on everyone.

Bruce was happy to have his son back after he found out who the Red Hood was. But, he knew there would be a part of Jason that would’ve gone once he knew.

Jason balled into his hands as he stared at the gravestone, your name carved in like a bittersweet poem.

A story that never got to be completed, Jason cried hard as he saw that you had been taken too. Your life ended simply because you had died of a broken heart.

You didn’t want to live without Jason, and he had to live again without you.

The Bands of Light

Jason Todd x GN reader and Dick Grayson

It was a pleasant day as the sun was out with a mild heat, followed by a slight breeze.

Jason was estranged from his family since his resurrection, only bumping into his dad or one of his brothers on a patrol.

Jason wasn’t one for allowing his dad into his life full time, but he wouldn’t be completely neglectful toward a Wayne.

Dick arrived and sat outside the coffee shop as he scrolled through his phone, hearing a couple across from his seat. Laughing and talking.

Dick spotted the man as Jason, smiling toward him as he saw Jason wearing a silver wedding band on his left hand. And spitting yours too.

Dick smiled as he locked eyes with Jason, who threw a smile in return. The two didn’t speak to one another, but they acknowledged their relationship.

Jason took your hand in his from the other side of the table, Dick smiled as he watched his younger brother, happy and married. Settled and living his life.

Dick didn’t say anything to either of you but watched sweetly and proudly as Jason had a life of his own.

Seeing as Dick moved back to Bludhaven and Jason was a solo hero, Dick respected that Jason wouldn’t have the need to tell anyone.

Jason leant over and kissed you as the two of you stood up, leaving together while hand in hand.

Dick held his cup up toward Jason, giving a final proud smile. Jason shooting a wink, as he held your hand gently.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi! Can I request on RoR?

Gods (including Adamas, Apollo, Zerofuku, Lucifer, others (Hermes/Rudra/Others), if possible), Yandere & Romantic…

Human Reader or s/o (significant other), has fanclub and a cult dedicated to her and she didn't know or unaware of its existence and oblivious about it these club/cult that dedicated/worshiped her…

A Fanclub/Club that the members/people of this club admired/ respected/ appreciated/ dedicated to s/o and her personalities, actions, etc. The people/members of the club do what fans do, discuss about the s/o and her activities, do/talk fanarts and activities of/about s/o, getting pictures/ autographs with her, willing to do anything and protect/defend s/o. But not in the level of anything inappropriate things, like stalking, pervy stuff, killing. The members are kinda like Bartolemeo/ Hancock from One Piece…

A cult that is worshiped the reader like a god because they think of them as the reincarnation or identitical of an entity or divine being. The people of the cult always follow/stalk the s/o, try to do things to please them and even try to do inappropriate things with them, like forcing the reader to bed/wed with them…

What would be the RoR Gods react and/or to do to the club and cult?

Hello, my darling, I’m going to write this request in a way where any of you lovely people can put whoever you want as your love interest! I hope you enjoy it!

-The day you found out you had a fan club was certainly an interesting day, but not a bad one.

-You were a moon goddess, beautiful and bright, gentle and warm, and loved by so many, like those in your fan club.

-You had been out and about when you were approached by a group of people, both men and women, wearing shirts with your face on it, holding merchandise they had made, asking you for some photos and wanted to ask you some questions.

-You had no clue that you had a fan club, but when they told you, your eyes were so big and sparkly with glee they almost collapsed, clutching at their chests, you were so cute!

-Taking photos and signing your autograph was a bit unnerving at first, as you weren’t used to it, but seeing how happy you made others, just by shaking their hands, posing for photos, and giving at least the children members hugs, you just went with the flow.

-(Love) found out about the club and while annoyed at first, he relented, as they were harmless fans, having discussions and debates on how you took your coffee, or what type of beauty products you used.

-When he came home after a meeting, being dragged there by some of your fans, asking him questions about you, harmless questions, you couldn’t help but tease him, seeing him with a fan club hoodie which you quickly stole and claimed as your own.

-Your fans lost their minds when you took a selfie wearing their hoodie but they came unglued when you convinced (Love) to take you to the next meeting, in disguise, to surprise everyone.

-There was a lot of crying that day, but you had so much fun!!

-On the other hand, the day you found out there was a cult that worshipped you, the complete opposite of your fan club, obsessing over you, following you, and even going as far to threaten members of your fan club with severe bodily harm, was a dark, terrifying day for you.

-To them, you were perfection, the very personification of all their desires, they held the image of you in such high regard and wouldn’t hesitate to attack those who would dare say otherwise.

-Some approached you, greeting you warmly and thinking they were members of your fan club, you didn’t realize it.

-Your warmth, your kindness, hearing your sweet voice speaking directly to them, it was all so delicious, they wanted more and more. The members of the cult who had approached you were met with so much envy from the other members, hearing how they got to see you in person, even getting to touch you, they wanted it all for themselves.

-Some members of your fan club had noticed people following you and not wanting to scare you, went to (Love) instead, who was furious, while he didn’t mind you doting on your fans, you were still his and his alone and to hear that someone was stalking you, he nearly lost it.

-You didn’t go anywhere without (Love) for a while, after he told you about the stalkers, as he didn’t want you to get hurt, but there was one slip, where you went to the bathroom to wash your hands, you were spirited away.

-Unlike your fan club, you were terrified of the cultists, they had strands of your hair displayed like a trophy, a teacup with your lipstick on it on a pedestal, and thousands of photographs of you, taken from a distance.

-You were put on a large bed, your throne, so they could all see you in your glory, in the center of the room, and high-ranking members of the cult, the ones who started the cult, spoke to you as if you were an object, not a person.

-Shivers ran up your spine, not liking the way they were looking at you before the leader of the cult stood, “Y/N- our savior- our light! Bless me- bless us all, with your cries of passion, then bless us with a child of our love!”

-They only managed to rip your dress a bit, trying to force themselves onto you before (Love) busted in, having followed you via a tracker, a bracelet, you had on and he saw red, immediately going on the attack.

-Weapons were drawn and you were terrified for (Love) tears in your eyes as your emotions kept building and welling before your eyes shut tightly together and a wave of power rushed from you, knocking everyone but (Love) back from you.

-He quickly held you in his arms as the guards he called ran in, finding the den of depravity in your name, finding you safe and sound, sobbing into (Love’s) chest, holding him tightly.

-All cultists were arrested for kidnapping and stalking you and (Love) made sure everything about the cult was destroyed.

-Your fan club understood your aversion in coming back to them after something so traumatic, all of the members willing to give you space, which you and (Love) both appreciated, seeing the difference between the two groups, the light and the dark.

-(Love) kept you close, not willing to let you out of his sight as he felt guilty that you were taken right from under his nose, but over time you healed and returned to your bright and warm self.

-The day you returned to the fan club, surprising them, was a day of laughter and celebration.

-(Love) was so happy to see you smiling again, relaxing for the first time in a while, as he had people looking into things all over Valhalla, making sure that no other of these cults existed, he wasn’t going to risk your safety again.

[hopelessromantic5]

SydCarmy clip

Artist Carmy

Sydney is his long lost muse.

TBC at a later date 💀

Carmen is a chef, that much is apparent.

But before that, he was an artist.

The notebooks that he kept hidden from the prying eyes of his disastrous family had been his only solace through a…turbulent childhood.

He would sketch whatever caught his eye. A specific bird with a pretty song. A wildflower on the playground that was shining extra bright in the sun.

As he grew, so did his art. Wobbly formations transformed into confident lines and lifelike shading. What was once inanimate became alive.

He drew what he knew. Sugar, Mikey, booths at The Beef, and most importantly, food.

It seemed that food was center of his existence. His mother, his brother, and then eventually, he himself was sucked into the love of food.

Maybe it started because no matter how many awful things they’d said to each other, dinner in the Berzatto house was never missed. They all sat, sometimes (most times) uncomfortably quiet. But still, they were together. A mess, but a mess that belonged to each other.

Maybe it was the way flavors on his tongue seemed to revive Carmy from the dead on days he didn’t think he wanted to be alive; bright mornings after a dreadful night of his mother screaming at him that he was useless, that he could never do anything right. All while she sobbed and shattered her wine glass against the wall.

But something about a breakfast sandwich from the Beef, perfectly curated by his brother, made him forget his life for long enough that he could ride to school in peace, sketching the layers to the egg and glazed bacon, the different cheeses, the perfectly toasted bun.

There was one awful attempt to draw this girl, Claire.

Carmen noticed her when she began hanging out with Mikey, which was already kind of a red flag. But for some reason, the sketches kept ending up distorted and, quite frankly, disturbing to look at. Carmen wound up ripping the pages out and burning them.

Of course, his notebooks and shading pencils began to form dust after Carmy gave his life over to cooking. Becoming a chef was exhausting, and maintaining life as a chef, a Michelin star retaining chef, was soul destroying.

Maybe it was just Carmen’s luck. Maybe he attracted assholes and bullies, people that liked to spit insults down his neck as he stood there and took it. Vomiting it back up, hours later in the alley.

Eleven Madison Park was the worst and best experience of his life. He wouldn’t be as good as he was without it, but he also wouldn’t be as fucked up, as mentally torn apart.

He didn’t think it couldn’t get any worse.

That is, until he got the call.

He should’ve known. Things can always get worse.

Yet, the ultimate dichotomy of the best and worst time of Carmy’s life was yet to come.

As he stood in the back of his dead brother’s collapsing, grease infested, death trap, an angel came to him.

Appearing in the form of a beautiful woman. Skin dark and rich, glowing with a shine all its own. Big, curious brown eyes nervously taking him in, announcing herself.

“Hi, hello. I-I’m Sydney, I called about the sous position? I’m staging today? I think you said I could stage today-“

Carmen’s head was completely fucked. He forgot about the lovely voice on the other end of the phone, after a long day of sarcastic, apathetic dickwads.

“Right! Shit, sorry. Yes, yeah. Carmy.” He gestured to himself.

He took her resume, and was blown away. Not only was she beautiful, she was also capable. Stacked by the CIA and extremely respected restaurants of Chicago.

He thought for a second that he may have been dreaming. The gods had answered his silent prayer of a reprieve in the form of this human goddess who was trained the same way Carmen was trained; knows the ins and outs of a kitchen the way he does. A true partner, in that way.

Nearly a year went by. Arguments were had and healed, copious amounts of cash was found amongst tomato sauce cans, and The Bear finally got off the ground running…after a few minor snags.

Carmy had resigned that night, in the walk-in, to call Claire one more time and end the entire thing, on top of apologizing vehemently. Apologize for ruining yet another good thing, another good person and then let her go on about her perfectly healthy life.

Carmen was ashamed to admit to himself, that he barely even liked her. Nothing was natural, everything felt like a show he was putting on for someone else. Maybe for Mikey, maybe for himself, who knows.

One thing Carmen did know, for sure; it was not good for him. Or the restaurant. Or her. His partner.

She took the worst of it, and Carmen will never forgive himself for that. She did everything, kept his dream alive, while he fucked off and pretended to be something he wasn’t.

Somehow, gratefully and graciously, he’d earned his way back into Syndey’s trust over these last few months. Carmy put his full focus into The Bear, as it should’ve been from the beginning. And he never let her forget that he was there for her, that they were partners. Even when shit got too overwhelming, too much, they would always be there.

They stood by that.

Things were…better than they’d ever been.

The kitchen worked seamlessly, every once in a while there was a small mishap. But that’s what a good kitchen is; one that can run even when the unpredictable happens.

And for The Bear, regular unpredictable is a cake walk compared to their original amount of unpredictable.

He and Sydney moved through the kitchen like two halves of one mind. Wordlessly knowing what the other will need before they have the chance to ask, small gestures of reassurance when they need it. His hand on the small of her back in passing, I’m here, it says.

Her soft smile directed his way when he quietly corrected a new hire on their technique, instead of flying off the handle.

Carmen hadn’t raised his voice that way in a while. While he went to Al-Non and saw Dick (his therapist [that’s his actual name, don’t blame Carmen]), he could credit his better sleep schedule and improved outlook on life to one individual particularly.

The more he saw Sydney, the more she came into his space, the longer she stayed, the more Carmen calmed. For the first time in his life, he was still, tranquil, happy.

It, whatever it was, that special drug, that magic, seemed to just radiate off her skin in waves of pure ethereal light.

She stood in his modest kitchen, throwing her head back laughing at something stupid he said. And Carmen knew peace.

Maybe that’s why the shading pencils that had been shoved into a carboard box in the back of his closet finally made a reappearance.

He was at the market on a random Monday, their one and only day off, when he saw a display of sketchbooks, at the end of an aisle.

Instinct made him throw one in his basket. Black with a singular word embossed on the front in gold.

Create.

Carmen’s immediate thought was: that’s cheesy.

At home, sitting on the couch tapping his leg in impatience , he narrowed his eyes at the sketchbook in the center of his kitchen table. He thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad cover.

The word was like an alarm, a reminder that he could always be doing something, creating something new.

As afternoon turned to evening, Carm didn’t notice. He hadn’t looked up.

For the last four hours, he had been practically dead to the world.

All that existed was the image in his mind and the empty pages sitting before him.

The sound of his phone ringing startled him out of his daze. Realizing all of once that he was starving, and he had to pee, and his phone was still ringing.

Fuck, the phone!

He caught it before it went to voicemail.

“Yo!” He was out of breath, for no reason.

“Yo, you good?” Sydney chuckled, poking at him. “Am I still coming over to cook or are you like…training for the marathon?”

“I could run.” He huffed. “You don’t know.”

The smile that he refused to acknowledge was difficult to keep out of his voice, but he managed.

“Ha! I don’t think any Berzatto even knows the definition of the word ‘run’. Except maybe Pete, but he doesn’t count.”

That made a laugh bubble up out of him.

“He does run. Nat complains about his early morning jogs sometimes.”

“Of course he jogs!” She bellowed, cackling on the other end. “Nothing worse than a jogger.” Followed quickly by. “Don’t tell Nat or Pete I said that.”

Carmen sucked his teeth and tilted his head as if weighing his options, though she couldn’t see him.

“I don’t know…”

“Carmen!” He loved this. He loved her.

“I’m fucking with you, Syd. I won’t tell Nat you think her husband is awful because he jogs.”

“Good. Thank you.” She sighed. “Nat loves me more, anyway. She would take my side.”

“Over her husband?” He asked incredulously.

“No, jackass, over you.” She laughed.

“Ouch. A jackass that got his sister stolen by his CDC. Might as well just end it then. Here I was, taking the jeans out of the oven, just for you.”

“Well, now I’ve caught you in a lie. You forget, I see your oven as often as you do, and I haven’t seen a single sighting of denim.”

“I wait til you leave, obviously.”

“Just shut up and buzz me in, weirdo.” He can hear her smile through the phone knowing that he was the one to put it there warmed his blood.

He was floating on a cloud as he made his way to the front door. Leaving it ajar after buzzing her into the building.

[otakusparkle]

Identity V New Character Release

Fool's Gold (Norton Campbell) Character Preview Video

With the desire to escape from a life in the darkness of the mines, Norton Campbell believes the Manor willpresent him with another new "opportunity."

~Wanted~ Unstable groundplease stay away

Unstable Ground

When "Fool's Gold" strikes an obstacle with his pickaxe, an unstable ground extends 20 meters in both directions from thepoint of impact and covers all adjacent obstacles. Striking the unstable ground with the pickaxe again or removing the pickaxe from the unstable ground would cause a Collapse.

> Collapse

Striking an unstable ground with the pickaxe or removing the pickaxe from the unstable ground would cause a Collapse. Collapse deals 0.5x normal attack damage to nearby Survivors.

Magnetic Conduction

Throwing the special magnetic pickaxe and striking an obstacle creates unstable ground. Subsequent throws that hit the unstable grounds would cause a Collapse. If the pickaxe does not strike a wall,its cooldown is reduced by an additional 3 seconds upon being retrieved.

> Magnetic Extension

The pickaxe is an extension of "Fool's Gold's" senses and helps him locate "opportunities" from afar. After throwing the pickaxe, it can stay away from "Fool's Gold" for up to 10 seconds, during which "Fool's Gold" can complete most actionssuch as attacking, vaulting over windows, and destroying pallets. Once this period is over or when "Fool's Gold" is more than 60 meters away from the pickaxe, it will automatically return to him.

> Magnetic Retrieval

"Fool's Gold" can swiftly recall the pickaxe when it's thrownand cause a Collapse when the pickaxe is removed from an obstacle.

Attraction

"Fool's Gold" is attracted to more than just the electromagnetic field. "Fool's Gold" can manipulate the special attraction between his body andthe pickaxe to move swiftly toward his pickaxe and retrieve it. If "Fool's Gold" is stopped during this process due to reasons such as colliding with an obstacle,the pickaxe will still fly back into his grasp.

Magnetic Conversion

Convert a rock up to 60 meters away into a Magnetic Rock with a special magnetic pull.The Magnetic Rock creates a small unstable ground and lasts for 30 seconds.

> Resonance

Whenever a Collapse happens, all Magnetic Rocks resonate and cause a Collapse in their respective unstable grounds. The transmission time of the resonance increases with distance.

Instant Reaction

"Fool's Gold" charges up the pickaxe and activates an Instant Reaction when thrown.Instant Reaction immediately causes a Collapse to obstacles outside ofunstable grounds and creates an unstable ground. Charging Time: 3 seconds.

[kirain]

I love your Tiefling kids all grown up! The attention to detail is astonishing! But please, I need Doni! The sweet little non-verbal boy from the grove!!

I gotchu, anon! All the tiefling children that aren't confirmed to survive to Act 3, but very well could have. This is a continuation of this post. And thank you!

During the attack in the Shadowlands, Doni survived by squeezing between two cliffs and waiting out the slaughter. When silence fell, he paid his respects to the fallen and fled to the closest light source. He quickly spotted enchanted torches in the distance, and he realised they kept the shadows at bay. There he stayed until the curse lifted. Once free to move, he wandered cautiously to Moonrise Towers, where he was welcomed by other survivors. Though unable to speak, he would be instrumental in uncovering precious resources buried during the building's collapse; crawling under debris and mapping out paths for the adults to follow. As the land healed, Doni found a home, especially when Halsin returned. Though not a replacement for his biological father, he came to see the tender druid as a mentor, and with his guidance learned to hunt and attune himself with nature. Slowly, he also recovered from his trauma and reclaimed his voice. He would spend the rest of his days happily foraging food from the now vast forests, and all while blissfully married to the descendant of a Harper.

Meli was taken to Moonrise Prison with the other tieflings, but he managed to escape before reaching the cells. With pursuing guards on his heels, he jumped into the moat, nearly drowning as he dodged their arrows. Through sheer fear and desperation, he floundered to the shore, where he promptly fainted. When he woke, the shadows had faded and the land was bathed in light, but he felt anything but joy. For years, he walked a dark path, his anger seething and survival depending on theft and violence. This changed when he tried to rob a cleric of Lathander. The woman met his transgression with pity and forgiveness, and quickly invited him to join her at her temple. He agreed—with the intention of using her for food and shelter and eventually robbing her blind, but the woman was wise. She saw through his facade, shared her beliefs, and gradually helped him turn a new leaf. As he grew, surrounded by the clerics and their kindness, he too decided to worship Lathander, vowing to carry His virtues and redirecting all of his rage at His enemies. Upon completion of his apprenticeship, he would leave the temple and travel Faerûn, ridding it of undead abominations and protecting the innocent from their scourge.

Gan left the group long before they journeyed to the Shadowlands. Dissatisfied that he never got the chance to fight, and certain that Baldur's Gate wouldn't be the refuge the adults claimed, he chose to stay behind at the Grove. He had always been an independent soul, even at such a young age, and he continued to fend for himself while honing his skills on the practice dummies. The druids attempted to welcome him into their fold, but his proclivity towards violence caused a divide, despite their best efforts. Within a few months, he would leave the Grove and join a band of raiders, but even that stint was short lived when he came to empathise with their victims. One night, after a particularly brutal raid that ended in five murders, he slit the throat of the leader as he slept. It was then, in that moment of lost innocence, that he realised it wasn't violence he longed for, but vengeance. Vengeance for Elturel, vengeance for the refugees, and vengeance for anyone wronged by unfathomable evil. Eventually, he would cross paths with Zevlor, who would recognise the boy's struggle and train him in the ways of the paladin. This gave the wandering oathbreaker renewed purpose, and he would raise Gan to be one of the most feared but celebrated paladins in the Sword Coast.

Unfortunately, Zaki never made it to Baldur's Gate. He never even made it to the Shadowlands. Mere hours after leaving the Grove, he was separated from the group during a brief respite. As the others caught their breath, he left the trail to pee and pick some berries. Unbeknownst to him, he stepped a little too close to a den of wolf cubs, provoking the mother. She attacked, wounding his face and chest and knocking him into a nearby ravine. Once they realised he was missing, the group searched vigorously to find him, but to no avail—and they had to move on. Days later, he was found in a bad state by Rath, who rushed him back to the Grove. The experience had left him deeply traumatised, to the point that even his friend Gan was unable to console him. Feeling responsible for the boy, and the plight of all the tieflings, Rath decided to personally take him under his wing. Slowly, he introduced Zaki to the Grove's wolves, helping alleviate his fears, and soon he came to admire them, along with all the other animals in the area. Through Rath's teachings, he developed an appreciation for peace and the unpredictability of nature, earning him a blessing from Silvanus. From that moment on, Zaki would stay in the Grove indefinitely, one day inheriting the title of Archdruid.

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 1

>>Tie-breaker winner: FABRIC

>> Readers select a potentially abandoned cave with foot-branded boxes in it.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

As April looks around the cave, she notices that the walls are made of familiar dark grey stone. Wherever they were portaled to, they’re at least within the borders of April’s kingdom.

However, that is a small comfort given their current predicament. 

Lining the stone walls are unlit torches, with some cobwebs wrapped between the wood and the rusty metal mounts. Blackened ash mars the stone above the torches, but it’s flaking off, leaving crackled patterns behind. 

As April’s eyes drift downward, she notices several wooden boxes littered along the sides, all bearing a red footmark. She furrows her brow—she doesn’t recognize that symbol. Does this symbol belong to the group that ambushed her convoy and attempted to kidnap her?

April turns her head, and she notices that the cavern continues to tunnel deeper into the earth, the path downward shrouded in unnerving darkness. The air coming up from the deep tastes almost stale; if this cave was used as a base for this mysterious group, it seems to be abandoned.

“Wherever we are, I don’t think we should stay.” The yokai guard informs as he helps April off her feet. “While this wasn’t their target destination, the two grunts appeared to know where they were. The longer we stay here, the more likely the rest of their group is to find us.”

The yokai guard tugs April toward the entrance of the cave, but April tugs her wrists out of his grip. “Wait!”

The purple-clad turtle turns to face her. “We don’t have time, Your Highness. Your safety is my highest priority, and I cannot guarantee it here.”

April gestures toward the boxes. “But there might be supplies! Something we can take so we’re not completely screwed trying to get back home.”

Well, her home, her true home. Not his. 

“You raise a good point. Alright.” The guard reaches for something behind his back, and in a flash of purple light a metallic pole appears seemingly out of thin air. “I’ll make quick work of the boxes so we don’t linger here longer than necessary.”

However, April’s staring in awe at the staff. “Wait a second, what is that? And where did it come from?”

The turtle pauses, looking at the staff in his hands. “It’s my titanium bō staff! A feat of scientific innovation, and my preferred weapon of choice. And it was just hidden within my armor, as it's collapsible.” The guard places one of his hands on the end of the staff and pushes, and in a flash of purple light the staff condenses back down into a thick, hand-sized cylinder in the palm of his other hand.

April’s eyes sparkle for several seconds, but then she blinks and tilts her head. “Wait, why were you using a sword? And why didn’t you use it against my kidnappers.”

“My b—Prince Raphael asked that I use a katana. He said it would be symbolic if our weapons matched your guards, something about showing respect and camaraderie.” The guard shrugs as if the reasoning is trivial and something he doesn’t quite agree with. “As for why I didn’t pull my beloved staff out earlier, I wasn’t confident that I had enough time to pull it out and use it to protect you. Using the lowly dagger to dispose of our enemy was logically the best option.”

Well, April certainly can’t argue with that. The kidnapper had a knife on her neck, so every second counted in saving her life. 

“That makes sense, but–” she gestures to the staff “–how can that cut open a box?”

“Ohohoho! Excellent question, Your Highness.” The staff extends outward and the guard fiddles with something in the center of the staff. “As I mentioned previously, this staff is a feat of scientific innovation, and there are a few tools packed into it.”

April has to hold back a gasp as the yokai guard presses a button and a small saw flicks out at the top end of the staff. Then the teeth of the blade start moving.

“Tada! A motorized saw, powered by my ninpō.” He places a hand on his puffed-out chest. “Impressed?”

April looks at the guard. This is probably the first time he’s appeared, well, happy, in front of her. He’s not scowling, or giving her dirty looks. And while he’s doing his very best to hide it, she can see a hopeful look in his eyes that she approves and admires his scientific accomplishments.

Does he not get enough praise back home or something?

Still, she indulges him. “Oh, it’s amazing! Ah–” April fiddles with her fingers “–I don’t think I ever learned your name.”

“It’s Donatello, future co-captain of the Royal Guard, Your Highness.” 

“Thanks! Well, Sir Donatello, how about you demonstrate how your saw can annihilate the boxes?” April asks, a smile dimpling her cheeks and a glint in her eye.

“With pleasure.” 

The saw makes quick work of the tops of all the wooden boxes, allowing April to riffle through the stored goods. As April searches through the first box, her eyes land on one particular item and she dives for it. 

“Sweet! A pair of pants!” She holds up the pair of black pants like a trophy. “This will make our journey much easier.”

Without hesitation, April manages to slip the pants underneath her dress, though it takes a bit of effort to get the pants on with the ruffles of her foofy dress getting in the way. 

Though her stupid dress will not be a problem for much longer. 

Once the pants are on, she turns to Donatello who’s cutting through the last box. “Sir Donatello. Do you mind cutting off the skirt portion of my dress?”

The guard immediately stops his saw and seems to choke on air. “I-I beg your pardon, Princess?”

“Can you cut the skirt portion of my dress?” April motions to the annoying garb. “It’s only gonna get in the way.”

Donatello looks mortified. “I don’t think that would be wise. You’ve already been separated from the convoy, and I am positive that your King would not be pleased if I returned you in such a poor state.”

“I really don’t care what my father thinks,” April shrugs, “Besides, I’ll just say it was my idea, or that the dress got ripped on a tree stump or something. You won’t take the blame.”

The turtle yokai hesitates, but eventually walks over and takes a small knife out of his staff. “If that’s what you wish, Princess.”

He makes quick work of the annoying skirt, cutting around her mid-thigh and turning the dress into something that reminds April of a summer chemise. He then cuts a ribbon from the discarded fabric and uses it as a makeshift ribbon, tying it around her waist so that the remaining portion of her dress is secure.

“There, how’s that, Princess?” He asks as he slots the small knife back into his staff.

“Oh, this is much better.” April stretches her legs, the first time she’s been able to do so this entire journey. “I hated that stupid dress.”

The guard pauses, tapping his bō staff before looking at her quizzically. “You… don’t like your clothing?”

April considers whether she should be telling the guard of her woes, but then shrugs. What’s he going to do, snitch on her?

“No. It’s… it’s what my father wanted me to wear when I met with Prince Raphael and the Lords and Ladies of your kingdom.” April shrugs. “Didn’t have much say in the matter.”

Donatello hums and nods. “I see.”

There is a pause, not quite awkward, but not quite comfortable.

The guard clears his throat. “Well, I think we should search the boxes and get a move on. We’ve stayed here long enough as it is.”

Together they ransack the abandoned goods, grabbing any supplies they thought might be useful. Sir Donatello ends up carrying most of the equipment while April takes a sheathed serrated dagger and slips it behind the makeshift ribbon on her waist. 

“Are you ready to go, Princess?” Sir Donatello asks, holding out a hand toward her.

April nods. “As ready as I will ever be.” 

Together they leave the depths of the cave, only stopping at the mouth to take in their surroundings. 

“I’m afraid I am not too familiar with your territory.” The yokai guard states as he looks around. “Do you have an idea of which way we should go?”

April bites her lip. They’re up high on one of the mountains, though she thinks she can see the path that winds through the terrain in the distance. It will take more than a day to get there, assuming they don’t get lost or sidetracked.

But how are they going to get there?

April looks immediately in front of her. To her right, she spots a rough dirt path with some weeds and plants starting to grow back along the path’s edge. To her left, she sees a more treacherous terrain, with stones and fallen branches littering the forest floor.

April decides… >> To take the dirt path.

[dearestones]

What Comes After (Grim and Reader)

Warnings: N/A. 

Anonymous Request: Devin!!! Congratulations!🥳🥳🥳 thank you so much for all your hard work, too😊💕💕💕

Could I request “why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again?” with any twisted wonderland character of your choosing? Thank you for the wonderful event, and I hope you're having a great day💕💕

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Ramshackle Dorm never felt so warm and cozy as it did now. 

In the dorm’s lounge, your friends were either sprawled upon the cushions of the couch or lying on the floor, various textbooks, notes, and blazers were used as makeshift pillows. On the couch, you spied Epel sleepily snuggling into Jack’s stomach, while Sebek vainly tried to appear aloof and regal even while he was sleeping. While his fellow couch-mates looked rather comfortable, the half-fae sat upright, his arms crossed over his chest. Meanwhile, you spotted your Heartslabyul friends, Ace and Deuce, collapsed onto their textbooks and notes. When they awoke, you couldn’t help but think mischievously, there would be lined marks all over their faces. 

Finally, you spotted Ortho hovering in the corner of the lounge, obviously in sleep mode. 

Silently, you moved further into the dorm lounge, your arms filled with blankets and pillows that you had stolen from the other rooms. Before you did anything with the items that you held carefully in your hands, you made sure to clear the area of your friends’ studying materials. From the laps of both Jack and Sebek, you withdrew a potionology textbook and a binder filled with incantations that were meant to be memorized for defense, respectively; the Heartslabyul duo, a series of booklets detailing the various herbs and fungi that were supposed to be on Crewel’s next exam. 

Once you gathered all the materials and placed them in differing piles on the low coffee table (carefully and without messing up the notes or else one half-fae would get really angry with you), you began to tuck in all of the boys. 

For Jack and Epel, you sacrificed one of your larger blankets. It was large, fluffy, and was a dark green that reminded you of emeralds. After you made sure that Jack wouldn’t get a crick in his neck for sleeping in his particular position–that is, curled over Epel–you turned your attention towards Sebek. 

Unfortunately, there was no way that Sebek could possibly sleep like that without causing undue stress to his body. Swallowing back your nervousness, you shook Sebek’s shoulder, already anticipating an onslaught of verbal warfare. However, as your fingers gently brushed his shoulder, his light green eyes snapped open. Already fearing for your life, you began to start apologizing and begging him to keep quiet, but Sebek must have already been aware of what you were doing before he opened his eyes. 

To your surprise, he gestured for another blanket in your arms and when you offered it to him, he placed it around himself and went back to his upright position complete with his arms still folded over his chest. 

When you didn’t move your position–you were stunned that he wasn’t going to go sleep on another couch or at least join Jack and Epel in their little cuddle pile–he opened one of his eyes and glared at you. 

You mouthed a “Fine” at him before heading towards one of the first few friends that you made at Night Raven College. 

For these two, you gently awoke the both of them so you could place a pillow beneath their heads. Ace grumbled a little, but still managed an incomprehensible thank you. As always, it was Deuce who colored slightly at your kindness, but eventually he quieted from his embarrassment to thank you earnestly. You told the both of them that they could relocate to one of the other couches available or go to an actual room with a bed, but they must have been too tired because they waved off your offers. 

Satisfied with a job well done, you turned to the last occupant of the room. 

No, it wasn’t Ortho. 

(However, you did pat him lightly on the arm as a mini goodnight from you to him). 

In front of the fireplace, lying on his back and his paws facing up in the air, Grim slept. A few hours ago, the boys had lugged in a few logs and had started a fire so that they could study comfortably. The fire had been stoked recently and showed no signs of dying anytime soon, so you ignored it for now in favor of gently lifting up your favorite cat beast onto a pillow. However, as you placed his sleeping body atop of it, his strange blue eyes opened wide. 

He yawned, his sharp teeth dangerously close to nipping you. Blearily, he mumbled out a greeting. “Henchman? Are we done studying?”

You huffed at that, fully knowing that Grim was going to cram later, but you knew that he was still trying his best. Oddly enough, you were proud that he had been putting more effort into his studies, which was a far cry from how he had first started out. 

“Everybody’s asleep,” you whispered. You held a finger to your lips to accentuate your point. “Do you want to head to our room or stay in the lounge?” 

Grim’s three pronged tail swayed from side to side as pondered the offer over in his mind. While you waited, you sat beside him, your legs sprawled in front of you as your toes were warmed by the heat of the fireplace flames. As the wood burned, you were aware of the crackling and snapping as the logs eventually succumbed to the greedy hunger of fire. Fully warmed now, you found yourself steadily leaning backward until you were fully supine with your face angled upwards and facing the ceiling. 

The ground was hard against your back, but you dismissed such discomfort. The warmth was easing you into a lull that would latch onto you until you had no choice but to fall prey to Morpheus and the Sandman. 

A paw gently stroked your cheek. Although you kept your eyes closed, you made a humming sound to let Grim know that you were still awake. 

For some odd reason, Grim remained silent and you found yourself frowning. Opening your eyes, you expected your cat beast to be actually asleep, his paw resting on your cheek a mistake that he hadn’t rectified. 

And yet–

When you gazed at him, you found that his sapphire blue stare was mirroring you. 

“Grim?”

The cat beast hesitated. As a way to soothe this sudden bout of nervousness, you began to pet his fur. As always, he wasn’t exactly fluffy like most normal animals, but there was comfort in pressing your fingers in his weak spots and watching him melt into your embrace. As a result of the aforementioned melting, his head smooshed into your shoulder and that’s when you heard him speak. 

“You looked sad today.” 

You blinked and felt your face warm. To calm yourself, you continued kneading the fur around his neck and in between his ears. 

Voice measured, you replied, “Really? I guess the stress about the upcoming exams has got me feeling blue. Heh.” You poked him in his cheek, careful not to press too hard or else he’ll claw at you for insinuating that he was cute enough to irritate like this. “Get it, blue?”

Grim rolled his eyes and you could have sworn that the bright blue flames from his ears turned red for a second. 

Okay. He wanted to be serious with you.

That was new, but you could oblige. 

You withdrew your hand from his fur, silently lamenting the loss of contact, before you answered him in full. 

“We have less than two weeks left, Grim.”

He nodded absently, his eyes never leaving yours. What was going on in that brain of his, you couldn’t help but think. It wasn’t like him to be this concerned over just a random mood change. 

“Yeah, and? Henchman, if you’re worried about failing, don’t worry! You’ve been studying so much with these guys–” He waved his paws in the random direction of your fellow Night Raven College first years. “–that I think if given the chance, you could actually teach the subjects by yourself!”

Almost as if you wanted to remove yourself from the situation, you faced the ceiling again. It was true. Way before the end of year exams were announced, you had long since started documenting and taking notes of what should appear on the tests. It wasn’t out of pride or the ambition to be at the top of the first year student list. No, it was because… 

Well…

Only you and Grim knew what it was like to be stuck in this particular situation and even then, it seemed like you were fighting this battle alone despite your shared title as one student. 

“It’s not about the exams,” you whisper into the red tinged darkness. “It’s about what comes after.”

The Headmage had only offered you room and board for the school year only. You had asked around and while summer classes were available (for students who needed remedial lessons), what use were they of to you? Sure, you could probably skip ahead in some classes and lighten your load for the next few years, but what then? What came next? After nearly a year stuck in a world where magic exists and with no hope of ever going back to your home world, you were tired. 

Studying for exams was the only thing that kept your head above water. 

It was a red herring for the real thing that caused you stress: the need to find a place to stay. 

“I…” And that’s when you realized that your eyes had become wet and your throat had become tight and scratchy. Even breathing, a task that should have come naturally to you, had become laborious and hitched the longer you thought about your situation. “I don’t want to stay here forever.”

At the same time, you didn’t want to be cast out into the world without a safety net. For all of his grand platitudes about kindness and benevolence, the Headmage did little to reassure you that someone would take you in when he knew that you had come into this world with nothing and that while it had been almost a year, you still had nothing to your name.

Only used garments from previous Ramshackle tenants; ratty, tattered notebooks that taught you things that were of no consequence to you; and a dorm that was empty except for ghosts. 

If you were looking at this optimistically, Night Raven College would house you for the next three to four years all through the school and summer terms. Once you got your internship (hopefully something that didn’t require innate magic), you could finally come into your own. 

On the other hand, maybe the Headmage would finally tire of you. The Overblots had long since ceased after Malleus’ meltdown, but you hadn’t heard from the Headmage since. Common sense warned you that it would be best to set up a meeting with your warden so that you could be on the same page and map out a route on how you should proceed, but you couldn’t do it. You procrastinated. 

You didn’t want to be confronted with the reality that the Headmage could just as easily throw you out as let you stay on the grounds when most of the student populace had gone. 

And, a traitorous voice in your head whispered, what if the Headmage actually found a way for you to return? What if all of your worrying and fretting was useless? 

All you had to do was ask… 

You closed your eyes tightly–a vain attempt to stifle your tears. It was useless, though, a few tears escaped and you felt them trail down the creases of your closed eyes and down the slope of your cheeks. Absently, you felt Grim rest his paw on you again. 

“You’re gonna be a great mage one day. You know that, right?” A smile split your face open; it felt painful and out of place as you began to sink into despair. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Silence. 

And then–

All of a sudden, you felt a weight drop onto your chest at an alarming velocity. Spluttering with disbelief, you found yourself suddenly face to face with Grim. His ears were blazing fiercely, the fiery red at odds with the exact same fire mirrored in his sapphire blue eyes. 

“G-grim–?”

“Why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again?” You felt the full weight of his body press down on your chest, nearly suffocating you as you tried to regain your bearings. “Do you think the Great Grim would actually abandon my henchman?”

“N-no? That’s not what I–”

“Exactly!” His paws pressed deep into your cheeks, forcing you to look only at him. There was no escape from him. “If the Headmage kicks you out, he’s also kicking me out! Where you’ll go, I’ll go!” 

Oh. 

So, Grim had actually been paying attention to you. 

“But that’s not gonna happen,” Grim continued. He removed his paws from your face, but remained seated on your chest, his eyes defiant and his body language demanding that you pay him attention. “Because we’re a team and if that stupid Headmage knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep us both because we’re gonna be great mages! Just you wait!”

He stood above you, his ears finally returning to their electric blue color. In amazement, you could only gape at how mature and confident he sounded. Could it be really that easy? Or was it that foolish optimism you were feeling?

Regardless, you managed to huff a disbelieving laugh as you reached out and scratched the fur in between his ears. The heat welcomed you like an embrace as Grim followed suit. Without so much as an invitation, the cat beast burrowed into your neck as he flung his forelimbs around you. 

“Didja hear me, Henchman? We’re gonna be great mages and you’re gonna find a way to cross worlds so I can see how much of a dump your old home was, ‘kay?” 

Playfully, you pinched his cheek at his dig at your home world, but ultimately let it pass. 

“You do realize that I still don’t have magic, Oh Great Grim.”

“So what?” He held you even tighter as if it were possible. “That’s why we’ll be both the greatest mages in the world! You’ll be the first to not have magic!”

You didn’t question his logic, your mind was still frazzled from the roller coaster of emotions you felt and the snot and tears that were building up at the back of your throat was not helping matters either. Perhaps in the morning, when you were well rested, you would tease Grim for such a weird thing to say, but for now–

You could only hold him closer so that he could use you as a pillow.

As his breathing slowed down in slumber, you blindly reached around yourself until you finally picked up the last blanket. It took some maneuvering, but you managed to drape the cloth over yourself and the very first friend that you met in Twisted Wonderland. 

Tomorrow, you promised yourself. Tomorrow you will corner the Headmage with Grim in tow and finally settle the summer arrangements. 

Whatever happened next, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone. 

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TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST