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dyaz-stories · 5 months ago

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JUJUTSU BOYS + POST SHIBUYA HURT/COMFORT

following Shibuya, the Jujutsu boys are in dire need of some comfort

featuring: nanami, yuuji, megumi, maki, inumaki, yuta, gojo

word count: 4.7k (600-700 words per character)

cw: canon divergence for nanami and gojo, season 2 spoilers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries, everyone needs a hug, some fluff ig, established relationships, not proofread

NANAMI

“He woke up,” Shoko informs you, closing the room to Kento’s door behind her. She doesn’t bother with small talk, gives only the necessary information since Shibuya. You don’t blame her. You understand why she would choose to keep her energy for what she thinks is essential. So when she approaches you, hands buried in her pockets, you know there is something she believes is that important to tell you.

“Is he— Has he said anything?”

“He thanked me — you know how he is. But, um— he’s lost an eye, and he’s badly burned. There’s nothing I can do about that. I’m sorry.”

She sounds genuinely dejected, but you shake your head.

“It doesn’t matter. Without you, he wouldn’t be alive. Can I—”

She gives you a faint smile.

“Sure. You can go in.”

You don’t wait for her to have finished her sentence to open the door. Kento looks up at you, and you take him in for a second. An eye patch covers his left eye, and that whole side of his body is burnt, badly, with fresh bandages covering it. It doesn’t stop you from launching himself into his arms, and he catches you without missing a beat.

“You’re alive,” is all you can say, repeating it like a mantra.

“I am,” he answers. “I apologize for worrying you.”

So very like him, apologizing while he’s lying on a hospital bed after suffering from horrific injuries.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” you whisper into his neck, tears rolling freely from your cheeks. “I don’t— I don’t—” I don’t know how I would have kept living without you.

His eye is filled with fondness and love, when he looks at you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask, gesturing at his left side.

“It does not,” he answers. “Shoko’s abilities are quite remarkable for that. I am healed. The bandages are mostly to stop the skin from becoming too dry — due to the size of the area, she couldn’t do it all herself.”

“Then… can I kiss you?”

He swallows around the lump in his throat. If he is honest, when Shoko talked to him after he woke up, one of his greatest fears was that you would be disgusted by him. He knows you find him handsome — found him handsome, at least. He knows that this was thinking far too little of you, and yet relief washes over him at your question.

“You can always kiss me.”

You’re cautious when you do, don’t want to risk hurting him, despite what he’s just told you. Your lips feel like coming home, and he loses himself in you, if only for a moment. All too soon, he feels the need to pull away for air. Even with Shoko’s miracle work, he feels weak, a sensation he finds himself hating with his entire being. He likes being strong, likes being your rock, likes supporting you in any situation. He despises the fact that that has been taken away from him.

“I think it would be for the best if I spent the night here,” he tells you. “The chair isn’t very comfortable, so if you wish to go home, I wouldn’t—”

You shake your head immediately.

“I’m not leaving you anytime soon. I’m spending the night here. I’m sure I can find a pillow and a blanket somewhere, and I will be just fine with that.”

Aren’t you just adorable when you’ve made up your mind?

“If that is okay with you, that’s fine with me,” he nods. “But, first…” He opens his arm on the right side. “Would you join me?”

There isn’t much space in the bed for the two of you, but you make it fit, leaning against the wall so he can have his head against your chest. Even though he wants nothing more than to revel in the moment, he feels his eyes closing, lulled by the beating of your heart and your fingers carding through his hair.

He loves taking care of you but he supposes that, for the time being, it won’t be too bad if he’s the one being taken care of.

YUUJI

Finding Yuuji following the Shibuya Incident requires you to venture into the belly of Tokyo, making your way through curse after curse, stepping over the bodies of sorcerers and humans alike, never taking the time to stop. At least Megumi had warned you that he was likely to keep moving, so you hadn’t given up hope yet, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid for him. Not physically, no, you didn’t think there was anything left here that could actually hurt him, but, based on what Megumi had told you, his head hung low, you can only imagine how devastated he must be.

You spot him when he finishes off a curse, on a rooftop near you. It isn’t long before you land there yourself, and there he is.

“Yuuji!”

He freezes when you call out his name, and turns towards you oh so slowly. When he looks at you, you could almost cry with relief. There he is, your Yuuji. A little worse for wear, but alright. You take a step towards him, ready to run into his arms, when he takes a step back.

A tall man wearing a kimono, his hair tied into two buns, lands in front of him, between the two of you.

“Who is that?” he asks Yuuji. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

There is quiet resolution in his voice. He doesn’t sound like he wants to kill you, but you don’t think he would hesitate to do it.

“N-no,” Yuji says, his voice hoarse. “No, it’s alright, Choso. Would you mind…?”

The man nods, still not showing any emotions.

“Of course. I’ll give the two of you some space.”

He throws you a threatening glance — as if you could ever be a threat to Yuuji — before jumping off the building.

You take another step forward. This time, Yuuji doesn’t move, but he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Don’t,” he says. He sounds weak.

Another step.

“Why not?”

He closes his eyes.

“I’ve killed—” A deep, shuddering breath. “—so many people.”

Step.

“That wasn’t you.”

You say it softly, gently, but you’re not sure that he can hear you, as he is now.

“It’s still my fault.”

His voice is no stronger than a whisper.

“It was Sukuna’s doing.” Step. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Step.

You’re close to him now, close enough to see his hands balled up into fists, his lower lip trembling, how he scrunches his face so he doesn’t cry.

“Yuji,” you call, and in your mouth, his name sounds like a term of endearment. “It’s not your fault.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t have anything more to say. He wants so, so badly to believe you, but his heart, his mind, and Sukuna’s voice in the back of his head are all whispering that you’re lying. When you reach him, your hands go up to his face, cradle it like it’s a precious porcelain. You trace the scar on his forehead, stroke the one on his lip with your thumb, and then you press your lips against it with great care.

And he falls apart.

Your arms are around him as he lets himself fall to the ground, and you let him bury his head in the crook of your neck as he sobs, let him hold on to you like a drowning man to a lifeline. You stroke the back of his head gently. The motion is soothing. Soft. Loving.

“I’m a monster,” he chokes, and tears fill your eyes.

“You’re not,” you promise, voice breaking. “You’re not. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He gasps like he’s breathing for the first time in days, and you keep him there, in your arms. He’s not okay yet — won’t be for a long time. But he’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s moving forward, one small step at a time.

You will be here to support him until he can stand on his own again.

No matter how long it takes.

MEGUMI

Megumi has always been the quiet type. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, lets people in on his thoughts only in spare, carefully chosen sentences. He turns away if emotions overwhelm in, deals with the worst of it privately, would never let anything spill out if he could help him. Emotions are his problems, and he cannot bear the thought of them hurting someone other than him.

Still, you’ve always been able to read him. The softness in his eyes when he looks at Yuuji and Nobara, the smile he doesn’t quite allow to make its way to his lips when Gojo decides to spoil him, the way he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest so he can hide his face in your neck, even if you can spot his ears turning red. The way the corner of his lips turn down, too, when his mind drifts towards Tsumiki, the twitch in his jaw when someone brings up his father, the clench of his fists when he feels hopeless.

You can read him like a book.

He is even quieter when he comes back from Shibuya, and his emotions are expressed even more minutely, blink and you’ll miss it.

You can only watch from the audience in one of the numerous meetings that follow his return. Him and a number of other sorcerers testify, and you have to hear him recounting the same details over and over. You’re here to see, helpless, how he lowers his gaze when several sorcerers recommend Yuuji’s execution, and how his eyes dull when his sentencing is pronounced.

But he never comes to you. At first, you assume he can’t — there are a number of physicals for him to clear. You reason that he must be exhausted, must want his space for now, and resolve to give it to him. It’s on the day of the last council, when he averts his eyes to avoid meeting yours, that you realize what was happening.

He’s been avoiding you.

It’s a half-hearted attempt, one that comes to an end when you knock against the open door to his room. He doesn’t look up at you when he answers.

“Come in.”

His room is almost bare, but you know he keeps pictures from the two of you in his drawers.

You sit on the bed next to him, let your knee brush against his. He doesn’t move away.

“I haven’t seen you since you came back,” you say. You know better than to broach the subject directly, wouldn’t want to spook him.

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. I just came to check in on you.”

He’s quiet for longer than he should be.

“…I have to go back out there. I have to talk to Itadori.”

You read between the lines. You know that he would give you more than that if he felt he could, understand that he is trying to make this as painless for you as he can.

You reach for his hands and squeeze it.

“Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“…you sure?”

You know that’s not the question he’s asking. You know he wants you to feel able to yell at him, protest, scream until there’s nothing left of the two of you, all so that you will feel better, even if he leaves unloved and a little more shattered than he was when he arrived.

“I’m sure.”

The sigh of relief he lets out sounds more like a sob. Next thing you know, he’s letting his head drop onto your shoulder, black hair tickling your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry. Can I— Can I just stay like this a little longer? Please?”

You keep yourself still, reach up to cup his cheek, stroke it softly.

“As long as you need.”

He moves his head so he can press a kiss to your cheek, lets his lips linger there longer than he needs to. When he turns around, you see he’s turned crimson.

The outside world might have turned into hell, but this room hasn’t yet.

In here, the two of you can hope that simpler, happier times will come again some day.

MAKI

Maki supposes that there are worse ways to wake up than with her head in your lap. By the time she comes to, Reverse Cursed Technique has done its job — mostly. If she could muster it, she would be glad that she wasn’t awake to feel it processing. It’s always felt foreign to her, and she hates feeling it on her body.

What she hates more, though, is the tingling of the burns on her face and body.

“Isn’t there anything to be done about that?” you’re asking Shoko when her eyes flutter open. You’re mindlessly running your fingers over the scarred skin, and it feels fresh and soothing.

“I’m sorry,” Shoko says, sounding exhausted but always taking the time to answer students’ concerns. “RCT can’t fix burns. Non-sorcerers have done some progress in that domain, I think. Maybe she’ll want to look into it.”

“I hope she won’t care,” you mumble.

“Why,” Maki asks, and you look down at her in shock, “is it that bad?”

She pushes herself up, looking around for her glasses, but stops when she realizes both you and Shoko are staring at her, mouth gaping.

“You’re something else,” Shoko finally comments, a tired grin forming on her lips. “Thought you’d be asleep for at least another day. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in the next room, alright?”

She leaves with a wave of her hand, some of the weight of the past week taken off her shoulders, now that she’s done her work.

When Maki turns to look back at you, you already have her glasses in your hand. You’re careful when you pass the branches over her ears to put them on her, and she lets you do it, studying your expression. Your eyes are red from crying, and you look tired, too, but at least she cannot see any injuries on you.

“So?” she raises an eyebrow at you, and her skin stretches uncomfortably. “Do I really look that terrible?”

You shake your head and smile at her, reaching up to cup her cheek.

“You’re as stunning as always. I’d just hate it if you thought otherwise.”

She leans into your touch, closing her eyes. Her whole body aches. She cannot pinpoint any real physical pain, but there is an overall soreness that she wants to stretch out. She would, if she could bear the thought of losing your touch, if only for a second.

“What about my hair?” she asks, trying to add a playful inflexion to her tone. “Don’t tell me you let them do whatever they wanted with it.”

You shake your head, mirroring her expression.

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you say with a fake eyeroll. “I’ll have you know it looks super stylish.”

She nods, then turns her head to kiss the inside of your palm. She likes the way it flusters you, how you bite your lip and glance away to hide it from her.

“Do you— do you want to hear about what else has happened?”

Her smile dims, and she shakes her head.

“Can I get a minute of this first?” Her voice comes out hoarser than she would like. “Y-you can tell me afterwards. I just— I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” you reply, softly.

When you open your arms, she doesn’t hesitate a second to plunge in. She rests her cheek against your chest, and you wrap her in a tight hug that she returns without missing a beat. You’re warm and soft, as you always are.

She’ll get back to fighting, to throwing her whole body in the line of fire soon enough, that is a promise. She’ll mourn the dead, she’ll shed tears.

But first, she gets a minute of respite, in the arms of the only person that can give it to her.

INUMAKI

You rush through the emergency room, unbridled fear in your veins. The place is a morgue. There are more dead than living in here, and you’d be horrified if your mind wasn’t focused on one person and one person only — one that you cannot find. Cursed energy is no use right now, not with the place being such a mess.

“Ieiri!” you finally call when you see her passing by, pale as a corpse, not examining a body for more than handful of seconds before moving on to the next. “Where— Where is Toge?”

She looks straight through you. The dark circles under her eyes are even deeper than usual.

“Alive. That way.”

She point vaguely in a direction and then she’s gone, but it’s all you need. You find yourself running, unceremoniously opening and closing doors in your desperate search for him. When you find him, you could almost cry in relief.

“Toge,” you call, and you’re afraid your legs will give in underneath you.

He looks at you with wide eyes — eyes that you love so much, because they always say everything his lips can’t. Despite everything that’s happened tonight, they’re full of life, and that is the sight you’d been hoping for the most.

It’s only after looking inside that you realize what’s happened to his arm.

You walk over to him, sit on the chair next to his bed. He holds his hand out for you to take, and when you do, he squeezes it between his fingers, three times. His own, silent way of saying ‘I love you’. You lean forward, resting your elbows on the bed and hanging your head low.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper. “I was so scared.”

You feel his lips on the top of your head, and you cannot help but smile. It feels selfish, smiling in such circumstances, when so many people have lost their lives and their loved ones. But you’re reunited with him, and it is the only reaction that feels appropriate. You look up at him. Without his usual clothes, the seal on his mouth is on full display.

“Do you want a scarf?” you ask, gesturing at your bag. You always carry one, as well as cough syrup, just in case.

Fondness flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head. Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand to tap on his phone. The movements are clumsy, and a knot forms in your throat, watching him do it, but you can’t think of anything to do to help him.

‘No need,’ the phone reads when he turns it back towards you. And then, after a line break ‘Sukuna attacked.’

You’d hear about that. You… had just hoped it wasn’t true.

“So, Itadori…?”

“Bonito flakes,” he answers, shaking his head. Silence falls on the room.

You usually like silence with him. It feels comfortable, like an old friend you’re happy to welcome. Tonight, though, you feel the need to blurt out “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

His lips turn downward, and he gestures at his arm dejectedly, but you shake your head, and you stand up so you can sit on the bed, by his legs. You grab his hand in both of yours.

“I would take anything as long as it means you’re back here with me. I know— I know it’s selfish, but I just— You’re everything.”

Toge presses his forehead against yours when you start crying. Gently, he frees his hand so he can wipe the tears running down your cheeks. He doesn’t get to express his emotions freely, so you do it for the two of you, that’s how it’s always been between you. That doesn’t stop him from tilting your chin so he can press his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and gentle.

“I love you,” you say for the both of you.

He wishes he could tell you that he hasn’t felt like he’d truly made it back from Shibuya until he saw you walking through the door.

When he kisses you again, he thinks you’re aware of it.

YUTA

“They agreed to entrust me with Itadori’s execution,” Yuta tells you when he finds you, anxiously waiting for him to come out of his meeting with the higher-ups. “I had to take a binding vow, but that won’t be a problem.”

He says it so casually, and you can’t help but sigh. Immediately, his eyes fill with worry.

“Is something wrong?”

You can feel his eyes scanning you, looking for an injury, and that brings a faint smile out of you. As if anything could hurt you here, in one of the last jujutsu strong place in Japan.

“I just wish you wouldn’t have to do that,” you admit with a shrug. “I wish there was another solution.” I wish you didn’t think the weight of the world is yours to take now that Gojo isn’t here to bear it.

“Oh!” He lights up, and you hate that he feels relief, because to him, it is inconsequential as long as it’s happening to him. “That’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Well, someone has to, since he won’t do it himself. You reach for his hand, fiddling with his fingers, and you can’t help but smile when you feel him freeze. You can’t believe he still reacts to your touch that way, no matter how many times you do it.

“Breathe,” you say, glancing up at him.

He flushes when he realizes he was, indeed, holding his breath.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He doesn’t have to apologize, but he always does.

“Then I’ll go and keep an eye on Toge and Maki,” you decide. “I heard Maki’s recovering well, but I’ll see if there’s anything more they need. Maybe I’ll help Toge get back to his family.”

Yuta hesitates.

“You don’t— You don’t have to do that for me, you know?”

Ha. Guilty as charged. You’re just trying to take some of the weight off his shoulders so he won’t have to carry it all alone. You wrap your arms around his neck, smile when he turns even redder. He doesn’t move away from you though, and, after hesitating, he even closes his hands on your waist. The touch is feather-light, and you think he’d take them off if you breathed a little too hard. But it’s there, and he’s come a long way, truly.

“I know. I just want to.”

He’s crimson, but his eyes still soften at your words. With a sigh, he leans his forehead against yours.

“What have I done to get this lucky?” he marvels, and he sounds so loving you think you might just melt in your spot.

“You deserve the world,” you answer truthfully.

He lets out an embarrassed laugh that you interrupt with a kiss. His lips are soft and cautious against yours, and he is nothing but tender. You know he’s doing his best to restrain himself, both because you’re in a public space where someone could walk by and because it takes a lot more to get him out of his shell.

“Wh-what was that for?” he asks when you pull away, a pout in his voice.

“For luck,” you hum in reply. “You better come back to me.”

His fingers tighten on your waist. He doesn’t want to let go. If he could shut the whole world out and live only in your arms, he thinks he would do it in a heartbeat. But there are people out there who need saving, and you know even you can’t stop him from going to help them.

“I’ll keep your friends safe until then, okay?”

No matter what you tell him, he still doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve you. That means he should let go of you, be on his way and wish you well on yours. Instead, in an impulsive move, he wraps his arms tighter around your waist to pull you flush against his chest in a tight hug.

You laugh in surprise and hug him back, and in that moment, he is absolutely certain that there is nothing that could stop him from coming back to you.

GOJO

“Guess who’s back!” Satoru calls when he walks into your home as if nothing’s happened, as if you haven’t spent hours on the phone with various sorcerers, trying to understand what on earth was happening and if he was even still alive.

You turn to look at him with daggers in your eyes, and you want to scream, but you don’t find the words when you take in the sight of him. There’s blood on his face that he hasn’t bothered to wipe off, his clothes are torn, the blindfold he’s holding in his hand is in an even sorrier state, and despite the smile on his face, you don’t think there is a muscle to his body that isn’t in a state a tension.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He shrugs, walks across the room to grab a towel that he vigorously rubs against his face.

“I’m always okay.”

The sentence sounds empty, and you’re about to go up to him when he drops the towel to move towards the bathroom with a groan.

“It’s not coming off,” he says before splashing his face with water.

You follow him and watch as he repeatedly rinses his face. The blood has long come off, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with it. He pours generous amounts of soap on his hands, but there is nothing more to take off there. You wait a few seconds more before joining him. You still his hand with a pressure of his wrist, clean off the remaining soap, and cut off the water. He lets you do it, just as he lets you guide him back to the bed to sit down.

“What happened?” you urge him, keeping his hands in yours. He feels so far away, even if he’s sitting inches from you, and you’re desperate to bring him back to you.

Long seconds go by before he answers you.

“I made a mistake,” he finally says, words pulled out like teeth. “That’s what happened.”

You would tell him that everyone makes mistakes, but you know what’s prompting this. He isn’t everyone. He doesn’t make mistakes. He is Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one in charge of preserving the balance of the world after he’s irremediably altered it simply from being born.

Your hands come up to his face, and you trace his jaw with careful fingers. He closes his eyes. Lets you ground him. He can’t think of anything else he needs more right now.

“You’ve done so much,” you whisper. “I’ve been talking to Shoko — she says that without you, human losses would be much worse.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle.

“That is always true.”

Coming from someone else, it would sound like bragging, but you know that Satoru is only stating a fact. He always saves the day, which makes this so, so much worse. You climb on the bed behind him, start massaging his shoulders. Despite himself, he can’t help but relax into your touch. He doesn’t feel like he deserves that, deserves the comfort you’re bringing to him, and yet, as always, he’s powerless against you.

“But wasn’t the point always that your students would be able to take over?” you ask, softly. “And they did. They saved you. Sounds to me like you did well, Satoru.”

Did he? Sure doesn’t feel like it.

“Hm, I guess Yuji and Megumi did real well tonight,” he admits, and he lets himself lean back into your arms fully. “Just wish… Just wish it hadn’t turned out like that.”

You press a kiss to his temple, and he sighs. He doesn’t think he will be okay again tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either — maybe not before a long time.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’d be nice.”

His eyes follow as you walk back into the bathroom.

“You’ll join me?”

A smile flashes on your face.

“Sure.”

He won’t be okay any time soon, but with you by his side, he thinks he can at least try to get there again someday.

thank you for reading! as a note, gojo's piece is written under the hypothesis that he was unsealed but unsealed before the end of the night. I hope you enjoyed these pieces, please consider reblogging and/or letting me know your thoughts in a comment, interactions are the best way of supporting me and of keeping me writing ^-^

more jujutsu kaisen x reader here (primarily gojo x reader)

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kxllerblond · 2 years ago

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anyway this is Lance and Clark's dynamic thank u gn

#but anyway he's mostly in my head canon and not on here blog canon ig #most of my npcs are like. mmmmm how do i word this #so ykno how in rp it's cool to pick up those found family romantic or otherwise dynamics?#my npcs are kinda just there to fill the gap when i dont have partners that fill those roles ig jdkfbgdg #so with them not being like 'Blog canon' it leaves spots open in clark's life #but also those part of his character and development arent reliant on other ppl as i have npcs that fill in the gaps #if that makes sense #okok ok gonna lurk and send memes mb and game

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 9 months ago

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officer!els<3

author's note - meow i love this woman.

content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!

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- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)

- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.

- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)

- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...

- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...

- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!

- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."

- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.

- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES😧.

- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.

- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:

suggestive/NSFW!

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

- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.

- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)

- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.

- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.

- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-

- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.

bonus round - police!els edit<3 :

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months ago

Text

Fic Finder

Sep 18th

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1. Hi! I don't know if this has been asked before but I'm looking for a fic. It had multiple chapters and might have been mostly from LWJ POV. (spoilers for the fic basically) I only remember clearly that in one of the later chapters it is revealed that WWX took the fall for JC who had set off a cigar fire. Thank you!

FOUND! Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 96k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Inexperienced WWX, Experienced LWJ, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Past Injury, Nurse! WWX, Doctor! LXC, Teacher! LWJ, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor))

NOT FOUND! Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly (E, 201k, wangxian, modern, ABO, Intersex Omegas, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Marriage contract au, Twitch Streamer WWX, fluff and smut, caring for other while sick, Possessive LWJ, Rare Male Omegas, Pack Dynamics, Sugar Baby vibes, Eventual Smut, Brief mention of lwj/others)

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2. hi - apologies if you have answered this and i missed it, or please ignore if i haven't waited long enough! i really appreciate all you guys do! I'm looking for a longish fic - cloud recesses classes WY gets whipped after JZ/JY engagement broken, recovers in CR while creating talismans. Wens attack and WY explodes heads. ACE JZ, badass Madame Jin, NH sets up JY/NM, WY grabbed by WR, LZ comes to save him and they kill WR. I've tried searching hashtags, but just can't find it -can you help? @oldoni

FOUND? 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

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3. Hello Mojo!! I've always used your blog to find missing fics, but this'll be the first time I send in a an ask!!

I read this fic a long time ago and forgot to bookmark it, the premise was Jiang Yanli was engaged to Lan Zhan but she was in love with Jin Zixuan. So Wei Ying, doing what he does best and offers to take her place.

He's invented a talisman that changes his body to look like Yanlis, the catch is that it affects his health everything he uses the talisman until it eventually hurts him to the point of near death. And he falls in love with Lan Zhan along the way.

Can you help me find this fic?

FOUND? 🔒 You Free Your Mind In Your Androgyny by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (E, 368k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyswap, Crossdressing, Dysfunctional Family, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Transphobia, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans WWX)

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4. Hiii there was a fic where wei ying was chased by a dog and took shelter in lan zhans house. i remember wy having a panic attack and lz calming him, and ig he had a cat called bunny?? idk this was on the first chp. and it was a long fic ig?? Anyways hope you can find it!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

FOUND? leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

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5. Hii I am desperately looking for a fic. It is around cloud recess time and wwx is a genuis and gets recognized by the Lans and they treat him well. I remember super specific stuff like there was an elder who blew something up to reroute a river because he needed the water for fire savety and he is kind of mentoring wwx. And some of the elders imply to lwj to court wwx. And there is a kind of scholar equivalent to a discussion converence and the Jiang scholars get so much shit from the Lans for not supporting wwx talent because he is like a once in a generation genius and they usually have systems in place to support people like that but the Jiangs were afraid of madam yu i guess. Thats most of what I remember. I really hope it still exists somewhere... @frankensteins-gendercrisis

FOUND?🔒in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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6. Hi! I'm looking for a f/f wangxian fic, I don't remember much about the plot but I do know in it wwx bullies young lwj and calls her a lesbian. They later meet as adults and wwx is really trying to atone for her actions. Thank you!! @blessrainydays

FOUND? Out of your system by mimilamp (E, 20k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Rule 63, Sexual Content, Strap-Ons, jealous wwx, lan zhan FUCKS, mention of LWJ/others straight girl WWX, Y E A R N I N G, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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7. Hello! Here for the fic finder, please. It starts with Wangxian hunting a monster that eats dreams. At some point it catches lwj and puts him into a dream and wwx goes into the dream and sees that in it they are married? Does that ring any bells?

FOUND? Dream of Me by KingdomFlameVIII (E, 11k, WangXian, Mild Horror, Dreams, Dream Sex, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Light Bondage, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering)

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8. Hi! I'm looking for a modern au where WWX was a fox that had gotten taken to a sanctuary and he had a faded red ribbon around his neck, it fell off and he got sad about it. It possibly had his name written on the inside of it? Wen Ning either ran the santuary or worked there. WWX might've been cursed to be in a fox form? I can't remember for sure. I thought I'd bookmarked it but can't find it and there's a gazillion fox!wwx fics and I'm not finding it. I can't remember more than that but hopefully someone will know. TIA!

NOT FOUND! in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs, Frottage, switch rights, Scent Kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

FOUND! Found: Extremely Friendly Fox by wanderingflame (T, 22k, ZhuiLing, WangXian, Modern AU, mild animal injury, Curses, Fluff, Reunions, Fox WWX, Foxxian being a lovable terror, POV Alternating, Modern With Cultivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ wears reading glasses because it's sexy)

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9. Hi can I ask you if you could find me a fanfiction where Wei wuxian keeps doing different ghost games and Lan Zhan keeps interrupting them, the other thing I can remember is that they're both university students and Lan Zhan is responsible for the dormitory.

FOUND?🔒Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Crack, Light Angst, Humor, Paranormal, horror, Slow Burn)

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10. Hello! Submitting a request to find a fic, cause i'm honestly at my wit's end.

It was multichapter fic and I'm pretty much sure it was finished. It's basically story, where Wei Wuxian transmigrates from modern times into cultivator setting, summoned by mistake, by his counter-part here and basically hijacked their body? And was then promptly attacked by Lan Wangji, who thought it was original

In cultivator setting, Wei Wuxian was also known as a Yilling Laozu - ancient and mad with grief over Lans killing his husband few hundreds years ago. The present Lan Wangji is reincarnation of said husband, but due Yilling Laozu Wei Wuxian not letting him go, he couldn't properly reincarnate or something? Like - he is still man's husband, Lan Wangji, but a little bit different and that stops him from falling in love with YL WWX?

(There was also something about how this Wei Ying was summoned, because Lan Wangji from that universe probably died, before they had a chance to meet.)

Anyway, after getting (i think?) stabbed by Lan Wangji he got taken to Cloud Recess, then he somehow winded up in Lotus Pier, growing close with Jiang siblings. Also, Wei Wuxian from the modern times was some kind of doctor or inventor (?) and he tried bringing some modern solutions there.

I think this think may be quite known, but i tried all the tags i thought that will work and found nothing ://

Thank you very much in advance

FOUND? Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? 🔒 Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don’t worry - he gets better)

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11. for fic finder, i've read this a few times and suddenly i can't find it- wwx gets taken by a caiyi merchant while he's on his way to dinner with lwj. the merchant is someone wwx had previously gotten along with, so it's a bit of a depressing realization that even this guy hates him.

queue a sinister array, a timely rescue by lwj, and the sobering realization that wwx can't fully escape what he's done in his past life, and it can crop up where he least expects it @stgroversfire

FOUND! Before we get started, does anyone wanna get out? by Iggysassou (E, 13k, WangXian, Married Couple, Post-Canon, mdzs canon rather than cql, 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Protective wwx, protective lwj)

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12. Hi! This is for fic finder. I'm looking for a fic where sect leader JC returns to Lotus Pier after a trip/night hunt and the junior disciples all clamour towards him. JC then picks one of the youngest disciples who gives a short report and sends them off for training. I think it might be from the pov of someone who accompanied him (LWJ? LXC?) and then I think there's a bit of commentary about the kind of sect leader JC is. I think it's likely some sort of canon divergence or time travel fic, but not sure. Thanks!

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13. hi, i’m looking for a fanfic in which jzx’s death was faked, he was found in the lake (?) by wwx, i remember people thought wwx was dead but lwj managed to find him alive in some village. lwj told jiang yanli to find wwx and after he found jzx, he was told not to sleep in the same room with jyl as she was married woman and it was inappropriate. this fic wasn’t finished

FOUND? Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

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14. Hi! I’ve been looking for a fic I read a while ago in which WWX designs a talisman (or something) to test blood relationships and finds out he really is JFM’s son. If I remember correctly he’s already left Lotus Pier, I think he finds out with JYL and JC at Cloud Recesses? “This body yet survives” by RoseThorne comes very close but doesn’t have him as JFM’s son. Help please!

I’m pretty sure 14 is a modern era AU and they take a DNA test which reveals the siblings as wwx’s half siblings - can I locate it? Ehhh, of course not unless I get lucky with my history search

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15. I’m looking for a fic that is a modern au, no cultivation, where wwx leaves home or is driven out of his home and loses contact with his sibling and lwj. Fast forward to the future, he’s living somewhere and is with the Wen siblings? I don’t remember how, but somehow lwj finds wwx first, maybe over text? And slowly wwx starts sharing his life again? I feel like maybe wwx had been abused or threatened to never talk to his siblings again. He’s very afraid. I remember Wen Qing was very suspicious of LWJ and protective of wwx. Thanks for your help!

NOT FOUND! clean from the war (your heart fits like a key) by sysrae (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reunions, past xy/wwx, xy is fucked up but not evil because it's a modern AU and I said so, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, past wwx/jfm, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Rape Recovery, transphobic violence, Victim Blaming, Past wwx/others, allusions to past self-harm)

FOUND! Love Don't Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX's canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention)

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16. Hello! Thanks in advance for this. I read ff earlier this year, it was post-canon I guess, Wei Wuxian is staying in cloud recesses and Lan wangji is chief cultivator (I guess). once wwx took juniors to night hunt and he kminda knew that someone will come for him, a walking corpse was searching for him specifically. after empathy wwx got to know that the walking corpse is his father. I dont remember anything other than this scene. Please help! @vbhardwaj-reads

FOUND! An Aftermath More Devastating Than The Storm by UneducatedAuthor (Not Rated, 111k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Everyone Loves WWX, The Junior Ensemble Love WWX, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LSZ, WWX Deserves Better, Genius WWX, WWX Protection Squad, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, JC & WWX Reconciliation) Has Wei Changze as a fierce corpse searching for his son

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17. For fic finder, I remember it was a multichap canon dovergent wangxian fic with inventor wwx. Tho I am not sure if that tag was used. The most notable part of it was Madam Jin bringing evidence of jgs putting his lot in with wrh complete with bills, transactions, correspondences etc. Jgs tries to discredit her by being a misogynist. That's when madam Jin uses a wwx custom binding spell on him and then says "I am a quick study when I want to be" to wwx and then she says "thank you for your instruction" because she learned the spell from jzx who saw wwx teach it to jc in cloud recesses lectures. After that she tells jzx to take the sect leader's seat and there was resistance from jin elders in the same scene and also in other later chapters. It was complete and happy ending I believe for wangxian too @yiling-laozu-is-loml

FOUND? Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

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18. Hey its my first ask so i don't know if I'm doing it right... I've been trying to find two specific fics really hard but no luck yet. I hope you'd be able to help

A) It was a post-sunshot campaign au..I think someone basically heard wwx getting yelled at by jc and flinching away from his touch. That gives rise to rumours that jc is sexually abusing wwx. Everyone starts pitying wwx and it comes to a head at some sort of banquet..?

B) A post-canon wangxian fluff fic. I think it might've been a 5+1 sort of fic but im not sure. There was one particular scene where wwx is just hanging out with other lan spouses and they are all complaining about their husband but wwx is silent cause lwj treats him really well..After he says so one of the women say "how long will it take your husband to realise if I kill you and take your place?" To which wwx replies "like right away"

I really hope you'll be able to find them

18A)

FOUND? Short Prompts by Vrishchika (M, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not JC Friendly, Separate Tags for Each Chapter) chapter 15 I'm sure of it

18B)

FOUND? Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

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19. Hello! I am trying to find a fix where Wei ying get thrown to burial mound by wen Chao as a child, and then he become the protector of Yiling! He is always covered in shadows when he meet the sects! Can anyone remember the title! It is in AoW but I cannot find it! Help please!🙏 Thanks 😊 Have a wonderful day! @fallingstar77

I don't remember the name of #19 fic, but what I do remember is that it's listed on the amazing Warprize compilation you guys did.

FOUND? 💖 what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? Sanctuary by Alineko (T, 45k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Cultivation Sect Politics, Sunshot Campaign, Overpowered WWX, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Unreliable Narrator LWJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Self-Indulgent, Touch-Starved WWX, Different First Meeting, POV Alternating, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags)

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20. Hi, Im looking for a fic that may have been deleted but i'll try here. In it LWJ takes a'yuan away from cloud recesses to raise outside of the sect after WWXs death. He builds a garden with various monuments one of which is a boulder tied down with ropes to represent the Xuanwu. Eventually he senses something and goes to the burial mounds where he drags a reborn WWX from the blood pool. He takes him home to rehabilitate. On the way he stops at an inn to bathe him. Thats all I remember<3

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

134 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 18 days ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎『♡』 Ode to Rue

♡ featuring: pianist!sunday x reader

♡ synopsis: In the dazzling Penacony Grand Theatre, a fallen angel known for his haunting performances captivates you with his music.

♡ wc: 3.3k+

♡ tags: slight angst but mostly fluff, sunday pianist, canon-divergent

notes: I highly recommend you listen to La Solitude during the piano scene. It was my inspiration for the fanfic. its been a while so im a little rusty, pls forgive me :( thank you all! art by snifflesmp4 on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

song link (Spotify): La Solitude

The Penacony Grand Theatre hangs like a thoughtless prayer in the deep expanse of dark and starlight. Gossamer hangs from the bronze halo, tethering the theatre to the sparkling planet it threatens to ascend from. It is just as outstanding, however, covered in stained glass and benevolent sculptures, with a pair of angel wings that rise above the domed roof.

Seeing it up close, you can barely pick up your slacked jaw. Nothing like you’ve seen before, an attraction that stands as the centerpiece of Golden Hour and commands the attention of all who encounter it. You’re reluctant to tear your eyes from the telescope, enraptured by its elegance. Still, residents walk by as though it were the dim alleyways of the Fading Echoes. The muffled voice behind you utters something you don’t quite register. Dainty layers of your cream petticoat brush against the unusually slick concrete, and you push your knees together as you squat to match the angle of the telescope. You can hardly contain your excitement.

Because today would be the day you witness the renowned pianist in action.

The rumors carried itself back to Belobog. You seldom cared for gossip, or the dwindling appeal to venture away from your warm manor into the bitter cold. But even the maids began to wonder.

The talebearer tended to the kitchen as she spoke. A nameless angel, who must have descended from heaven, had been driven to madness by a catastrophe so devastating he could not prevail against it. Caught in the midst of a dying planet, he turned to music to expel the torture wracking his shattered mind. She claimed to have seen it, the room of the pianist. Walls etched with forgone prayer, a rushed and messy verbal overflow. There were said to be crosses methodically placed around those prayers, with sickening, glowering eyes that seemed to judge your every waking move. Music sheets haphazardly scattered with compositions he’d never finish, scores that could never be.

Penacony, the planet of festivities, home to the Charmony festival. It made your eyes roll to indulge in such frivolous matters. On either end, you had no one to accompany you, and so you never attended. But the prospect of witnessing his madness in action piqued your interest, and ever since you’d been calling the theatre, hopeful for a reservation.

The angel was unpredictable, though, sometimes choosing to cancel at the minute of his expected arrival. He was not without criticism, some enraged at his pure disregard towards the audience. After each show, he disappeared behind the curtain and left without a trace. Others said he appeared to loathe the very thought of being onstage. It made you all the more interested. To have such varying perceptions meant he had a gift far greater. To hear his genius was the highest privilege.

A gentle chorus whispers from the hypnotic depths of the arena. “My lady.” You turn your head to face the voice, yet your eyes remain glued to the lens, as if the music will cease to exist should you avert your gaze.

“The show will start soon.”

You’ve taken your plush seat front row, beyond the crimson portiere and into the theatre. The seats are occupied by impatient, rather loud elite. Pocket watches and monocles, ridiculous top hats that earned a soft snort under your breath. Their attire wasn’t made for a place such as this, but you couldn’t say much yourself. It is more akin to a house of prayer than an outlet simply for singing. Decorative columns with lavish scripture rose to the ceiling where they came together at the corners to form the shape of a sun. Your eyes trail up, to the embossed medallion art of flying doves chasing the never-ending cycle of day. In the middle, an opulent chandelier dangles thousands of twinkling diamonds and dimly lit wax candles.

“Marvelous” you gasp, panning to the stage before you. Rows of long, bronze organ pipes line the back wall, framing the massive stage. A divine glow peaks from behind the curtain, spearing slivers of warm, glimmering light.

This space is incomparable to any opera house you’ve attended in Belobog. You feel unworthy to speak above a whisper. It’s almost sacred, crawling with benevolent structures and hymns you couldn’t decipher. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to decipher—meant to find you instead.

You’re restless with anticipation bouncing around in your churning stomach. Its halls play a generic tune as more are seated. A million questions run through your mind. Who was he? Were the rumors true? What horrors did he see? Who was his teacher? You weren’t afforded the smallest of glimpses. Even the gaudy posters promoting the show didn’t show his face, choosing to represent him with a pair of angel wings. He must’ve declined a photo shoot. A pianist…who hated the piano? Or maybe it was the lack of tact, or genuine appreciation for the music. The pictures that received more attention for the scarcity of the show than for the soul of the symphony.

You’re fiddling with your gown when suddenly the lights fizzle out, leaving only the meager glow of the chandelier above. Hitches, then nothing. A silent audience in the wake of a brighter stage. It reflects in your eyes, an unshakable longing reaching just behind the curtain. The same pit you felt, at the foot of a frosted cathedral on your last shred of hope; the deadly hands of a loving Aeon.

The tableau, adorned in gold trimmings and tassels, begins to waver, and your breath tugs like molten iron in your chest. It begins to scale upwards into the cornice board, offering sight to the set.

A simple, black piano with a stool to match takes center stage. You hear an audible sigh. A snicker. You wait, glossy eyed, infatuated by the sight. It’s truly barebones, no ball peonies or accompanying ensemble. Everything he needs awaits him. Everything he has exists on that stage.

The spotlight casts onto the piano, spurring dust particles.

The right curtain moves slightly. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have noticed the hooded angel come into view. It’s eerily quiet as the audience is hushed quickly in his presence. A few vague murmurs here and there, but nothing more. Hardly the footsteps of the angel, stepping in airy, elegant movements across the stage. Had you closed your eyes, it’d be lost to the background.

He’s burdened by a navy hood, draped across the expanse of his laden shoulders. You can’t remove your eyes from the hovering blessing bobbing behind his head between movements. Black gloves embellished with gold and silver rings arranged so they wouldn’t clink. He walked with professionalism unexpected of just a pianist. The cloak seldom flared by his stride, though when it did, you caught the dark patterns of his boots, a garter taught on his thigh. The faintest strands of grayish blue peak from under the hood, soft and silky.

One foot after the other, silent and orderly—comfortable with being invisible.

As expected, he doesn’t regard the crowd. He smooths his cloak under his thighs and takes his seat in front of the piano. The minute details surrounding him worked with intent. A calculated click to his side releases a book with intricate detail, similar to his halo, with an eye on the back cover. A songbook? Notes? You can’t tell. However, the moment he places it on the rack, it fans open on its own. The front cover slams against the piano, and you’re stunned to see the pages flicking wildly, a mild radiance on the edges. The sound of paper fills the air. Then it stops.

He brings his slender fingers to his hood, and in one fell swoop, the fabric slips away.

The empyrean feathers of once cowered wings unfurl at the taste of newfound space. Broad, downy wings extend like a stretch, as if preparing to fly. The canary-colored spotlight enacts a seraphic air onto the pianist. Half of his face is lost to obscurity, but you still study his perfect ivory skin, drawn to subtle pinkish hues near his eyes and downturned lips. His hair spills over his shoulders, meeting with fluffy wings now comfortable on his sides. He wore an expression both content and lost, a soul far removed from the scene before it.

Suchlike a painting you think. Whether it be the growing swell in your heart or unforeseen heat, his presence itself was breathtaking. You’ve seen art reminiscent of this in the Everwinter City Museum, oil paintings of angels in effortless beauty. Divinity just out of reach.

His long lashes flutter for a second, and you watch his chest heave deep before expelling an extended breath. You hold yours.

His eyes close. The audience goes deafeningly silent.

He starts. Near machine with zero hesitation, a graceful melody waltzes to the keys summoned by lissome hands. Sweet, airy in tune as it graces the walls of the opera house.

It evokes a childlike dream. Carefree summers, a vacation with no winter, planets with no struggle. You marvel the way his wrists roll over the keys. Refined, fluid, but commanding. Deserving of honor. His expression never changes, but his eyes—stirring with vibrance, like he was coaxing notes from the harmony itself. Captured by song, weaving a tapestry of forgotten memories.

Still, there’s a harsh end to them, a teetering peak that keeps you on edge. Pads confidently moving under the swift turns of the music. The piano seems to come alive on its own, unbroken as the emotion pours from his veins to the object. Each high point, a reminder of a dream's eventual death, a memory lost to the throes of time.

Suddenly, the deep clashing of the piano raises the hairs on your skin. He slams with graceful power, a note that should be out of place. It sends shivers up your spine.

Your mind is heavy. You feel it in every sense of the melody. In the crooks of your walls, buried in the cracks where no one could see it but you. You saw him, filling your world and becoming of nothing. The knot that crumpled in your throat at the gravestones of your family, or the corners of the home you became accustomed to as you isolated yourself from the world. The tears you rarely shed for the sake of your family name, only allowing them to fall when a blizzard hammered against the windows loud enough to subdue your wails. Desperate for the kind words of anyone who’d spare a glance. You’ve tasted it countless times. A pitiful, bitter drink.

Inexplainable, profound sorrow.

He’s faced it, too. His wings appear stiff, flared and fire-scorn. Taut with the tension in his fingers. Alone and forgotten, dancing across the piano with such aloofness, shouldering the weight of the notes. A pause in between, and you shifted to the edge of your seat unconsciously. His fingers were methodical, searching for an answer he hadn’t fully discovered, finding belonging on the notes. This was his signature way of scribbling. There was no fated wall or room of eyes, nor the frantic manifestos of a madman. The piano was his journal—seeking meaning in the music.

You aren’t sure what draws you to him. If it’s the chaos of his song, the unnerving focus, breathing in the melody for a second time. Wrapping himself in a sound of pure calamity, and somehow looking beatific and at peace, as if whatever he’d given up on was already somewhere underwater, out of reach and destined to drown.

You understood now, why the audience was the most insignificant part of the performance. He played for no one. It was a a prayer to the choir, the last crumbling wish of a fallen angel.

The crescendos landed harsh, unfinished, dying brutally in your ears. Tortured overtones ran soft, unexpected and fleeting before another crash. War across the keys, fighting a battle he wouldn’t win. On the piano there was bloodshed. And in this moment, he shares that war with you. Your eyes swelled before you could notice, splitting goosebumps across your skin.

He throws his head back, letting his wings droop as he plays. Trailing his digits from the highest octave to the lowest, slowly closing his eyes once again. His posture reads of a Greek tragedy—falling from the sky, allowing fate to capture him or embrace the awaiting darkness. Was there anything left for an angel forsaken by an Aeon? Who could the fallen turn to for comfort?

There’s a pit in your stomach.

He throws both hands on the keys for the final crest, a booming sound sending vibrations through the floor. A dreams end.

Then it’s quiet.

His head returns to its rightful place, hanging low past his shoulders. Poised hands slump away from the piano, and the book closes to mimic.

Hood coming up over his head in the aftermath, and he slumped away from the piano.

He takes the book and tucks it back on his side. He stands, and the audience erupts into cheers. He flinches at the sudden noise. Pulling his hood over his head, he uses his fluffy wings to shield his face. Whistling, praises, and pleads for an encore can be heard from the whole interior. You barely hear it, muffled to the chatter around you.

Because you’re sobbing. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision, resemblant to a small child with a scraped knee. In this noise, no one can hear you cry. It didn’t matter anymore, reputation or not. You needed to cry.

But you swear you see it; a single tear trailing down his cheek, below his pouty lips, dropping with a shimmer. It couldn’t be a trick of the light. You find yourself staring past his wings. His eyes were Baltic amber, spiced honey with warm hints of midnight brilliance. Your heart skipped a beat.

He steps away from the spotlight and exits just as fast, to the tragic dismay of an applauding crowd.

He was but a stranger. Gone as he was, gone as you knew he’d be, your mind rejected it. A ridiculous impulse tests your restless legs, pushing you up out of your seat.

You needed to know something, anything about him.

His name.

You’re on your feet quick, barely picking up your dress as you skip steps towards the hallway. The gem encrusted hair pin securing your updo slips to the floor when you whip your head towards the back exit. You don’t bother to go back for it. A hairpin was replaceable; this is a once in a lifetime opening.

Pushing the exit, a fit of cold graces your shoulders. You forgot your coat in the theatre. It may be cold, but it’s not Belobog. You keep running around the end of the building, skirts picking up in the wind, a cool breeze biting your tear-stained cheeks. You stop in your tracks.

A small boy with a head full of hair looks up at the man with a halo. You watch as the black gloves you studied carefully hand a stack of coins to the child. He flashes a gapped tooth smile, and the hand interlaces through his hair, ruffling it.

You approach steadily. You’re clammy now. Struck with the chance, you can't formulate a string of words to save your life. The conversation shifts into focus.

“Run along, now. It’s getting late” he says. That glacé, somber cadence stops you in your tracks. A voice befitting for an angel. The sentences elude you. You’d forgotten what you came to say. Aeon's help you.

The child skips away, and you’re trained on him until your eyes snap back to the man now observing you. His eyes. On you.

“Oh…um, sorry…” You can’t maintain the gaze imparted onto you. It’s much more intense without hundreds of eyes doing the same, even with his face somewhat obscured.

“My apologies miss, was I too loud?” He asks with a courteous hand to his heart, tender voice sticking to your brain like thick pools of honey.

You shake your head wildly “Ah, no! I’m sorry,” you hesitate, unsure if you should divulge your recent attendance. Granted, you understood how weird it may come across to search for the performer post-show, but it was too late for you to retreat. “I was just at your performance.”

“Ah…” He pans to the floor, lashes fluttering underneath the street lamp. This version of the pianist is unsure, a confidence reserved for the stage. Then he regards you for a second, unmoving. “Was it enjoyable?”

Enjoyable…that wasn’t it. It was suffering, a beautiful torture for those who’ve survived hell. You have to physically bite back to words, and yet they pour out of you.

“It was lonely” you blurt, rubbing your arm to soothe your awkward disposition.

His eyes widen briefly. You watch his flushed lips part and close. He felt human again. He, too, could be lost for words. When he doesn’t speak, you continue.

“I am also…”

“…going through things.” His earrings dangle in the wind, and you feel like a fool right about now for wasting his time. You manage to look everywhere but his face. Two studs on his left wing and lustrous curls meeting around his neck near a thorny choker. Such beauty should be forbidden.

“The only way to go is forward. I hope you will do the same” he lilts. You gaze into his eyes.

“Have you uncovered…what you’re searching for?”

He pauses a long while, wind picking up in the space between you. You aren’t sure if he recognizes that he’s touching his book cover. “Not yet. There is a long journey ahead of me, lined with plenty more mistakes. But I’ve been given a second chance. I will do what I’ve set out to do.”

It’s an answer enough for you. You nod, leading into a half-curtsy. He interrupts, “May I ask you…is there something you found within my music?”

You aren’t sure. It could’ve been nothing at all. Or maybe the winter snow was worth treading, if it met unlatching from those hopeless shackles. “I don’t know. I think I’d have to find it within myself first.”

His eyes crinkle and his lips curve into a cloying smile. The gentle undertones in his face burn rosy tonight, resembling a blooming carnation. “That’s a great answer.”

Heat creeps upon your ears, and you look away, a slight crack in your throat. “I’m assuming you won’t play again, then? Since, your journey…”

“Yes. That is correct.”

Sad but not surprised, you’re grateful for this opportunity alone. “Alright, then”, you clasp your hands together, “May the Aeon’s guide you to safe planets and safer skies.”

“You, as well” he smiles. You toy with your fingers, ashamed to ask for extra beyond this.

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind?”

“Sunday.” An odd name. So odd you believe it to be a lie. Nevertheless, you accept it.

“Okay. Goodbye, Sunday.” You return a grin before turning on your heels.

“Goodbye.”

You’re walking back, but footsteps are coming towards you. When you look, a royal blue tweed restricts your eyesight. It binds you, heavy and warm to stave off the chill. Sunday puts the cloak over your body. He’s inches away from you, securing the tie near your neck. The light peaks behind his halo, streaks of gold aside the night kissing his delicate features. You feel his breath on your frosted nose, hot despite the air. He smells of salt and sugary pudding. Thankfully, the weather prevents your blush from being too obvious.

“And do be careful tonight. It’s rather cold…” his voice trails off, waiting for you to catch the hint.

“Oh! I-it’s (Y/N).”

“It’s rather cold, (Y/N)” he puts an emphasis on your name. Each syllable, smooth and undeniably gratifying from his lips. He pulls the hood over, a finger ghosting against your cheek as he retreats. “Sweet dreams.”

He leaves this time, never looking back.

The ill-fitted garment about your shoulders. Heavy on your heart like a stone. You breathe into it. Salt and toffee pudding. Something blooms in its barren embrace.

Pleasant, snug and all encompassing. Yet bittersweet. A final farewell to no destination.

A hug. A hug is what it was.

#hsr x you #hsr x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #hiii sunday louder than everyone else

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tadc-harlequin-au · 3 months ago

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I’ve been having this question for a while now and I suppose it’s not the most important but I can’t get it out of my head- is the world like earth? Were there areas/continents more impoverished say than the main area that everything is taking place in- areas that don’t have as much technology I mean, maybe not even puppets. Knowing humanity I wouldn’t put it past that there were villages and uncontacted tribes out there- before the fall I mean and all humanity got wiped out. Ig what I’m trying to get at is if the world just became a giant monoculture or if there was still different collections of people doing things they’re own way. (Sorr if this is a really weird thing to ask)

No no, you're fine. Funny enough, a while back, I was thinking about some rough drafts of literal worldbuilding for the harlequin au, and while this absolutely isn't final (it's TOO small), it does help me establish some rules for what I want this world to be.

It is a giant monoculture-esque/ethnocentric setting, yeah.

The world is NOT Earth. There are similarities yes, but it is significantly smaller than regular earth.

Some areas, lands, or archipelagos are even uninhabitable due to mostly environmental and a strangely paranormal(?) reasoning. Any attempts to expand beyond results in monumental losses whether resourcefully, financially, or just straight up casualties/no one returning ever. They don't have the necessary technology to be able to actually overcome this hurdle, so they cut their losses for now (that was the plan before everyone died that is lol).

That doesn't mean they don't try to harvest whatever resource they can that's in reach. Because they totally would.

The world would be fashioned like a giant cog; leaders say the cog symbolizes unity amongst the cities, and also marks the steady progress of everyone towards "The Future", as a cog helps keep a machine running. Very ironic, considering what state this world is in today.

Yes, I made City of Gears canon from Scarlet's story, I will not hear any objections /lh

The cities are HUMONGOUS. There are a total of 7 Megacities, all connected via giant bridges.

There are large docks for expeditions ALL over the edges of the cog. Planes are very, VERY less popular to use as mode of transport.

But you know what is popular? SKYBRIDGESSSSSSSSSSS BABYYYY

What's a skybridge? Think of "the floating train" + Skylines from Bioshock: Infinite's concepts, but it also spans THE ENTIRE WORLD.

Now, obviously you can smell that a well-hidden dystopian world like this has a lot of systemic corruption in place such as absolutist thinking, stereotyping, outdated societal "norms" and intense class oppression to name a few. I will not be delving incredibly deep into how shitty the old world was for three reasons:

For the sake of my sanity;

Out of respect because I'm severely uninformed and do not actually have the biggest brain nor all the time in the world to research; and

This old world is already gone anyways. There is no need to pick it apart piece by piece in incredible detail, because that's not the main focus of the story anyways. The main focus is how would everyone conform into their new lives, essentially a new beginning for everything?

As such, anything story-related will only be implied through the main cast. Besides, I'm clearly not the only one who's got a lot of ideas for this au, so as long as it's within the realm of possibility, I encourage people to worldbuild if they have ocs for this au, as well as if they so desire. Whether simply implied or directly referenced, go ahead. :)

P.S. some things may be added in the future.

#thanks for the ask!#tadc #tadc au #tadc harlequin au #harlequin au #the amazing digital circus #fantasy worldbuilding #worldbuilding

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kutputli · 2 months ago

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"apparently i never learn that on this site if i head into an actor of colour’s tag i will see sooooo many photos of their most famous white co-worker" this is too real esp with assad zaman because why the hell is every other post about eric?? anything he posts on IG is connected to that man, anything he says is connected to that man......like wth

My friend @chaoswillcalmusdown posted that, I think? I suspect she was talking about The Bear fandom, but who knows. It unfortunately applies to almost every white dominated fandom.

I don't really pay attention to RPF discussions (no judgement on the fandom, just not my thing) but I have seen the skewed nature of how actors of colour are paid attention to mostly in service of of preferred white co-actors.

It makes me think about the additional burden on actors of colour. TV and episodic video storytelling carries a complicated ownership of character - unlike a novel, or even a film, the primary knowledge of a character does not belong to one writer creating a preexisting canon. In TV there are multiple writers, and often what the actor brings to the character rises to the forefront of the shared characterisation, and gets incorporated into the continued writing. And yet at the same time we've seen takes from actors in interviews that clearly contradict the writing of the character. So you can't always treat an actor's viewpoint as authoritative.

When it comes to characters of colour who are being written by a largely white authorship, but played by an actor of colour, so much more burden of authenticity is placed on what the actor can bring to the character by virtue of their lived experience. And yet, they are ACTORS, who are creating the character, not just performing themselves.

People seem to forget what a craftsman Assad is. His enthusiasm for working with Eric comes, it feels to me, from a young and passionate actor eager to delve into intense, challenging scene work with an experienced scene partner who can push him to greater depths of craft. But no one seems to be talking about what other layers of craft Assad could bring. What work he could do if he was given more scenes with other actors of colour.

Regardless of what your opinion of the Armand/Louis ship might be, it was rivetting to watch Assad and Jacob work together, and I would love to see more of that. Why are people not talking about that more? My one-person campaign to incorporate Real Rashid into the Dubai trio aside, what interesting craft discussions might Bally Gill and Assad have had, given that they are both friends who have been South Asian theatre actors finding their way in the British performance industry?

Assad is drop dead gorgeous, yes, and his public persona at least comes across as charming, humble and endearingly enthusiastic. He seems to enjoy the narrative he is part of, which is why his comments about the forthcoming Devil's Minion arc are so enjoyable, sure.

But he's a fucking rigourous, dedicated craftsman doing some admirably difficult labour - I wish people would pay more attention to the actor that he is.

#interview with the vampire #answered asks #assad zaman #my meta #iwtv #armand iwtv

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thecoolerliauditore · 1 month ago

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opinions on pearlscar?

first off an apology because being disappointed back to back by two series I was very excited for and following in real time did something very strange to me interest-wise and i've fallen back into being into league and my language has started reflecting that with league terms being reintegrated back into my vocabulary.

so anyway in league (and im sure a lot of other games but ive mostly heard it w/ league) "sleeper OP" means a character who is overpowered but not many people are aware OR people are aware but forget. In other words it's being "slept on" hence sleeper OP.

pearlscar is the sleeper OP ship of the life series. people either 1. are aware that it is peak (even people who don't necessarily ship them ive noticed tend to lean towards "can see it") but don't focus on it as a ship for one reason or another or 2. are unaware of it because people don't make enough noise.

for me personally i adore any ship that involves characters with parallels and well. vaguely gestures towards LL Scar and DL Pearl and their respective partnerships with Grian and Scott. Scar encouraging Pearl's destructive tendencies in DL by recommending powdered snow, although cruel, read to me as a sign of sympathy that no one else really gave Pearl that season. They are very similar people at the end of the day (the villain to their enemies, a loose canon to their "allies" and deeply lonely with a yearning for friendship above all else).

And because they are similar people, they can very easily slot into what eachother need that they're constantly looking for elsewhere with Grian and Scott. Or at least, I think they would.

they also just? idk they make sense in my head as an endgame ship, not that those will ever really exist (except for jizzie ig lmao). I've held this thought forever but it peaked during the SL finale -- probably the biggest showcase of why I love them together so much -- although part of me didn't really fully subscribe to it just cus with gempearl also being a big heavy hitter to my frontal lobe that season it made it feel alot like idk. one of those old anime that was yuri the whole way through but then the mc leaves her gf to die and marries a man and it's all melancholic and upsetting but bittersweet. here have this post in my drafts I made at the time that came out that I was too afraid to post lmao

although ig with WL being as disappointing as it was to me that I've sort of decanonized it in my personal headspace they are as endgame as it gets lol

all that aside just. yeah. two lonely goofy people who find happiness in eachother. and get to be goofy and fun together. thumbs up. also that elven kiss clip was really cute but we all know this

#asks

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lowkeyrobin · 7 months ago

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Fourth grade younger sibling reader who gets into a fight at school and basically goes straight to the skate shop because the reader needs their brother and is so upset and the gang all comfort him talking shit about the dudes that beat reader up!!

-♣️

YESYESYESYESYESYES DNNSNSS ilysm ♣️ u need to pop in my inbox more

FOURTHGRADE ; aneurysm

summary ; your older brother, a boy with little common sense, uses his final braincell for good

warnings ; language, censored racial slur, physical fighting

disclaimers ; reader & fg are siblings/sibling figures to each other (whichever you choose, it doesn't matter that much) ; reader calls fg Ryder (his real name as were gonna say) (they don't have canon names and I'm not making one up so I'm just using their actors names) ; reader is about rubens age (13/14 so like middle school ig)

track ; aneurysm, nirvana

word count ; 966

masterlist

You sprint down the sidewalk, dried blood still stained upon the top of your lip. Your throat is cold as you heave your chest up and down for air, your lungs begging you to stop running. You were in no kind of danger now, only infuriated and scared of what had happened to you.

Essentially, you got jumped while walking to your bus after school.

You ran as fast as your legs could take you, hoping that Ryder would be at Motorz with his other friends. If not, you had nowhere else to go.

You pull the front door open with much more force than needed and quickly look around as your brain pounds inside your head. Fuckshit is the first to lay eyes on you, which slightly widen as he looks you up and down.

"Damn n****! Fuck happened to you?" He asks, then turns to the corner where the two couches sit, "Yo, Fourthgrade, Y/n's looking for you"

You walk back to the corner behind the racks of shirts while Ryder's head pops up from his camera. His eyes clearly widen as he sees the blood trailing down your face, staining your grey shirt.

You look at him with crazed eyes, showing him fear and anger. He quickly stands up and stands over you as he tilts your head up to get a better look at your face, fingers resting under your chin.

"Shit, what happened?"

"I got jumped." You say with a flat tone, tossing your backpack down on the floor next to the box TV. You look back at the door, hoping not to see the kids who jumped you minutes earlier waiting for you outside. Thankfully, the coast was clear.

He drags you to the back and grabs a towel, soaking it with cool water. He hands it to you, instructing to wash off all the blood from your face while using the mirror above the sink. He leaves the room for a moment, grabbing some bandages, alcohol and cotton pads from the first-aid kit that sat next to the back door.

You toss the towel in the sink and sit on the ledge as you wait for him. You look at your left elbow, seeing it scraped and bleeding a bit from when you first hit the concrete.

He walks back in, his arms filled with first-aid supplies.

"Run that shit back, what do you mean got jumped walking to the bus?" Fuckshit says, flopping down on the couch in front of you.

You sit on the floor, your feet perched up on Fourthgrade's skateboard, sliding it side to side.

"These assholes have been picking on me for literally ever, and I made a comment in class that kinda referred to them being assholes. I was walking to the bus after school, and they just jumped me and shit." You shrug, head hung low. The bruise over your eye was becoming more apparent.

Fourthgrade shares a saddened look with the other boys, mostly Fuckshit and Ray, silently asking what he should do for you. They both shrug.

"Who- What do they look like?" The cinephiliac asks, fidgeting with the camera in his hand.

"You're not fighting a bunch of 14 year olds for me" You deadpan at him, your head tilted to the right a bit. "Forget it"

"Oh, I'm not fighting them for you" He shrugs, looking over to Ruben. "He will"

"Huh?"

"I will?"

You and Ruben quietly follow your bullies down the halls and outside the school at the end of school on Monday. You share a look while you hold Ryder's camera, keeping quiet as you spoke so they wouldn't hear you as you reach the exit doors.

"What else did they do to you?" Ruben asks, glancing at your bruised eye.

You shrug, "Y'know, subtle bullying shit. Making fun of me, talking shit about me, threatening to fight me, stuff like that"

He nods, turning as they do, catching the eyes of Ray, Fuckshit and Fourthgrade as they walk down toward the middle school, awaiting to meet up with you. Ruben shakes his head, nearly sighing.

"Why'd I fuckin' agree to this?"

You shrug again, "Your answer's as good 's mine"

You flick the camera on as he hands you his backpack, preparing to jump the three kids as the older teens follow close behind you, picking up the pace. You were still surprised that Fourthgrade, the boy who lacked common sense, came up with this whole plan. Ray definitely cleared up some confusion and deserved credit, but Fourthgrade was really the director of this film.

You look behind you at the three teens who nod, then Ruben quickly runs up to the third-wheel looking friend, pulling him in a chokehold. The other two don't notice for a moment until they hear their friend choking and gasping for air, his fingers clawing at Ruben's arm. You pull the camera up, filming as the Hispanic boy attacks the three bullies.

He releases the first from the chokehold, knowing the little ginger would run over helping his friends. The other two turn around and lunge at him as the older teens cheer him on. Ruben is able to put one kid in a headlock and use his free legs to his ability, kicking the other in the dick.

Behind the camera, you cheer him on as well, laughing as your bullies try to fight back. Surprisingly, he was really strong for some wannabe gangster fourteen year old.

"Beat his ass, bro!"

"Kick his balls again!"

"Get him, get him!"

"Go Ruben!"

You turn to look at Fourthgrade, his camera still recording. You send him a smile and mouth a thank you, which he nods in response, his lips curling into a smile as well.

"You're welcome"

#lowkeyrobin #mid90s imagine #fourthgrade mid90s #mid90s x reader #fourthgrade x reader #fourthgrade #ryder mclaughlin x reader #ryder mclaughlin #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn! reader #mid90s x gn reader #mid90s #a24 #♣️ anon

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g0ld1el0cks · 2 months ago

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Character study art I did ig. I was trying to not down my head canons for him. This is kinda old so some head canons may have changed but mostly not

#art #character art #redesign #ibispaint art #digital arwork #drawing #creepypasta redesign #creepypasta art #creepypasta #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta au #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta eyeless jack #eyeless jack #eyeless jack creepypasta #eyeless jack art

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stevengrantshubby · 4 days ago

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here are some of my initial hopes/thoughts/delulu predictions about MelJayVik dynamic in the 2nd season. It's very MelJayVik centric and doesnt fully go into how it would have connected to the wider Piltover vs Zaun plot, or CaitVi, or Vi and Jinx.

~ x ~

so i thought that mel was the one who was going to be down after the attack on the council. i did believe that she had some kind of magic but that she was unaware of it, so while it would protect her i didn't think it would have been enough and that she still would have been seriously injured.

i thought that viktor would have been injured but not as badly as he was in canon, i thought that the hexcore leg or something would have done...something to not leave him on deaths door. jayce would have been mostly fine.

this, in my mind, would have led to them using the hexcore on mel. and that would lead to some kind of internal struggle within mel between the hexcore magic (seriously i think it had a mind of its own) and mel's own internal magic. now, somehow, this would bring hexcore!mel and viktor closer, the specifics changed every time i had a stray thought but def something drawing them together. something about the fact that the hexcore had been used on both of them would have something to do with it.

viktor in my head was like curious cause hexcore!mel is a bit different, not wholly, but different (also i believed that viktor and mel have known/were aware of each other previously technically speaking jayce is the 'new guy'). he doesnt know if its just natural changes ppl go through, he didnt know her as well as he thought (not that he knew her super well), or if its the hexcore doing something to her. This would, somehow, connect to hexcore herald or something (idk anything about lol lore)

in my head jayce had a bit of a backslid. harkening back to when he yelled at viktor about his trip to zaun and called 'them' dangerous. i dont think hed be gun-ho on the warpath, but a back peddle on zaun's freedom (ig that would have happened regardless) and more... amenable to hex weapons.

how would we get there? i dunno. how would this have worked with ambessa? i dunno! i did imagine this ending with them separated at the end tho.

but yeah...thats what i thought was going to happen. most of my disjointed thoughts.

#arcane #mel medarda #jayce talis #viktor #viktor arcane #melvik #meljayvik #//ill tag both cause i think its related to both in separate ways but...yknow whatever lol #walkin talkin

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feukt-42 · 3 months ago

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Yet another post about Leda

You know, its kind of funny, but I've been browsing ER fanfics and fancontent almost daily for a while now (pls help), and one thing I've noticed is that a lot of people just. do not want. to put Leda and the gang in their fanfics. The most out of all Miquella's followers I found was Ansbach with 68 fics on Ao3. Leda herself comes at second with 48 fics and the others just kind of fizzle out after that. By comparison, Messmer, another DLC character, already has 500 fics.

Now, I know that this in large part due to the Messmer horny. But still. There's been 1,372 fics released in the ER tag since the DLC released as of me writing this. That doesn't really explain it. A good explanation might be that souls fans like to dwell on the pre-canon lore era we don't get to see, but even then, I remain disappointed by the lack of Leda in those fics as well. I have read several Haligtree-or-adjacent-focused fics written post SotE and few of them feature Leda or the needle knights, which is honestly a shame because Miquella having his own order of knights (almost counterbalance to the cleanrots), is a very interesting idea, and I am starving for Leda interacting with literally any member of that cast, her whole deal is just so interesting. And its not like Miquella doesn't care about her and she's just a weird fanboy, he gave her a wholeass rune and shit.

"But OP," you might be asking, "why dont you just write your own fic then ?". And you see, that is an excellent point, but I am unfortunately a coward with no confidence in my writing skills. So instead, I decide to make this.

I hereby present :

My Leda facts/analysis/interpretation/theories collection !

I am making this mostly to gush about Leda to spark interest in her as a character and maybe give interested writers who have actual skill to use this to get some inspiration. By no means am I suggesting that this is a guide everyone should follow, this is mostly just my inane ramblings about a character i am obsessed with. Still, if it helps someone make something, that's a net positive in my book.

without further ado, let's get into it.

Part 1 : Miscellaneous Facts

Fact number 1 : Leda doesn't see grace (at least her character model implies so):

I don't remember where it was, but I remember seeing a post that had every SotE NPC's eye colour in it. And a cool thing about that was that only a few characters didn't have the grace of gold in their eyes. And I remember specifically getting to Leda, noble knight of Miquella, and finding out that her eyes do not have a single trace of gold in them. They are grey with a blood-red clouding.

And I just found that so interesting it made me make this post, because what does it mean ? How did she lose it ? Did she ever have it in the 1st place ? Some of you might be thinking it's because she follows Miquella and not the GO, but the funny part is that, again, most of the others have it !

Hornsent has it, Ansbach has it, Freyja has it, Ymir has it, Moore has it, even the fucking madding hand has it. So why doesnt Leda ? (this also goes for some of the other NPCs who don't have it but im not spinning them in my head like a microwave so too bad ig)

Fact number 2 : She definitely killed the other needle knights

Ok so I already talked about this somewhere but I don't remember where so let's just start over from the beginning. The description of the Retaliatory Crossed-Tree states there were once more Needle Knights but now there's only one left. Meanwhile, Leda's sword says it "still reeks with the stench of crusted blood that lingers from the cull of her knightly comrades". Love myself a good "can't wash away the blood" trope.

Anyways, I took those two facts together to mean that she killed the other Needle Knights and talked about it in that alleged prior conversation I mentioned, but someone else replied that her "knightly comrades" could very well mean Hornsent and Ansbach, whom she attempts to cull before you reach Enir-Ilim. And I wanted to disagree with that, but I didn't actually have any evidence except "it's funnier this way" so you know, fair's fair. Except ! No it isn't !

When you help kill Hornsent, she says this :

He never placed his full trust in me, even under the effect of Kindly Miquella's spell. He must've recognised something. The scent of the killer that slept within me. The stench of crusted blood.

Mind you, this is before killing Ansbach, and right after killing Hornsent. The crusted blood from the cull of her comrades cannot be theirs, meaning Leda did kill the other NKs.

Fact number 3 : She deadass just smells like blood the whole time we see her

As just stated, we have 2 items describing how Leda just smells like dried blood. This has endless comedic potential imo, hear me out :

You first meet this dignified, knightly woman in Mohgs arena. You don't notice anything wrong with her smell, because of course it smells like blood in here, have you seen the place ?

The next time you meet her is in Scadu Altus. You begin to think something does smell really bad here. It's still not her however, because the Hornsent and his canonically shitstained loincloth are standing like 10 meters away from you, likely overpowering the scent.

You only get to realize its her constantly smelling like blood after the charm is broken and Hornsent leaves, and that coincides perfectly with the reveal that she's just paranoid as fuck.

10/10 olfactive storytelling. I mostly just put this fact here in honor of that Bloodborne bosses ranked by smell post tbh, that shit lives rent-free in my brain.

Character analysis time ! This bit is more given to interpretation so feel free to disagree on this :

Shes really not that bloodthirsty you guys

Alright, so this one might be a bit surprising given we just went over the fact she smells like blood, but the popular interpretation of Leda doing this because she likes killing and shit is just dead wrong to me. I spoke about it before, but there are so many lines of dialogue that suggest otherwise. Hell, even the sword description says she tried her damnedest to get the blood to come off. Here are some of the most telling lines i found (from fextralife/the github with all the text from SotE) :

-Her describing herself as a "killer" in that line about hornsent and crusted blood earlier, she seems to be very blunt and honest about what she does, almost to a self-deprecating point.

-I know I shouldn't let myself... But I suppose it's only natural to feel the weight of one's deeds at times like these. There is plenty left to be done. And I will see to it. <- what else do i even add here

-I don't enjoy casting suspicion on anyone I've called a comrade. But it's a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. We must eradicate all doubt...

-None can deny Sir Ansbach was truly a great man. We can be proud, that we were the last opponents he ever faced.

-Sir Ansbach must have considered it an honourable end, being felled by your hand. After all, the good fellow held you in the highest regard. When we speak of it, we may speak with pride—that we were Sir Ansbach's final adversaries

Those lines seem to be alternate versions of the dialogue you get after helping her kill Ansbach. And oh my fucking goodness gracious, i fucking love the second one. Like ghhhhhh, the grief for a comrade and the guilt and the self-justification and the need to move forward and theres somehow even more blood on her sword that she can't ever wash off but she can't stop here, she has to keep doing this because its not about her for her, its not about her feelings or her guilt its all just for the greater purpose shes reaching towards arghhh its so good.

There's also a notable throughline of her shutting her emotions down more and more as she goes, whether its to better do her job or to follow in miquella's footsteps :

-Unruly emotions only lead to misfortune. All the more reason we need someone like Miquella the Kind.

-Man is a compassionate animal, for better or worse.

-So be it. If you insist upon facing Miquella the Kind, Then I will run you through, whoever you might be.

-A single betrayal, enough to turn the tides… Unfortunate, but I will leave you be, for now.

-I expected things to end differently with you. What a pity

-I suppose it was Sir Ansbach who won you over. Fine. One more heart for my blade to skewer.

Side Note : Those three last ones also read like shes really salty about being betrayed, and that's really juicy because it feels like she trusted you. She trusted you a lot more than most of the others, so it really stings quite a bit to learn you were lying the entire time.

All in all, it really does feel like she has to shut herself down to be a better knight, a more efficient tool for Miquella to wield. It's also quite tragic because she seems to be a compassionate person at heart, she welcomes you into the club, she constantly tries to understand the reasonings for other people's actions, and she tries to find ways to let those she suspects off the hook :

-The hornsent, hmm. On one hand, he trusts Miquella the Kind to bring salvation to his people. With the enchantment lifted, his vengeful passions may once again ignite, but surely he'd be mindful of Kindly Miquella's promise... <- this reads like her trying to convince herself she doesn't have to kill him

It's also very interesting because despite that, she really doesn't seem to be much of a people person :

-But for this very reason, Thiollier is incapable of betrayal. St. Trina's love for Kind Miquella is boundless. She is, after all, his other half. Or perhaps her feelings go beyond even that. Even if she was left behind, I doubt her heart would waver. <- she's just deadass wrong about Thiollier and St Trina

-If you don't meet her before the charm breaks, she does a really awkward introduction and then immediately starts infodumping about her crippling paranoia and zealotry

-Ansbach straight up just tells you : So, you've taken Lady Leda's side. I'm glad she stands with an ally. She tends to overestimate the burden she might carry alone. This is straight up just "oh nice, you finally made a friend, im so glad for you". This implies that Ansbach didn't believe Leda really had anyone on her side before then, and she kinda doesn't tbh. No one is really here because of Leda in the final battle, Dane is here for Miquella, Freyja is here for Radahn, Moore is here to cope with existence, and Hornsent just has an (understandable) hate boner for everything Golden Order. She doesn't really have any friends.

(Also shoutout to Ansbach for being concerned about the people trying to kill him, he really is the goat fr. Also: I've utterly failed you both... No wait grandpa its not your fault im so sorry)

--the funniest moment in the DLC imo : I've come to a realisation... There's ample evidence... Without Kindly Miquella's influence... I'm quite mistrustful of others...

Ah yes of course, the trust issues. Where do I even start.

This woman has nothing but contempt for mankind as a species. She is, as stated earlier, compassionate and tries to be nice to people but she constantly assumes the worst of everyone as a reflex. Her trying to find a way not to kill Hornsent is only because she wholeheartedly believe he will be the worst version of himself as a baseline, and thus thinks of him as a threat who must be dealt with.

-I'm afraid Sir Ansbach will have to be next. He claims he hasn't the spirit to take up his sword again, But in his day, he was the feared commander of the Pureblood Knights, who cleaved open Miquella the Kind with his blood blade. But I doubt it'll be very long... Before he recalls, as I have, the cascading sheets of blood. <- no trust at all

-her dialogue about you "turning on her" also feel like she's resigned about it, like someone who came in expecting failure and was still disappointed, like why did i even try, i should really know better.

-That aside, man is by nature a creature of conquest. They were never saints. They just happened to be on the losing side of a war. <- the classic. What else needs to be said. These are the words of someone who takes war, violence and hatred as a given.

And that leads me to my next point. I think Leda has had a very violent life overall. Some of the shit she says sounds too specific to just be a generalisation:

-But vengeance changes a man.

-Unruly emotions only lead to misfortune.

-Before he recalls, as I have, the cascading sheets of blood.

-One more heart for my blade to skewer.

-The scent of the killer that slept within me.

This all sounds like she's talking from experience, and there's also her skills as a knight : she has the highest hp pools of the gank squad and can 2-3 shot most players. I know gameplay =/=lore but Freyja respects the hell out of her: Lady Leda and honourable Ansbach are of a special breed.

It's a very interesting combination of an extremely skilled knight who is very good at killing, has presumably been living a very violent existence and who trusts no one but herself, but who also hates having to kill and feels really guilty about it, despite having to do it for the sake of her cause.

And I believe that is the crux of her purpose, and why she is going through so much to fulfill it at any cost:

Leda believes intelligent beings are inherently flawed , and can never be trusted to do anything but make each other suffer. Leda is tired of inflicting and receiving violence, and sees little purpose in seeing the good in others. Leda would have probably made a terrific Lord of Frenzied Flame with how little hope she has.

But instead, she found Miquella. Miquella, who dreams of an age of compassion and who is in a position to achieve it, Miquella, who was raised in an order built and maintained through violence and grew to abhor it. Miquella, who Leda probably sees herself in, who Leda trusts blindly and unconditionally, for whom Leda is ready to commit any atrocity, no matter how it makes her feel, because he is her lifeline. He is her very last hope, the only solution short of complete annihilation she can see for mankind to reach pace.

So what if that peace is forced, is all of this suffering truly worth what little free will we can exert onto our world ? Leda has seen what mankind does with its free will, and she is tired of it.

She doesn't care if she lives to see it, she doesn't care if she has to kill every last part of herself in order for the world to see peace. No one will miss her anyway, she's nothing but a blood-soaked murderer. It doesn't matter if she likes these people, friendship and trust aren't worth all this senseless violence.

So she'll keep killing and killing and culling, until her blade is dull with crusted blood and every last obstacle to Miquella's age of compassion is gone. That's what a Needle knight does, is it not ? Kindly Miquella fashioned us as his needles to quell all, to ward away all.

And if Miquella doesn't understand her, it doesn't matter. He's far too good to understand the sacrifices necessary. She'll do what he can't. The other needle knights did not understand this, they were too naive to do what has to be done, so they were a liability. Don't think about their betrayed looks of terror, don't think about the cloying stench of blood sticking to your footsteps, this is your burden, this is what you deserve. You already knew you couldn't trust anyone, why would this be different ?

If Miquella must cast away parts of his very being to have this world then so can you. So sever that part of yourself that says you should be nice, that you should trust those willing to help, it only makes things worse. It will all be worth it in the end.

Phew, i kind of went apeshit while writing that last part. I hadn't really planned all that honestly.

To conclude this essay, I'd like to point out a really fun parallel to draw here. In this analysis, I have described my interpretation of Leda as a very skilled self-loathing blood-soaked knight who is tired of their endless crusade and yet is endlessly pushed forward by their utter devotion to their god, their salvation made flesh, whom they will shield for the atrocities committed in their name by being the sole person to blame. If that doesnt remind you of Messmer, then i think ill just curl up into a ball and yell very loudly.

Thanks for reading till the end of this absolutely nightmarishly long ramble, let me know if you liked it ! And don't hesitate to send any Leda fics you find or write along the way !

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #needle knight leda #character analysis #rambles

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plague-karm · 2 months ago

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Okay since people actually wanted the oc x canon shit here it is ig. I also want to preface this by saying that I am VERY inexperienced with writing characters from pre-existing IP’s (I mostly write for my own characters) so if anything’s OOC here then that’s why. But the funnie rock man has consumed by my brain so yeah. Here’s some background stuff about Carissa and other things regarding this funnie little thing I came up with.

Carissa is the heavenly virtue of charity, the seven heavenly virtues are some of the only creations god doesn’t regret due to them enacting their purpose without any pushback and they live on a completely different plane of existence as a result, high ranking angels visit them often as their domain is nearest to heaven.

My voice claim for her is Christy Altomare.

Unlike the angels who don’t care about humanity, the virtues haven’t lost faith in them (they often talk to the humans who ended up in heaven during the final war, soothing their fears).

She has pet rabbits that she tends to in her private sanctuary that she loves dearly.

I know Sisyphus is based more on the Camus poem rather than the Greek myth but the constantly cheating death thing fits with the concept of Greed WAY too well so I’m including it (this will come into play later).

Greed is the lowest layer she’s willing to go to (Wrath is the midpoint of how bad the sins are and I feel like the lower layers are that depraved that no one really goes there).

Sisyphus overthrew Midas here because of course he did.

He created the moon pendant so she could visit him in Greed more frequently because the rays and dust damaged her body.

One of his main motivations for getting with her was the fact an angel was heavily pining for her and the thought of cucking the enemy was too tempting to pass up (he got to spite the oppressors and he got a wife win win).

The formation of the council took FOREVER so that’s how Carissa got away with being with him for so long.

They get together before Minos’ death and separate before the Greed Insurrection.

She saw his beheading and is the only living being who knows the location of his husks head.

Carissa and Gabriel are actually pretty close which makes what happens later pretty fucked up. Things get complicated.

I’m subscribing to the theory that Treachery is a frozen wasteland and will make hell freeze over because it’s cool.

Okay let’s get into this shit wheyyyyy

PRE-GAME

Carissa is a VERY respected figure for obvious reasons, she was kind, compassionate, and giving to all.

When god disappeared she was incredibly concerned about the state of heaven and what could become of hell with the peering eyes of heaven averting their gaze.

So without telling anyone, she secretly travelled to hell with the intentions of reporting her findings to whoever would next be in charge.

Limbo was a ghost town, she wasn’t expecting much there anyway, but she felt…wrong.

Why were those who didn’t believe in god here? He wasn’t a physical presence, how were they supposed to know if he existed or not? And the books she found…they made her feel sick to her stomach.

They were innocent, slowly being driven insane by the superficial world around them, a constant reminder of what they could’ve had…

No, it couldn’t all be like this right? Besides, Lust IS a sin, surely that’s a place where the depraved souls of the damned deserve to toil in eternal punishment?

So she ventured deeper…and what she found was shocking…

A city, a paradise, she couldn’t believe it, all of this…? Was built by those who sinned…? Was what she was told up there even real? Several people putting aside their differences and building a better life for themselves…it moved her deeply.

She eventually met Minos and was heavily conflicted.

Surely she should report this right? This was against the father’s law! The punishment created by him was being turned into a reward!

…But still, she just couldn’t do it, she was enamoured with the city of Lust, her home was usually quite bright so the change in scenery was very much needed in her eyes.

She would continue visiting in secret, her and Minos had similar philosophical views so they became quick friends and of course her meeting Sisyphus was inevitable.

He was immediately intrigued, she was the complete opposite of him, and he had no idea why she hadn’t said a word to heaven about any of this.

He wasn’t rolling the boulder! Minos’ methods may be too passive for his tastes but they were STILL defying heaven! Why wasn’t she saying anything to them?!

He didn’t mind it of course (hell it was actually pretty convenient considering what he was planning) but still…

They hang out in Lust normally because a majority of meetings are held there (plus Minos was literally the JUDGE of hell it makes sense).

Carissa was very intimidated by Sisyphus at first, and who could blame her? His disposition and his history was enough to put anyone off.

He noticed this and it irritated him quite a bit, he may have killed a few people and used every outsider who dared enter his kingdom on earth as an example but come on he wasn’t THAT bad!

Her first travel to Greed didn’t go well to put it lightly, the heat was almost unbearable, if it wasn’t for lower levels of Sisyphus’ place (I like to think the area in 4-3 and 4-4 was where he lived) having significant amounts of shade she would’ve passed out for sure.

As a result she mostly goes to Lust due to the cooler atmosphere.

He doesn’t know what to do…he likes seeing her anywhere but the fact that she barely visited him in his own layer…it irked him to no end.

So he had an idea.

A way for her to visit him.

It took forever but he somehow made it.

The moon pendant.

He requested her presence and she showed up fairly covered since the heat still got to her.

He used the pendant and she was in AWE.

The night sky was beautiful and the air was clear instead of being humid to a suffocating degree.

She asked him why he did this, and he said that the fact that she couldn’t visit due to her body’s limitations frustrated him to the point of creating the moon pendant as a way to make her time with him more convenient.

This is where it started.

Minos could IMMEDIATELY tell what was going on with Sisyphus, him doing something for someone else (especially if that someone wasn’t from greed) was EXTREMELY out of character for him, he knew him very well, he was one of the only people Sisyphus respected as an equal regardless of him disagreeing with his methods so he immediately figured out what was happening and he was ecstatic.

Carissa on the other hand didn’t know what to do, she had SO many admirers from heaven…so out of everyone she could’ve fallen for why did it have to be HIM?! She was terrified of what could happen if people found out, she may have been incredibly high ranking but she wasn’t invincible, her sisters of virtue could cast her out! He could be killed!

But…the fact that he would go as far as to create a day and night cycle in Greed for her sake…the way he made sure that he took on the load for his people if it was too much for them to bare…it moved her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Sisyphus could TELL that she felt the same, but he was patient (as he always was).

He knew she was worried for good reason, even though he didn’t fear them, he knew exactly why she did.

He was okay with being killed as long as he stood by his beliefs but she was innocent, she wasn’t a cog in their corrupt system, she was BEYOND them, and helped the people in the layers regardless of her status, that was more than enough for him.

Over a VERY long period of time he finally confessed and she accepted gracefully.

The two came to an agreement, no one could know about this (except Minos of course), if it was up to him he’d show her off like no tomorrow, but he knew that her position would be in jeopardy so for once in his life he was subtle.

He would send her gifts pretty often when she was in her sanctuary, they were unsigned so no one knew it was him, Gabriel delivered them (the guy was also a messenger and the fanart I saw of him delivering mail was funnie so why not).

He would often ask who kept sending her these overly luxurious gifts but she’d say she had no idea.

It was mostly night time when she visited him but she had eventually gotten used to the heat there so she visited quite frequently regardless of the weather.

They bantered a lot, she felt like she could be herself around him, less formal and more relaxed.

She really likes his voice, it soothes her when she’s feeling stressed about the disappearance of god, it may have happened a while ago but it was still on her mind…

He was aware that he had an effect on her and used that to his advantage, he’s a very smooth talker (he cheated death god knows how many times so he definitely has a way with words).

Carissa is fully aware of this and sometimes calls him out on it, it’s all in fun though.

LOVES his hair, she always wonders how he keeps it in such good condition despite the weather of greed being so brutal.

He has met her pets, he wasn’t expecting so many of them but hey they’re quiet at least.

Sometimes watches them play fight in his throne room, gets oddly invested despite how ridiculous it looks on the surface, their battle tactics are interesting.

He sometimes wonders how they can withstand Greed’s temperatures, but he tries not to think about it too hard or else he’d risk going insane.

They take nightly walks often, he made clothes for her so she wouldn’t blend in with the environment in case anything bad happened, they’re very comfy :)

Her comfort is his top priority no matter what, he respects her and makes sure everything in Greed is at its highest standard whenever she comes over.

They were both aware that they were walking on thin ice so the wedding was VERY lowkey, he never told her this but the actual event kind of disappointed him, he thought she deserved more, but she was fine with it, she was just happy she was with him.

Things were great…

That all changed when Minos died.

Carissa wept while Sisyphus grieved silently.

He knew this would happen, he KNEW…but a small, foolish part of him hoped that what Minos had built there would work out…but it wasn’t meant to be.

A few nights later he told her about his plan to put insurrection in motion.

The watchful eye of heaven made it harder for Carissa to sneak into Greed but they made it work.

They would become distant during this time, his focus on the army was too great, the plan he had been formulating for millennia was FINALLY coming to fruition.

Carissa was VERY worried about him despite his demeanour being the same as ever. Regardless of their differences she knew Minos meant a lot to him.

This culminated one night in an argument, she exclaimed that this was putting his people in extreme danger, that he could DIE doing this…and he responded saying “I know”. It was a risk he was more than willing to take for his and his people’s salvation, regardless of what his fate would be.

This was too much…and then he told her to leave, he knew that if she chose to stay with him during the insurrection she would be killed (she was high ranking, but defying heaven was considered heresy, regardless of who it was).

She had no fighting experience, she only existed to spread peace and joy, the thought of her dying, leaving her rabbits behind, HIM behind…he couldn’t bare it.

She was heartbroken, but she left without another word…she was devastated. He almost wept himself…but his plan was too important, he had dedicated his entire afterlife towards this, he couldn’t stop now.

Divorce Arc :(

The day of the insurrection was witnessed by all of heaven, even Carissa, because she wanted to make sure he would be okay…

And then Gabriel descended upon high…and Sisyphus’ head was displayed for all to see.

The last thing he saw was the horror in her eyes as his conscious left him, her sobs were like whispers compared to the cheers surrounding her as he was slain.

She grieved in private, she knew he’d be happy about this, fighting against his oppressors until his last breath…but she didn’t want things to end between them the way they did.

She would return to Greed in secret, horrified by the fate of the Sisyphean Insurrectionists, mutilated and ripped apart except for the bare essentials…

She would use the night pendant to make their punishment slightly more bearable.

During one of her many secret visits she found the head of his husk…she would visit it often as a way to deal with her grief.

She’d tell it everything, what she did that day, how the rabbits were doing, how much she missed his company…his humour…everything. She had never felt this empty before in her life…

She would write about her feelings in several empty books, ones she kept hidden throughout the deepest depths of the temple.

She didn’t talk to Gabriel much after that, she knew he had practically become a vessel for the council’s cruelty but it still hurt.

He thought she avoided him because she wasn’t used to him committing such violent acts (nah bro it’s because you killed her friend and her husband idiot 😒).

POST-GAME

Carissa continued her duties but the light in her eyes had lost its lustre, something her sisters of virtue took notice of.

They were worried about her, but she’d always brush them off.

Since we know the council gets murked later on the fathers light would die alongside them. Heaven knew this and they were free for their final moments…

The heavenly virtues had no idea though, so when they slowly died off along with her rabbits Carissa was terrified and confused until she went down to heaven and realised that the end of times was upon them all.

Gabriel became aware of Sisyphus becoming a prime soul, being slain at the hands of the machine…but unlike those before him, he wasn’t fooled…

Minos’ will to go on was snuffed out the second the machine robbed him of his chance at vengeance…

Sisyphus cheated death several times, his tenacity was as annoying as it was impressive, he’d do it again.

He KNEW he’d do it again.

He travelled to Greed to see if he had returned to his domain and inevitably found the books Carissa left behind…and everything clicked for him.

The constant disappearances, the gifts, the ring she wore, the fact she could barely look at him…my god, it all made sense.

He knew things were going to end soon, he knew his time would soon be over…

So he wanted to do a good deed for his dear friend one last time.

He entered the barren sanctuary and saw her sitting motionless, the last embers of the fathers light filling the once vibrant scenery gifted by he who left them…

He kneeled beside her…

“He isn’t dead…”

“…What? Gabriel, I saw you-“

“His soul lives”

“…”

“I know it does…and I know about…what happened between you…”

“How do you-?”

“I went down there to see if he tried to rebuild it, I saw your books…you spoke fondly of him”

“I hoped no one would find out…”

“The machine had him slain, but you know him better than I ever will…”

“He’s always been stubborn…even in the face of impossible odds…”

She chuckled weakly, she always admired that about Sisyphus, no matter how the odds were stacked against him, he’d always go for it, regardless of his actions (she knew he wasn’t perfect) that was an aspect of him almost everyone respected.

“Do you want to see him again?”

She turned to look at him for the first time in years, of course she did, the last thing she wanted was to die in this cold, dark world alone.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, but I will be able to sense his presence if we go down there together, I can’t stay with you though, if he sees me there will be a fight…and you deserve to go out peacefully”

She nodded, they travelled to Greed…they found him, he was standing alone, a shining light in the rubble that was once his home. Carissa whispered.

“Thank you…”

Gabriel nodded and left without a word, Carissa approached him quietly, standing beside him, looking over the remains of the Insurrectionists and the landmarks once littered across the dust below. He looked different, but she could tell it was him.

Sisyphus finally took notice of her presence, barely managing to restrain himself from doing anything too emotional.

“I thought you would’ve gone up there and completed your mission by now…”

“No, the weapon will get further than I ever will…are they all…?”

“Almost…”

For the first time in his life he wasn’t sure what to do, this was the first time he had seen her in years…should he apologise? But he got what he wanted…no…he had something else to tell her, something that would mean more than a handful of words he had never said with once with seriousness.

“I heard you…”

“Heard what?”

“When you were talking to my husk…I heard all of it, I felt your kisses, I thought it was all a dream…I just wanted to make sure you knew that before you were gone”

She wanted to cry, he heard her? He could sense her sadness, after the way their relationship ended he wouldn’t have blamed her if she never wanted to see him again…but she came all this way…the least he could do was provide her with company before the jaws of death claimed them…

The two talked about everything before their time was over, trying to regain the years that had escaped them

The fact that she was still wearing the ring after all this time…that meant so much to him…more than she could ever know…

And then he could feel it, the cold…

Hand in hand, side by side…they died together…

And he didn’t regret a second of it

#karm rambles #sisyphus ultrakill #king sisyphus #ultrakill #sisyphus prime #Minos prime #oc x canon #if this flops i will cry #king Sisyphus x reader #I know I’m pushing it with that last one but I don’t care #summer solstice

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