#and stars the amount of guilt they must feel

[moons-among-distant-stars]

jesus fuck

the degree to which frin is self sacrificing is gonna kill me

“what if they died because you tried to get a better ending”

aaaaaaaa they seem themselves as disposable and he doesn’t even consider the option of trying to find a way to save them without getting hurt because he’d so much rather sacrifice his own life than risk any of theirs

characters expressing their depression/lack of self worth through carelessness about their life will always kill me

YOUR LIFE IS GOOD AND WORTHY AND YOU DESERVE TO BE ALIVE JUST AS MUCH AS ANY OF THEM FRIN

stars above and the time loop is making it so much worse it’s enabling their self destruction and letting them be the sacrifice, it’s adding to his martyr complex so much and it’s gonna kill him, again and again and again and again

forgive me while i go scream

[aheathen-conceivably]

Sunrise was only a few hours away, and the pack of cigarettes that Zelda and Antoine had brought out into the sand with them was almost empty. Somewhere around midnight they had realized that lying awake under the open sky would be easier than trying to sleep in the confines of their bedroom, and for hours they had been right.

All her life, Zelda had been used to it, the way the stars began to blur around this time, turning into tiny cosmos all their own as your body begged for sleep but your mind refused. It was a different kind of sleeplessness than the one she had known in New Orleans, one that was driven more by dread than wild nights and champagne. She imagined that for Antoine, this feeling must have been quite new. At least, she told herself, he didn’t have to feel it alone the way she had once been so used to.

She moved her legs restlessly, the bed of the truck still poking into her back uncomfortably despite the armfuls of blankets they had brought outside with them. He shifted his arm under the spot where it was bothering her, taking her hand in his as he spoke. “You should try and sleep, we can go back inside, let Gio find the blankets in the morning and wonder what Okie made it their home last night.”

One small look told him that she didn’t need to sleep; but he already knew that. He traced his hand along her cheek as she studied every small detail of his face. Every day it seemed like there was a new line to memorize, as though she could reconstruct it in her mind to keep him from aging or disappearing forever. It seemed inordinately silly to be doing it now as though he would be off to war or across the sea and not merely on tour for a few weeks. But they hadn’t been apart since she left for England. Night after night he was there with her, and every morning after he awoke by her side.

She suddenly realized that maybe he was right. She should sleep, because it would be unlikely she would be able to do so once he was gone.

“Zelda…” the words froze in his throat, as if he had been keeping them there and was afraid to make them a reality. She knew that even at the best of times he weighed every word he spoke, often so much so that many of them were never uttered at all. But she looked up to him earnestly, and that was all he needed to voice the plea that has been on his mind since sunset. “We can figure something out. Anything. I won’t go. Just say the word and I won’t go.”

The air caught in her lungs, because she knew that he meant it, and then the burden of their panic and his missed opportunity would be on her for the rest of their lives. It was an inconceivable amount of guilt, but one she so badly wanted to bear. Only one thing stopped her from saying yes, and that was that it would have been more selfish than she possibly knew how to be. They needed the money, and he at the very least deserved the chance to try. With one word she could have stopped everything that was in motion: Jo’s intricate plans, Antoine’s chance at success, Gio’s last opportunity to save his dream. But for that exact reason, she couldn’t do it.

“Please go. Please be as great as I know you can be and come home in one piece. That’s all I ask.”

His expression was unreadable. Part of it seemed like he had resigned himself to his fate, and maybe another part of it was relieved that she hadn’t said yes. Relieved that at least this way, he could make sure they were safe, and he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life wondering what could have been. A small laugh covered up whatever ability she may have had to figure it out before he pulled her closer. “I suppose I see why you don’t sleep so easily now.”

As he pulled away to look at her again, their sad, shared smile lifted some of the melancholy from them both, even if it added to the deep sorrow that they would lose it for a while. He lifted himself up onto the truck, pulling her up with him as they looked out at the mountains in the distance. Then he gently moved her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could. “Just close your eyes. Close your eyes and float, even if you don’t sleep. Sooner or later you’ll open them and I’ll be back.”

She listened. Not just because part of her was tired, but simply because she didn’t want to look at the stars blur and contort any more. She had long learned that it was easier to pass the final hours until daylight like this, in some sort of trance between sleep and wakefulness. It was even easier now, because he was here, and with her eyes closed and his hands around her waist the stars behind her eyes didn’t seem like reminders to open them again. They seemed like shining distractions, all encompassing centers of light that could blind her to the fears and the pains that kept her awake in the first place.

But when she opened them again, the stars were gone, and so was he.

[agxinstthesun]

an overly complex analysis of how the killjoys deal with loss

party poison-

party poison has a soul crushing fear of death. maybe it isn’t apparent- not what you’d expect from someone who appears so confident and in tune with themselves, but there’s signs. the way their eyes go dark when anyone in the crew gets even slightly injured- the way they're always first to volunteer to stay up all night on patrol, knowing their paranoia would keep them up either way. you could chalk it up to their “leader instincts,” but their crew would argue it runs deeper than that. a good leader doesn’t have to do what party does- a good leader - by zone standards - keeps the group motivated- keeps them from splitting up. party poison keeps the group alive, together. they took a team and effortlessly morphed it into a family. admitting to it would feed their suspended guilt even more, but each time they hear of a death outside their inner circle, a small part of them is relieved that it wasn't their family blinded by the witches touch that day.

if it were to happen, it would destroy them. the loss would be bad enough, but the guilt of it all might be enough to put them out of commission for a long while. as strong as they are, the role of "leader" digs into them like the soles of a brand new pair of shoes. leaving an indent of responsibility and overcompensation in the sand with every step they take.

jet star-

jet star never strays far from death, not since what happened to his family. finding his parents ghosted after an unexpected raid carried out by some particularly violent exterminators was the catalyst for a lot of things in his life. his heightened sympathy for the dead and the mourning was one of those things. he was known throughout the desert as a safe person to talk to about those topics. it was even said that he would offer sympathy despite negative affiliations or disagreements your group had with his. it'd be a lie to say it didn't weigh on him, though. the anger built up from hearing all of these stories and the lingering effects from his own experiences culminated in an intense hatred for BLI and everything they had done. this passion was the one thing him and party poison truly connected over when they first met.

it's no surprise that, if confronted by a companions passing, this anger and passion would hit him hard. how unfair it is, how inhumane, it shakes him. initially, he'd think to organize- to finally just go for it and take out as many of those pigs as possible- but he wouldn't. he's too aware of the amount of people in the zones that still need him. he's second in command, he's as much a leader as party is. still, he'd become distant. it'd serve as another warning not to get too close, to not give too much of yourself to something that is only ever temporary.

fun ghoul-

fun ghoul doesn't acknowledge death. despite his ever frequent catfights with it, he manages to get by rarely considering the possibility. the truth being that if he did, the weight of it all would crush him. deep down, he knows he's helpless to it. he knows that each time he evades her grasp, she gets smarter. it's no doubt it'll all catch up to him eventually..but his friends are all untouchable. seeing them injured, near ghosted? it never feels real. on a bad night, he'll think of how the others must look down, mortified, to him each time he’s left bleeding out against the desert sun. it gives him a sense of importance sometimes, but usually it just builds guilt.

if he had to face a loss head on, it would be a pivotal moment to him. as the reality set in, he'd feel lost. stupid for being naive enough to ignore it for so long. that love of throwing himself into the danger that he relied so heavily on before would fade just as fast as it came, the loss weighing him down in small ways for as long as he lived. the remorse he’d feel for pushing his love inward, and seldom expressing it, would sit heavy on his shoulders. he'd cling even more to whatever it is he had left, and protect it with his whole life.

kobra kid-

kobra kid is conflicted on death. of course it scared him- the thought that he would disappear one day, but more often than not, he caught himself wondering if that was just something he had picked up from party. the longer he thought about it on his own time, the more the thought became oddly comforting. the fact that there would eventually be a moment of rest amidst all the chaos didn’t sound all that bad to him..of course, it also pissed him off. it made him mad that the city forced that mindset onto you. the idea that submitting yourself to death was the only way to true freedom. however, it wouldn’t take long for the morbid curiosity found its way back to him.

he was almost too aware of the looming presence of death around him and the rest of the crew (the rest of the desert, really). if it happened, he wouldn’t be shocked, but deeply mourning still. he’d send letters in the mailbox, despite always considering it a futile effort. he’d silently participate in whatever zone rituals he thought would help him feel better, though they almost never would. he’d become especially reclusive and unresponsive to sympathy- it’s just something people do to feel like they’re helping, right? he’s way more dependent on his crew than he’d ever let on, and this fate would only further prove that.

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS | BILLY LOOMIS X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: you know he’s in a relationship. you know that this is wrong. but somehow, you just can’t seem to stay away from billy loomis.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst, cheating, billy isn’t a great guy lol, reader is insecure, suggestive content, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: yes this is (admittedly a little loosely) based off of the taylor song… I never claimed I was 100% original!! idk what this is tbh but I haven’t posted in a while so <3

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

He’s barely opened the door before his hand grabs yours, pulling you out of the rain and into his warm embrace. He doesn’t even complain about your sodden state, lips crashing into yours as he clumsily backs you against the wall.

“I’m glad you made it, baby.” Billy murmurs in between kisses, voice low with lust. “Fuck, I couldn’t wait any longer. See what you do to me?”

God, it makes it so much easier when he talks to you like that. When he talks like he breathes just for you, like you’d hung the stars and moon. It’s easier to pretend that way. 

It doesn’t take long. One moment, your legs are wrapped around Billy’s strong frame and the next, you’re laying beneath him on his bed, sighing as he works on your neck. The marks he leaves are purposeful, and they’ll no doubt be a pain to cover up tomorrow. You tell Billy exactly that, making sure to inject just the right amount of that teasing tone you know drives him crazy into your voice. 

“Good,” he says lowly, “Lets people know you’re spoken for. Can’t have anyone touching what’s mine.” He grinds down as if to emphasise his point, hips meeting yours in a way that sends a jolt of electric thrill through your bones. 

At least, you think that’s what it’s from; maybe it’s all simply down to his choice of words - mine. He knew what that did to you - what visceral effect it must have on you. Knew how much it meant to you to be wanted and desired and cherished by somebody like Billy Loomis. It was all you’d ever wanted. 

Except…

“Except I’m not.” Your voice barely comes out above a whisper. Billy comes to a halt, his lips moving from your collarbone as his brown eyes meet yours. He looks confused and vulnerable in a way that makes you sorry for even bringing it up, but you can’t ignore it. Not now. Not today. 

“You are. You know that you are. You mean everything to me, just-"

“Just not as much as Sidney, right?” Her name tastes like ash in your mouth. It always came back to Sidney Prescott - sweet, smart, stunning, Sidney. The girl who barely knew you yet always made an effort to smile at you in the hallway and compliment your outfits. The girl whose boyfriend you were sleeping with behind her back. 

From the moment he’d flashed you that charming smirk of his, you knew you were a goner for Billy Loomis. And you’d tried to fight it, you really had. He was bad news, all of your friends thought so, and most importantly, he had a girlfriend. Everybody knew him and Sidney were serious. And you were better than that, sleeping with a taken man. 

Except, as it turns out, you weren’t. Not really, anyway. He didn’t even have to try to get you in bed with him, but after the first time, you’d felt so goddamn guilty that you swore it would never happen again. 

Your resolve lasted an entire week. Billy was like a drug, alluring in every possible way and so entirely addictive. You couldn’t stay away from him even if you tried. And although the guilt never entirely disappeared, it sure as hell became easier to ignore when Billy whispered sweet nothings into your ear and made you feel like you’d had everything you’d been missing your entire life. 

“Sidney?” Billy laughs, a sound almost as beautiful as he is. “Sidney means nothing to me. I’m going to blow her off, and then we can really be together, do it right.”

As awful as it is, the thought of that seems completely compelling. You want to be Billy’s, utterly and solely, more than anything on this earth. Besides, anything would be better than passing him in the hallway and pretending you don’t know every fraction of him so completely intimately.  Pretending like he’s not the first and last thing you think of each day. Pretending that you don’t solely wear the single perfume that he complimented once.

So intimately that you know that, at this moment in time, you can’t believe a single word that flows from his mouth - no matter how desperately you want them to be true. 

“Billy,” you sigh, turning your head away from his pleading gaze. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he replies rather impatiently. “You know it’s-"

“Complicated,” you finish miserably. “I just don’t get why it has to be!”

“Look, I can’t talk about this right now. Can’t we just…” 

He trails off, and his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. It’s too easy to sink into it, to sit back and just let Billy take the lead and give you just what you want. It’s damn near impossible to pull back, but by some miracle, you manage to do so. 

“I’m just saying,” you protest. “If you can’t stand Sidney, if she’s truly as bad as you say she is, why can’t you just end things with her?” The sheer frustration that laces your tone is evident even to you. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this Billy, it’s driving me insane, I-"

“What, so you’re mad at me now?” Billy scoffs, tone completely accusatory. “Because you knew what you were getting into - you’re hardly innocent here, alright! I didn’t trick you into sleeping with me - last I checked, you're perfectly fine with our arrangement when it means you get to be the one under me! So why d’you even care, huh - in fact, why don’t you do us both a favour and keep the fuck out of my business?”

You reel back as if you’ve been slapped. Not because of what was said - you both know the words to be true, however deep down that is - but because of how much they hurt. You knew you were a horrible person, but you hoped that Billy saw you as more than that - you needed him to see you as more than that. And by the way he usually acted in your company when it was just the two of you, you thought that he did. When you were alone, he worshipped you. Fuck, the boy looked at you as if he was completely and utterly in awe of your mere presence. And he’d definitely never snapped at you like this. 

It’s one thing hating yourself for what you’re doing, but it’s another having the one person you love so deeply confirm all the ugly parts of your personality that you work so hard to keep hidden from the world. 

He can evidently read the hurt written all over your face, and Billy’s once irritated gaze softens. “Shit,” he breathes, and you can’t tell if he genuinely sounds remorseful or if you’re naively hearing what you want to believe. 

It’s easier to go with the latter option. 

You make a move to stand, but you feel a strong arm pulling you back down onto the bed below. “I’m so sorry,” Billy apologises, pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “I’m being an ass, I know that. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, baby.” With your arm still in his tight grasp, it would be difficult to stand up without outright pushing him away from you. But with each hushed word Billy speaks, you find yourself wanting to stay more and more. After all, he was right. You were already guilty, and your dignity was clearly long gone. What would be the use in leaving? It’s not like you could fall any further from grace. 

Your eyes flutter closed as Billy kisses all along your jaw, mumbling apologies under his breath as he does so. “I’ll fix everything, I swear. You’ve just gotta trust me,” he vows before his lips suddenly move beside your ear. His breath is hot as he murmurs, “you do trust me, right doll?” A small, pathetic whimper escapes from the back of your throat, and you find yourself nodding before you even decide to move. 

“That’s my girl.” The honey-sweet tone of his voice is enough to make you crumble, and your fingers desperately start to make work of undoing his belt. It doesn’t take long, what with your hands working practically on autopilot. Billy takes the hint, and he eagerly pulls your shirt over your head with ease, strong fingers unclasping your bra once he’s finished. 

You’re making a complete fool of yourself, a bitter voice whispers at the edge of your mind. He’s spelled it out for you, and yet you’re still here, letting him undress you like this. How pitiful. 

It’s not incorrect. Billy Loomis had undoubtedly made a mess of you. Ruined you. Before all of this - and God, how long ago that seemed now - you were good. You were headstrong and assertive, and you’d never been one to let people walk all over you. That girl was a far cry from the person you were now, and she’d undeniably despise the idiotic fool you’d become.  

You wouldn’t exactly blame her, either. You know that when you get home, you won’t even be able to face your own reflection. You never can. 

But you also know damn well that when Billy undoubtedly comes running back to you, because he does, every single time without fail, you’ll blindly follow him right back into his arms - and right back into his bed. 

It’s awful. You know that, no matter how much parts of you try to pretend otherwise. There’s no sugarcoating it, no justification for your actions that aren’t completely shallow and selfish. You just have to hope that one day, you’ll snap out of it. If Billy doesn’t choose you - accept you fully like the way you accepted him long ago - you like to think that one day, you’ll have the self-respect to leave and tell Sidney the truth. Hope she’d accept your shitty excuse of an apology. But as you lay here in this room right now, back arched and Billy in between your legs, you know that day won’t be any time soon.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

[partywithoutsmiling]

Alright darling (can i call you that?) the Rock Beast AU just became my new ✨️hyperfixation✨️ so prepare! Please tell us how does John reacts to his bitty B becoming a Monster

Once he actually finds out who the great Beast is, not very well obviously XD

But if that AU would be a fic, it would be at least couple chapters down the line. My idea for Poppy's and Branch's escape is that while at first they crossed quite a distance through air, soon they were forced to travel by foot, as Branch's wing becomes injured and trying to take flight again would be foolish.

A blessing in disguise it turns out, as the Rock Trolls under Barb's command do not think to stop and search the ground, not that close to their territory, and our duo hides out of sight in the undegrowth, just to see their Angler Ships pass overhead, clearly heading towards the Pop territory

(the thought for this AU being that Barb is convinced that Pop poses exactly the same amount of threat as it did in the ancient past, where they were the most numerous, and seeing the pitiful number of Pop trolls rounded up, figures there must be more Pop villages hidden deep inside the woods that make their territory- so it would make sense to her to think Poppy and Branch went to get more back up- which is correct in a way, as Branch's intention was to fly them all the way to Bergentown, as having giants for allies would become handy in this case)

Meeting John Dory was a complete accident. Headcanoning that he had bad business with the Rock Trolls in the past, he probably decided to skeddadle into the wilderness once he saw the activity in the sky, not wanting to deal with that business- and I liked the idea that the Neverglades were actually a sort of natural border between Pop and Rock, a contested piece of land for both. Usually quite content to sleep out and about, either under stars or in Rhonda, the storm and all the chaos happening around him has him relocate to well known and explored caves- in which he finds Poppy and Branch, who sort of unanimously decide to keep their travelling to the night time, where it gives them less chance to be spotted.

Neither group is thrilled to be discovered by the other, at first- John Dory simply on the principle that lone trolls seems to be bounty hunters more often than not (and this one has a literal monster by her side!) and Poppy... well, for the exact same reason really XD she had been burned by her trust in a stranger- one that led her into this mess she is in- and the source of her major guilt is standing right behind her.

However, compared to JD, she is injured; an unexpected dip in the lake left her feeling sickly, and she is starving- and Branch is hardly doing any better. So it all ends up in a rather tense stand off, where Branch is the only one spiralling, because holy shit that's his brother

And he wants to wail and he wants to sink his claws into JD's face and tear that smug ass grin off his face- and it's the shock of that thought that has him to do neither of those things, and instead forces him to evaluate the situation a bit better.

Because for all JD's abandonment, he is a Pop Troll- and that means a potential ally- and so it is with a gentle nuzzle that he sooths Poppy's unvoiced fears and worries, and encourages her to ask JD for help

The introductions come, of course- but Poppy doesnt mention that Branch is a troll-turned-beast, and while JD's expression turns rather strained at hearing Branch's name, there is nothing that would clue him in that Branch is *his* Branch (His precious baby brother, who he thinks is dead for several years, and being an expert at avoidance of painful truths, there is no way he is sharing that with a complete stranger)

So as far he knows, Poppy's "pet" just has a rather unfortunate name, and Branch's colours are again rather washed out.

Branch just doesnt want to deal with the mess that is his familial trauma and is quite relieved JD doesnt have a clue to his original identity

(of course Poppy, desperate to socialize after being locked up with no-one but mute Branch for company, ends up bonding with JD rather quickly- especially after he treats her wounds and offers her a safe shelter- and finding his collection of memorabilia snowballs into discovering his identity as THE John Dory- and Branch's connection to it all, when John Dory, unable to resist the force that is Poppy, eventually talks about all his brothers- including Bitty B)

Also, this isn't connected to that scene, but even then I think you would enjoy this little treat:

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

Branch was injured.

That much Poppy could observe, from the simple way he was carrying himself.

The rush of their escape didn’t seem to want to pass; the pink troll felt like every breath came out with accompanied tremble, and her heart was keen on making itself as loud as possible- it drummed hard in her ears and pulsed in tandem with the ache that throbbed mutely through her sore arm.

The sudden dive and crash into the murky depths of the lake jostled it- but at the time, her mind was hardly crystal clear enough to focus on anything but uncoordinated flailing as she panicked from the shock of the chilling water, trying to instinctively kick herself up to get to the surface. A great deal of her attention had also been overtaken by fear; for her life, yes, but also for Branch, as she had seen him seize up in one blink and then start falling out of the sky in another, his grip on her- previously strong and secure- now limp and weak, a puppet losing all motion as if its strings were suddenly cut.

Yet it was him who dragged her out of the lake in the end, his great head going under her belly and chest and lifting her high above the surface, leaving her clutching onto his mane with painful grip, gasping and sputtering, a sob roughly tearing through her throat before she could stop it. The sudden relief of air filling her lungs once more was not enough to mask the sudden pain that laced through her right arm, and Poppy had sobbed once more, clenching her eyes shut, burying her face into the soggy mess of Branch’s hair.

Low rumbling moan echoed from the beast under her, the strength of it- for all that it was quiet- reaching all the way to her core- but she was unable to do anything but breathe, the action shallow and painful, as her arm throbbed throbbed throbbed.

Vaguely, she felt the chilling water lapping at her legs, and her ears twitched at the sound of soft splashes- the body under her rocking forward, Branch’s breath just as shallow as hers, but clearly now moving, swimming, towards what she hoped was dry land.

The sky crackled, a thunder left in the wake of it, and she shivered when a first drop splashed against her back, bringing a shock of ice to her already drenched body. Another moan and Branch lurched forward, his swimming now gaining urgency- even in this shape, he was well aware of the danger that rain possessed for species as small as theirs, especially when it caught them on a lake. The prickle of unease was what had her force herself to lift her herself up, her good arm gripping Branch’s mane more firmly while held the other more securely to her chest.

Already the drops were breaking the surface apart, the water splashing up and sending waves that clearly impeded her friend’s progress; one that seemed to be made difficult simply for the fact that Branch had extra set of limbs that were hardly made for swimming- with one wing flapping or paddling awkwardly to help propel forward, while her other followed at much slower pace. It was the trembles and shakes that seemed to run through the appendage that caused Poppy’s heart to plummet to the depths of her stomach.

“Branch..?”

He voice was a pathetically weak and wobbly thing- there has been a shock, followed by euphoria, when her companion suddenly ripped through the bars dividing their cells like knife through butter. His cell had been a dark and dreary place, cut away from any natural light- hers had a large barred window that showed nothing but the menacing glow of the volcano, its fiery tones casting orange hues into the grim, cloudy looking sky. She had often caught him watching through the gaps of his cell, great glowing red eyes focused intently on the singular glimpse of freedom, and many times wondered if his sudden critter like instincts urged him to take flight. He did many things in the time they had nothing but each other for company, that could hardly hint that his interest could have other reasons. He prowled around, as much as his chains allowed him, and quite often his wings would flap. His claws would flex and his limbs would stretch- and Poppy had thought it a simple restlessness of a trapped animal, frustrated at the lack of necessary space.

She had thought. She didn’t expect it to be a slow exploration and familiarization of foreign limbs and muscles- not until she had been scooped up like kittenbug, and not until they were hurling face first through the window, Branch simply tucking his head closer to his body and tearing through it like a single-troll battering ram.

“Branch,” she whispered again, the sound trailing into a low moan, not unlike his own- but he didn’t respond, not even with a growl- not until she let go of his mane so she could gingerly touch the trembling wing.

The limb flinched and Branch went stiff under her for a moment, soft warning hiss audible even through the loudness of the storm- and though he didn’t stop his swimming, Poppy withdrew her hand as if burned, realizing that now perhaps wasn’t the best time to find out where his hurts were coming from.

“I’m sorry,” her apology was quick and strained ,“I’m sorry, Branch, I’m sorry-“ and the water was now blurring her vision, and perhaps it was her tears and not the rain, and perhaps her ill timed touch was not what she was apologizing for.

But Branch suddenly made a soft chuff, and his head twisted to peer back at her, the lamp like glow of his red eyes more comforting than one would expect. But Poppy hardly felt unnerved by the sight of them- not when she couldn’t feel any drop of malice, and the pink troll heaved a shuddering breath, bowing forward so she could reach and gently rub one of the Beast’s long ears. The appendage flicked, and his eyes blinked slowly, another chuff falling from his lips, before he turned to face forward again, his swimming seemingly becoming more determined.

Poppy swallowed and closed her eyes, her exhale a tad less shaky than before.

They will be okay. They have to be.

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

We know God's view, but how do the other archangels feel about lilith

Romance is a blanket rather alien idea, so none of them really understand it enough to 'approve' of Lilith or not as a partner, so I'm going to mostly talk about how they relate to her directly

All of their feelings are built on a mutual "what the FUCK is wrong with her??" because they are ancient angels with obedience and deference carved inside their hollow bones and her favourite activity is sacrilege

Micheal - Stuck between respect for her from a leadership position and absolute appallment at her just incredible acts of blasphemy. He doesn't like humans in general, it's not personal, he respects all of Father's creations - he makes orderly things that slot together perfectly and that makes working with people difficult. He holds the least amount of resentment against her for the fall, considering Lucifer fully responsible for his own actions... when he's not racked with guilt and anger at himself.

They are mostly just two leaders of rivals kingdoms trying to out politics each other, and occasionally they have 'Respectless' moments where Michael calls her a nobody who only shit talks his Dad out of fear of her insignificance in the face of divine and she calls him a pathetic talentless Nepo baby scared of making choices

Raphael - neutral honestly, couldn't care much for the specifics the situation but Do you understand the eons they spent on that fucking Garden's ecosystem?? They are an advocate for peaceful resolution but are nearly as loyal as Michael without any of the self awareness and just, don't recognize violence committed by Heaven as real violence. So they see Lilith's threatening air and manipulative tendencies as random and uncalled for.

Just, too well meaning in the harm they cause for Lilith's trust issues to deal with.

Uriel - Was a very close friend to her pre-fall, would spent hours toying with questions and hypotheticals together, there weren't a lot of angels as curious as Uriel was. Turning her feelings of betrayal very personal when it comes to them.

They don't talk much anymore. Uriel distanced themselves from matters of Earth and Hell after the fall. Preferring to keep to the archives and stars. Sorta childhood friends where one out grew the other.

Gabriel - They want to fight her. They are very protective of humanity and she will not be interfering with her she-demonic-ness. Also on a proving themselves pursuit and 1v1ing the queen of hell seems like an effective way to do that. Michael won't let them.

Still bitter about being tricked when they were supposed on guard in Eden. (the six reminding archangels still get into huge blowout fights about who's fault(other than lucifer's) the apple incident was)

Jophiel is going to fucking throttle her brother, the things she could done with Lilith if she hadn't got banished, the potential humanity had. That was her magnum opus. Holy Shit.

In some ways they are very close, she spent nearly as much time with Joph as with Lucifer, she genuinely admires her, in others Joph cant really see past the pieces and creation that make Lilith up and she hates it. They are, very messy.

Zadkiel hates her like God does with none of His nuance as a nemesis. You would never be able to tell by talking to them or watching them interact with her, they are very reserved. Zadkiel is just like that with heretics and also really looked up to Lucifer. They want her dead but since she isn't, trusts Father must have His reasons.

Their true hostility comes out at the weirdest times.

[yuseirra]

On the other hand, she disappeared. The warmth of conversations repeated with my partner Easily turned into hatred in my mind.

In that moment, my consciousness surged, My head filled with an overwhelming amount Of calculations that felt like they would never end.

This is the "transformation of human tissue." Doesn't the color in those sharp, clear eyes Seem almost monstrous?

I'll draw it just like I did back then, "Like you and me."

I’ll never forgive—if there was a bright future, It was all taken away from that day onward.

As if to confirm my own existence, today, once again—

Let’s start the experiment, with a countdown. Shall we open that door, just one more time?

I've been listening to Dead and Seek as I draw this guy(check the link..why am I convinced that what's happened to him is EXACTLY like what the song's story goes. Please give that song a listen, it's very cool!!)

I watched the part where he appears and his eyes are actually REALLY LIGHT compared to what I thought it'd be?? That'd mean his eyes were originally of a bright hue, hey, could it really be that it were to be a different color before having shifted into this current lavender? IT COULD HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN GOLDEN..I can't give up on that because it works with his name you know???;; what if it really got tainted into that color?

ALSO!!!! HE IS THE GUY WHO'S BEEN MAKING THE WISH:

"I want to see you" in Mephisto!!!!!!! "I want to get closer to the only Ai" in Fatal!!! HE HAD HIMSELF THE WISH TO MEET AI AND BECOME CLOSER TO HER!!! THAT'S WHY HE KEPT TALKING ABOUT WISHES WHEN HE MET HIS CHILDREN!! HE WAS WORKING TO MAKE THAT A REALITY!!! HE MADE THAT WISH "UPON A STAR"! And that star must have somehow given him the idea that he could achieve just that if he did whatever he was doing, that's why he couldn't stop!!!

He's all like: "If life returns to you, if it reaches you I don't care what happens to me" (Mephisto)

"Without you, I cannot live anymore I would sacrifice anything for you"(Fatal)

RIGHT??? RIGHT???? WELL, THAT'S WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING!! HE WANTED AI TO LIVE!! HE WANTED TO GIVE EVERYTHING HE HAD FOR HER SAKE AND THE STAR GAVE HIM FALSE HOPE!!! or maybe if he did go through with it Ai could have been brought back in a way, so that's why he was all like he can't die now or that there's something he must still do. He realized Ai loved him back so, I guess that made him even more extreme in the recent eps because it made him even more desperate, Ai did so much for him...he doesn't care about his life you know?? He was already good as being dead after she passed. I think THAT'S what's been happening regarding Kamiki. I don't think it makes sense any other way. He wanted Ai back..he thought he killed her and was overridden with guilt after it and wanted to do something to reverse it. And the way I see it, something took advantage of his feelings and caused him to grow insane and drift apart from his innate tender self.

[v3nusxsky]

Can you do a, Wandanat X Agere fem reader?

Maybe reader djdnt want to regress, due to the amount of missions they were getting, and she accidently messes up in a mission and Fury yells at her for it, and she regressed in her room later that night, and Wanda and Natasha find her? And reader has thus toy dog she loses snd they have to find it to calm her down?? Fluff after that.

Agere, fluff, hurt, and comfort. I believe that's what you requested.

If not, no problem, I love all your writing!!!

Sorry if it's really specific, I'm nervous when it comes to requesting

Sun,moon and stars

*Authors note~ long time no see guys! I've missed posting. Been a little scared to start back up bc of the hate and my accident really threw me for a while but here we go. Thanks to the support of my friends and my lovely girlfriend @just-your-casual-nerd I’m going to be starting with Agere for the pure reason it's less taxing on my body and brain. Smut angst etc will come when I'm a little better*

Trigger warnings~ regression little r mama and momma wandanat loss of comfort item angry fury? Sight angry Nat?

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

The past few weeks had really been insane for you, you were either on missions or filling out the paperwork from your previous missions. You'd hardly seen your girlfriends due to this, which meant the idea of allowing yourself to regress was definitely out the window. You couldn't afford to mess up the missions, exposing your secret to the team. A lot of the time it was truly hard to admit you coped this way, but Wanda and Nat seemed to love helping you through it. Not everyone is accepting of it though, you learnt that very early on in your life. Perhaps that's why you felt the need to hide.

After a recent mission with Steve, Tony and Peter you were all on the way back to the compound when Steve told you. Fury wanted to see you immediately upon landing. You instantly knew why, your gaze flickering over to Peter who was cradling his arm. It was an accident really, you didn't mean to. Your brain blanking at the wrong time allowing one of the Hydra guards to twist Peters arm painfully. His cries of pain clearing the fog that littered your brain when you needed to slip. You'd apologised time and time again to Peter and he reassured you he wasn't mad. But no matter how much he said it you knew you'd messed up. The reason he would be taken to med bay was because you weren't strong enough to stay big. Guilt eating away at you, you weren't sure how much worse Fury could make you feel.

Apparently it could get worse, the guilt eating away at you as Fury laid into you about how reckless you were, your behaviour resulting in Peters injuries meant you were suspended from the field. His exact wording was something like "till we can figure out how to fix you!" You did your best to stay silent and remain strong, crying was not something you wished to do in front of him. You don't need fixing just a break really but you knew better than to respond like that, instead opting to flee his office and head to the safety of your shared room before breaking down.

You'd missed dinner, that was why Wanda and Natasha began searching for you. They knew the mission didn't go as well as wanted so they figured you'd want space to process like normal, but you never missed dinner. You love wanda's cooking too much for that. After checking your usual spots, they headed to your room. There you were curled up with dried tear strains on your cheeks, the room around you trashed to high hell. Clearly, you were looking for something but what would you be looking for badly enough to do this? "Nat, she's" Wanda trailed off as your thoughts were loud, "Little." Now everything made so much sense. You were looking for Pup Pup.

You must have regressed alone and being unable to find your beloved pup pup, you'd cried yourself to sleep. It was truly heartbreaking to see, as your caregivers, you hadn't found one of them and were alone in such a vulnerable mind set. Your whimpers as tears began to fall again worried Wanda enough to check on your dream. Only where she would witness you reliving how Fury shouted at you, saying you needed to be fixed. Your whole body shook with the second hand fear from the dream. Both girls knew you didn't like being shouted at or anything that was loud.

"Nat, Fury, he ripped into her about Peter" Wanda whispered before going to kneel next to your body. Her hand finding your cheeks as she brushed your tears away mumbling words of comfort, "it's okay dekta (baby) momma is here." The red head assassin gave Wanda a quick nod before exiting to find Fury. She wasn't having you being treated like this when they'd been overworking you and in general ignoring your own well-being. This wouldn't ever happen again because Natasha would make sure of it.

"Momma?" You sleepily sobbed before throwing yourself into her awaiting arms, "founds me!" You cried causing her heart to shatter slightly. "That's right my darling. I have you now. Why are we sad love bug?" It was adorable how your brows joined and you scrunched your nose up in thought, "Pup Pup gones!" You gasped as if you'd only just realised that Pup Pup was missing now. You appeared to be regressed a lot smaller than you normally would. The girls were use to you regressing to about five years old, but based of this interaction Wanda guessed you were about two to three years old. "We will find your Pup Pup bug."

"Mama!" You pouted noticing her absence. "Shh love bug mana is just finishing up with work and she'll be here, how bout you and momma go on a hunt for Pup Pup?" Wandas soothing tone and her redirection to your beloved Pup Pup. Hand in hand you and Wanda set out to find the ragged looking stuffie that you'd had since you were found by Hydra. The only thing they'd let you keep at a price and you cherished it. It didn't take long for your little brain to become overwhelmed and frustrated at your inability to find the stuffie.

"Momma! No finds! Gones! Want mama! I sorry I be good give Pup Pup me now?" You sobbed clumsily clinging to her as you cried for you two lost loves. "You are good my love bug, so so good. We are gonna find your Pup Pup I promise." She hushed you as the bedroom door opened and a very satisfied Natasha came into the room. "моя маленькая принцесса (my little princess) look who mama found малыш (baby)" her sing song voice caught your attention as you knew it was only for you. "Pup Pup!!" You cried happily coming to hold the stuffie, "frank you mama!"

"You're so welcome дорогой (darling), shall we all go get a snack baby?" You nodded enthusiastically until you remembered Fury's words, "Nahuh mama" you mumbled sadly, "I'm bad, no eat when bad." This time both women came to your side and showered you with reassurance and love that you were not bad. And Peter wasn't mad at you. Fury was in the wrong to go off at you like that and you were safe with them. They wouldn't let any harm come yo you. In fact you could eat in the bedroom cuddled up together. They just wanted to care for you, so you eventually relented, your little brain not holding much room to fight so you happily settled into bed snuggling up to Natasha's chest while you waited for Wanda to return with food. Before Wanda could even return you'd passed out on Nat, Natasha looking at you with such a loving gaze Wanda felt truly too blessed to be witnessing it. Truly you deserved the sun, moon and the stars, and both women wanted to give you all that and more.

Word count~ 1354

[organ-market]

Unconventional Detective Games

Return of the Obra Dinn, 2018

The maritime mystery game Return of the Obra Dinn by Lucas Pope is almost entirely subversive for a detective game. Everything in the game from its core premise to  hyper stylized presentation, is all ambitious and experimental. Every person aboard the Obra Dinn has mysteriously died and you assume the role of an insurance investigator piecing together the horrific events using a magic watch that delivers to you a front seat viewing of a vignette of each person’s demise. Using these dioramas of death, you are charged with recording the manner of death of each and each crewmember and passenger aboard the ship.

Return of the Obra Dinn and its addictively satisfying detective puzzle gameplay left me hungry for more. Playing the game instilled in me a deep love for a good mystery and a desire to solve them. While I love games like Disco Elysium, which stars detectives as its protagonists, the investigation was never really the point. Moreover, a love for the unconventional detective was entrenched in my heart and as an interactive medium, video games are perfect for aspiring would-be detectives.

Overboard! , 2021

The year is 1935, aboard the S.S. Hook, Veronica Villensy throws her husband overboard under the foggy shade of night. In Inkle’s devilishly clever puzzle/visual novel, Overboard! you have eight hours before reaching the ports of New York and in that limited time you must relieve yourself from suspicion and guilt for your husband’s death at any cost. It’s a sort of anti-detective puzzle about getting away with murder which forces you to learn your fellow passenger’s schedules, plant evidence, and be consistently careful with your language lest your words betray you much later.

The DNA of time loop games such as Majora’s Mask and The Sexy Brutale is woven into the gameplay loop of Overboard! It’s a fairly short game taking around 2-3 hours to finish the story but at the benefit of allowing an immense amount of player agency. There is a wide variety of solutions to evading the mighty hand of justice, you are free to travel around the ship on a whim with no direction from the game itself. The only hint system is visiting the chapel and praying to God which is both cleverly diegetic and hilarious.

The nonlinearity of your objective incentivizes logical thinking and experimentation. The puzzle is rewarding much like learning each map and NPC routines in the Hitman: World of Assassination trilogy is. At first you clumsily trip over your words when Major Singh interrogates you but eventually you can get away with murder in style along with netting some pocket money from the life insurance if you pull it all off just right!

The nonlinearity of each puzzle in Overboard! is incredibly refreshing, it just feels organic and natural. Going achievement hunting in this game is its own little puzzle and I still haven’t figured out some of the little secrets it hides from us. It’s a game I can’t put down and haven’t yet been able to stop thinking about and I really recommend giving it a shot since it’s only $15 and only $6 if you catch it on sale.

Pentiment, 2022

Obsidian Entertainment’s Pentiment was my favorite game of 2022 and enraptured me for long nights as I obsessed over its rich dialogue and gorgeous medieval illumination manuscript inspired art. So much love and research was put into the historical setting, it takes place in 16th Century Bavaria within the town of Tassing is filled with life and character. You play as Andreas Maler, an artist working in an abbey on a hill and whilst attempting to finish your masterpiece, your co-worker and friend, Brother Piero, is falsely accused of the murder of a wealthy Baron who was staying in town. You are sprung into action as you only have a limited amount of time to clear Brother Piero’s name.

You are given a limited amount of time to wander around town, attempting to conduct interviews, deduce motives, and eventually gather enough evidence to bring the culprit to justice. Because of the impending trial, time is ever so precious in Pentiment and you will never have enough time to do everything you want at your leisure. Every moment dwelling on conversation or recreation is time you could have spent digging for answers. In order to pin a suspect you must hone in on what you think is most beneficial for your case like a true detective.

Brother Piero’s freedom is always at the cost of another’s conviction, in Pentiment you must push the blame onto someone else. During your investigations, you find that Sister Matilda, a nun at the abbey, had been assaulted by the late Baron many years ago. This is one of the clearest motives in the game but most physical evidence points in other directions, all the while every nun in the abbey will assure you of her innocence.

Saint John's Eve Festival Bonfire

Convincing the archdeacon (the head of the trial) of Sister Matilda’s guilt is perhaps the easiest of all the suspects to accomplish and Pentiment will not tell you outwardly that Matilda didn’t do it but it doesn’t have to. In a clever subversion, the game never tells you if you caught the culprit in the end. Pentiment, brilliantly, left me to wonder if I made the right choices as the totality of the lethal consequences of my actions weighed on my mind. You can easily convince the archdeacon of someone’s guilt but are you able to convince yourself?

The brutality of the executions should not be understated. You look on helplessly as someone you convicted meets an unwieldy end as they plead, cry, and eventually die. The executioner’s sword rises and falls as it lodges itself into the neck again and again until the head breaks free from the neck. Whether you like it or not, your choices matter in Pentiment and the consequences stare you down with a harsh disposition.

While playing Pentiment I was continually reminded of a line from Rian Johnson’s murder mystery film Knives Out. The titular detective Benoit Blanc (he’s so me by the way) notes that, “...the complexity and the gray lie not in the truth but what you do with the truth once you have it.” The complexity of truth is captured beautifully by Pentiment. In many regards it is a conventional mystery but by weaponizing the player’s need for clear answers it infected my mind for many hours after the credits rolled along with the minds of many others. There are fierce debates and chatter surrounding who really did the killing. Pentiment wasn’t as well talked about as it deserved, with all the games releasing it was overlooked by most. Well, it isn’t exactly for everyone but for the price of $20 it gave me a wealth of dialogue to mull over and wonder about.

Phasmophobia, 2022

A multiplayer ghost hunting spookfest is not exactly what you’d think of when discussing detective games but Kinetic Game’s Phasmophobia is deeply investigative by nature. Intense inspection is at the beating heart of the game with an important twist. Where ordinarily a detective chases after a suspect after the fact, here your suspect is reacting to your every move and can (and will) kill you on a whim. In the game you and up to three other friends venture into a haunted house and gather evidence and clues to determine which of the twenty four ghosts in the game is currently residing in your location. 

You and your team will wander out of the safety of your van and into cold, darkened rooms to find clues by checking thermometers, speaking into spirit boxes, and throwing salt all over the floor in hopes of getting the ghost to step in it. Not only can you gather evidence with your camera and UV lights but another layer in your investigation is the behavior of the ghost. Knowing how aggressive each ghost is or how fast it is, is a tremendous asset in your deductive arsenal. The more you know, the more you can whittle the possibilities down until you have your culprit.

But finding the ghost and gathering evidence is just one thing, surviving the ghost is another. Being in the dark and bearing witness to paranormal activity will deplete your sanity and eventually the ghost will target you for a hunt. The front door slamming shut marks the beginning of a hunt, the ghost will manifest physically and chase you down and kill you if you don’t hide in time.

Corpse of my friend, deceased. Moments before I run out of the house in terror.

Phasmophobia is a dangerous balancing act of facing your fears by delving into the darkness in order to find clues and trying desperately to find the ghost type as fast as you can so you can get the hell out of there. The reactivity of the ghost keeps you on edge as you wander the halls gathering data. Speaking into the spirit box may prompt a raspy whisper into your ear or the candle you just lit may be blown out moments after. More interestingly though, is the voice recognition AI that takes advantage of the communication players rely upon. Everything from saying you’re scared to a simple curse word can lead to the ghost favoring you as prey. Even players who stay in the van for too long get targeted by the ghost!

Within Phasmophobia is one of the most unique investigative experiences on the market and definitely a one of a kind multiplayer experience. The comfort of having a buddy to share your terrors with is stripped away when they stop responding to your radio! It’s truly unlike anything I’ve ever played and the developers are constantly updating it, two big thumbs up from the afterlife. 

The satisfaction from my first time getting away with murder in Overboard! and the despair when I find out I had the ghost type completely wrong in Phasmophobia are some of my most memorable experiences in gaming! And Pentiment proved to be one of the most well written games I’ve had the pleasure of reading. I sincerely hope you check them out if you haven’t already! They’re all pretty cheap anyway. And once again begging for recommendations in the comments/reblogs so if you know any good, and hopefully weird, detective games let me know! Thanks in advance everyone and I’ll catch you on the flip side :P

-Ghost Emoji 👻

[bahbahhh]

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps.

zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [first] [ ao3 ]

Again, big shout out to my beta reader @zeldaelmo who is an amazing writer for the LoZ fandom and is posting for zelink week as well. I had the pleasure of returning the favor for this totk zelink oneshot and absolutely recommend it.

chapter 2

for the prompt “forbidden”

Link’s just publicly recommended they destroy the most valuable resources available for the restoration of Hyrule and Zelda has no idea how to save him. 

Everyone just stares, and with the company they find themselves in, it may as well be the very eyes of Hyrule itself that are on him. Zelda can’t find her breath. She’s back in Blatchery Plain, drenched in rain and despair, surrounded by a swarm of corrupted guardians. Link faced a sea of eyes then, too. He stands with his back to her, just like he does now, and she watches his silhouette light up with constellations of crimson. 

He’s about to be blown to pieces right in front of her. 

She starts to raise her hand to protect him like she did that day, only to remember she hasn’t felt the hum of power, nevermind summoned the glow of golden light to her fingertips, since they destroyed the Calamity six months ago. She’s a star burnt out with nothing to show of her once formidable brilliance, but an ugly scar on her hand.

“All of it?” Impa asks, calmly.

Link nods. 

“Even the Divine Beasts?”

“Especially those,” he asserts.  

He has yet to make eye contact with Zelda again since the smile; that red herring of a smile that had her daydreaming while he nocked a kill shot. She gives up on trying to summon his gaze with her mind and glances desperately at Impa. The keeper of their histories, a guardian of lost tapestries and lessons of the past, a voice of reason in the hundred year storm—

But Zelda sees none of the women she thought she knew in the way Impa considers him. She’s got her head tilted pensively, like she might actually be contemplating what Link has said, which is impossible because he is suggesting they dismantle all the ancient relics of her people. 

Impa rotates her gaze out to the crowd and extends her hands to welcome the discussion, looking like a statue of the Goddess herself. Zelda’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach with a splash. She wants to scream, at both of them, but the continued and calm silence of the crowd is starting to feel less like they are preparing to strike and more like Link’s found the hidden door they’ve all been searching for. An emotional outburst could compromise the cogendy of any argument she might make. 

Goddess, she can still hear her father’s voice in her head after all these years. 

“Where would it all go?” Reede finally asks. 

Link crosses his arms over his chest, thinks about it for a half a second –1 like they are talking about something as simple as mending a pasture fence – and offers, “Sheikah Slate has a limitless inventory. Load it all into the Slate and then get rid of it.”

“How do you suppose we do that?” 

“Smash it with a hammer?” 

Purah gasps. “That would be such a waste, Linky! We still haven’t unlocked a quarter of the Slate’s potential.”

“You’ll build something better.” 

“Like what?” Robbie says, visibly shaken and pale.

‘That’s your thing, isn’t it?’ Link signs.

“If I may, wouldn’t destroying the Sheikah Technology prolong restoration efforts?” says Hudson of Tarrey Town. 

Link nods. 

“Did you yourself not benefit from the technology during your travels?” Traysi asks in a strangely formal tone. She lifts a pen and paper out of her lap without looking away from Link.  

He shrugs and Traysi’s expression sinks. She must be remembering he’s Hyrule’s worst interview subject. She rolls her shoulders back and tries again. 

“Wasn’t it Sheikah Technology that saved you from death?” 

An unbearable amount of guilt seethes out from wounds deep inside Zelda. Questions she’ll never feel brave enough to voice echo in the silence that follows Traysi’s: Did I make the right call? Is it what you wanted me to do? She can’t see his face, but she imagines it is unsettlingly neutral, as it always is in crucial moments of outrageous tension.  

Do you resent me for what I did? She’s screaming inside her head, glaring at the back of his skull. Unbearable heat swirls in her chest like dragon’s breath. You must! Just say you do! 

“It trapped his soul inside his body,” King Dorephan says.

Link’s body flinches. It’s microscopic. Zelda only catches it because she’s so focused on him, but she sees it, and pain blooms in the very center of her chest. 

“Mipha’s soul was trapped inside Vah Ruta after all these years, too.” King Dorephan continues. He is a monolith of a presence and yet, when he speaks about his late daughter, somehow, he’s transformed into something smaller and broken. This is the price of a long life. The Rito who flew with Revali, the Gerudo who marched with Urbosa, the Gorons who laughed with Daruk; they have all since passed. If there is grief, it is distant and therefore, instinctively more bearable. Only the Sheikah can begin to relate and still, with the Champions, the Zora stand alone. Zelda’s here. The Sheikah’s Princess returned.

The title suddenly feels too heavy again. 

“Father, her body was gone,” Prince Sidon says gently. He has tears in his eyes. Unapologetically emotional as ever, and instead of responding with rage or shame, the great King of the Zora places a hand on Sidon’s shoulders. His eyes, set beneath the mighty crown of his people, swim with tears as well. 

Zelda wilts with envy. 

“The Zora second Link’s motion to destroy all Sheikah Technology.”

“We-we would be forfeiting artifacts that have withstood the test of time and have proven immensely useful,” Robbie proclaims. For the first time, he looks his age. Shaking where he stands, shoulders crested with fatigue, his hands braced on the back of Purah’s chair.  

“When they function properly,” Teba’s chimes in. He has the kind of call that booms across the Tabantha sky. A few Ritos whistle in consensus. “Vah Medoh terrorized our people for decades. Too many Rito warriors took their final dive after it claimed the sky for the Calamity.” 

“It didn’t get you though, Dad,” Tulin says. 

Teba grins, “Right. Thanks to Link. Kaneli?”

“The Rito soar with Link.” Kaneli flashes his massive wingspan. “Destroy it all.” 

“Forget a hammer, the Gorons will take care of anything that needs smashing,” Bludo grunts.

Yubuno clenches his fists and blows out a sphere of molten light around him. “Yeah, goro! We got this!”

“We passed many guardians and shrines during the march here from the desert. They are a map of tremendous loss across Hyrule. The Gerudo cannot remember a time when this technology was useful. We only know its devastation. It is time to let the past go. Hyrule is ready to move forward.” Riju sets her hands on her hips and nods in Link’s direction. 

“Our research…we would be throwing it all away!” Purah cries, and like Robbie, she’s looking her age. Six and completely devastated the grown ups are planning to take away her favorite toy.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Purah, Robbie, but weren’t the shrines and the Slate originally created specifically for Link? For the chosen hero?” Impa asks.

“Yes, that is correct,” Robbie says.

“And we all believe Calamity Ganon is finally vanquished, yes?” Impa turns to look at the crowd. 

“Mipha’s Grace.” One of the elder Zora crosses his fins at the same time Buliara and the other Gerudo soldiers raise their spears. Teba whistles and the Hylian’s offer the sign of the Goddess with their hands. It is a resounding and unanimous ‘good riddance’. 

“So, with this in mind, have the shrines and the Slate not served their purpose?”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Robbie says. Purah starts pouting. Zelda can see the defeat starting to take root around the Sheikah researchers. Feels it starting to wrap around her own ankles. She feathers a hand up to touch the spot where her voice is trapped in her throat. All those years resisting her father’s guidance and now, it’s the one thing keeping her from damning herself. To this group, so revitalized by new hope, united and rising from a hundred years of ruin, her proposal of clinging to their ashes might feel like poison. 

Like malice.

“I know it feels like a waste, dear sister. Robbie. But I ask that you both consider the possibility this is not another squandering of our efforts.”

“It’s the fulfillment of them.” Paya’s voice is exceptionally steady. She folds her hands over Robbie’s and helps him peel back his fingers from the back of Purah’s chair. 

“The Zora will continue to look to the Sheikah for guidance,” Sidon says.

“It would be foolish to ignore the knowledge of the Sheikah,” Kaneli agrees.

“Like Link said, this is our opportunity to build something new for Hyrule.” Yubono pumps his fist in the air.

“Something better,” Riju adds.

“We will all have a hand in rebuilding Hyrule. From the ground up this time.” Hudson rubs his hands together like he’s ready to get started.

Tulin lets out a cheer. His voice is youthful and hopeful and infectious. The perfect song for the future of Hyrule. A few out Rito echo him and then the Gerudo join in. Then the Gorons, and the Zora and the Hylians. Impa holds her arms out to Purah and both she and Robbie lunge forward to embrace her. Link claps a few times and then finally looks over his shoulder at Zelda. His eyes are brighter than luminous stones.

He has no idea what he’s done. 

The smile was just a smile. A pathetically desperate misinterpretation on her part. He smiles because he’s polite, not because she’s something special or they are together in any of this. 

Link died on the field that day. And with him–

The pages slip from her hands. Her proposal scatters across the grass at her feet. 

She scurries to gather them up and Link immediately takes a knee to help her. Zelda snatches the pages back into her chest and recoils like the wounded animal she is. He blinks at her, a wordless question forming on his lips. The hand outstretched for the pages turns over slowly to offer his palm to her. He’s trying to help her up without any idea he’s the one who put her here.

“What says the Princess of new Hyrule?” It's Traysi’s voice. Probably ready with her pen, eager to draft a report and spit the plan for the restoration out to the Rumor Mill by sunset. 

Her hands are shaking. Dozens of eyes on her, fire in her throat, nothing but a scar on her hand. She glances down at the mark, a nameless cluster of triangles. In stasis, she decided they represented the holy Springs. For a time, she held all three in her hand, but Courage and Power only flowed through her. For some reason, predetermined by fate that has proven nothing but cruel, she is the vessel for Wisdom. 

And Wisdom tells Zelda her thoughts have no value. They never have.  She looks around at the faces of her people. Unknowingly, they’ve not only stolen her newfound sense of purpose–they are making it forbidden. 

And now they are asking for her blessing. 

She swallows what feels like acid and looks back at Link. At some point in her reeling, she’s risen to her feet without realizing it. He remains on his knees, looking up at her with an innocent tilt of confusion, Master Sword strapped to his back. Her body blocks out the sun and casts a looming shadow over his face. The pasture falls away from her. She’s surrounded by cascades of water and trees twisted with age and swarms of fireflies. Beneath her feet, an altar with a space for a traveler’s gift lifts her even higher above him. Zelda tries to keep the horror from washing over her face, but the restraint necessary only makes her feel like she might turn into stone. 

Is it a crown they want her to wear or a halo?

Zelda gathers herself and says the only thing she can summon from the depths of her panic, “May the Light of the Goddess shine upon you.”

—-

The Summit lasts four days. Link has all of the shrines, towers, and the majority of the remaining guardians already mapped out on the Slate, so it is only a matter of divvying up the work. Each group is responsible for their assigned regions and are free to do what they please with the guardian parts once the cores are removed. The Gerudo and the Zora verbalize their intent to destroy all the Sheikah tech in their territories, but the Gorons, Rito, and the Hylians (who stand the most to gain from recycled materials) plan to repurpose. 

The plan is to harvest the ancient cores and store them in the Slate. Link will travel across Hyrule to load the cores into Slate, along with any unwanted materials it has the capacity to absorb.  Once the guardians are taken care of and they figure out how to dismantle the shrines, they’ll destroy the Sheikah Slate, smother the ancient furnaces, and bury the Divine Beasts. They will reconvene as needed to collectively approve next steps. The Sheikah are tasked with what to do with the towers because everyone agrees there is value in preserving a modern mapping system as long as a new network is created.

It is Link’s task to figure out how to handle the shrines since he is the only one who can enter them. He disappears into the shrine near his house the first night only to emerge several hours later, circling it like a wolf. He eventually settles down and appears to just glare at the terminal until the sun rises. He does the same thing the following night and the night after that. Zelda knows this because she’s been watching him from Purah’s second floor window.

Seeing him struggle with it doesn’t make her feel better (okay, it helps a little), and it’s hard to stay upset when she sees how well-received his recommendation is; how necessary it feels for the rest of Hyrule to start planning their future. It’s just when this anger completely deflates, she knows she’ll be left to deal with what actually lies beneath it, as is often the case with her anger, and it’s a sorrow she’s afraid she will drown in. 

“He’s still at it?” Zelda jumps back from the window at the sound of Purah’s voice. 

“What? Link? I wasn’t–” Zelda sputters.

Purah waves her tiny hands and tip toes across the floor to a desk. “Don’t worry about it. He’s a fascinating subject.”

“Why are you up so late?” Zelda wraps her arms around herself. Purah gets a guilty look, but as Zelda draws closer, she hears a soft, excited hum coming from the researcher. Like Zelda’s presence alone lit some internal fuse and Purah is on the verge of bursting into sparkles. 

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

Zelda knows this is a dangerous game, Purah used to say the same thing a hundred years ago, right before she launched into an explanation as to why the western castle wall was damaged, again.

“Did you break something?”

“No!” Purah sets her fists in her hips, insulted. 

“Are you going to?” 

“Princess!”

Zelda lifts her eyebrows. 

“Come on, do you want to see what I’m working on or not.” Purah stomps her feet very softly in an exaggerated manner, obviously trying to keep the noise level down. 

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

“Pinky promise! I mean it, I need you to have my back like old times. You were the only reason my research didn’t get shut down back then.”

“It was threatened.” Zelda smiles at the avalanche of memory that befalls her. It didn’t feel funny at the time, – lying to her father, tempting his wrath – but it felt good to protect something she was equally as passionate about. 

“I know.” Purah rolls her eyes. 

“Multiple times.”

“I know! So, so, so?” Purah holds up her pinky and wiggles it at Zelda. Zelda rolls her shoulders back and sighs. 

“Okay, pinky promise,” she says and loops her finger with Purah’s. 

Purah flings open a wide drawer filled with blueprints. She throws the top half of pages to the floor with enthusiasm, mumbling about how Symin can pick them up later, and rummages around the rest with a hushed frenzy. Zelda spots a copy of the new Hyrule map from the Summit with the restoration territories outlined. Purah’s already marked all the Sheikah tower locations and made notes on possible spots for relocation.

Even she’s found a purpose in the path forward. 

Purah fans out the papers hidden at the very bottom of the drawer out on her desk. “I’ve expedited my experiments with the Anti-Aging Rune. I just want to reverse this,” she gestures to herself extravagantly, “and then they can do whatever they want with the Sheikah Slate.”

“You’re going to return to your original state? You’ll be over a hundred and–”

“No. I just want to look old enough so people stop telling me I need to take a nap whenever I raise my voice.” A beat. “And I want to be able to reach the jar Symin hides the honey candies in.”

Zelda scans over Purah’s design, which calls for the Guidance Stone, the Sheikah Slate, and something called ‘cellular maturity milestone marker’ coding. 

“Does Impa know you're working on this?”

“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than seek permission, Princess. And besides, I’ve already got ideas for a better Slate with an even better name, so that should buy me a royal pardon if I need it, right?” 

As if Zelda holds any authority in any of this. 

Zelda backs away from Purah’s desk and the ugly feelings of jealousy starting to bubble up inside her. She ends up back at the window and turns her face to the cool night air. Link’s pacing in front of the Shrine again. 

“Do you think he’ll figure it out?” Zelda asks.

“The shrines? Yes.”

“He’s always been good at puzzles.”

“Yeah, but so have you. Aren’t you going to help him?” Purah quips innocently. With the way her hushed voice carries in the night, it’s like she's speaking from Zelda’s shoulder.  

—-

Zelda hasn’t spoken to him since the first day. If he’s noticed, he hasn’t made it known. He’ll occasionally catch her eye and smile, but she’s learned not to read into that anymore and hardens herself to any tenderness that attempts to sidetrack her thoughts.

Purah asks her to retrieve the Sheikah Slate from Link when he’s done with it so she can run a trial on the Anti-Aging Rune before Symin wakes up. If nothing else, it gives Zelda an excuse to wander down to the shrine while she’s still deciding if she wants to help him. 

He’s sitting cross-legged on the terminal gate with his chin in his hand when she approaches. The Master Sword lays unsheathed beside him. Weathered and dull, unable to glimmer even in the moonlight. Like her, it hasn’t glowed since the final battle.

It takes a second for him to return from wherever his thoughts are, but she can tell he’s been aware of her somehow since she started climbing the hill up to the shrine. He paws his chin with his fingers and then flops backward in the grass at her feet with a frustrated sigh. 

“Can’t figure it out?” She asks. 

He puffs some hair into his bangs and signs, ‘Not yet.’

She sits down beside him. “Do you think there is a core inside?”

He crinkles his nose and shakes his head.

“You told me you think the Shrines, like Divine Beasts, run on some kind of spirit-based energy, right?”

He nods. 

“But when you clear a Shrine, the spirit of the Sheikah Monk inside disappears?”

“Right.” Link sits up on his elbows and rolls his head around his shoulders.

“But the Shrine stays semi-active, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t that imply a power source remains?”

Link shrugs. Zelda follows the curls of cerulean along the walls of the shrine up to the peak where the Sheikah Eye glows. The symbol always brought her comfort. The presence of a friend, the company of like minds—a buffer of protection against the unbearable amount of pressure building on her shoulders since the day she turned seven. But the symbol feels different now, as most symbols tend to do with time. It doesn’t bring her much comfort. It’s just another thing from her past she has to let go of; the sign of something else evolving without her. 

It stares unblinking and focused on some distance point she can’t see. 

He taps her on the shoulder to pull her attention back to him. A tiny pulse of electricity moves from his fingers down into her belly when he seems to appraise her face before he signs. 

‘Any ideas?’ He looks tired. Overdue for a visit. She can feel sleep reaching for her as well. Her attention drifts back to the Sheikah Eye and she imagines it closing shut. Resting like they both should. Like she could if she had a bed.

A home. 

“You said you think the Shrines work like the Divine Beasts? So in theory, those stopped working because our friends—” Grief, unexpected and sudden, crackles in her voice. She clears her throat. Pivots. “You can’t use their gifts any longer, right?”

Link flexes his fingers slowly. Like he’s just missing something that keeps passing through his fingers. “I let them go.”

She thinks about what King Dorephan said about the Shrine of Resurrection and Link’s soul. How he had been unable to die because the Shrine kept his soul tethered to his body while the waters healed it.  She thinks about eyes closing and Tulin’s cheering and the sadness that comes with at last fulfilling one’s purpose. 

“Can I see the Slate?” She asks. Link unclips it from his belt and slides it over to her in the grass. Purah would slap him if she saw just how casually he handles it. Zelda wants to tell him to be careful, that Purah might be tall enough to reach his face soon, but she has a pinky promise to keep, and the Slate will be gone before too long, anyway. She weighs it with her hands a few times and then stands to approach the terminal. 

“How do you activate the Shrine if there isn’t a slot?” She feels Link come up beside her. He leans over and mimics holding the Slate over the Sheikah symbol with an empty hand. The hair on her arm stands on end in his closeness. Will this feeling ever go away? Or will it always feel like she is about to be struck by lightning whenever he’s near? 

“Have you ever tried to do it again once the Shrine is activated?”

“No.”

Zelda lifts the Slate up to the terminal. Nothing happens. The shrine glows calm and blue, the door stays shut, the Slate screen blank–as she suspects it would. She bites her cheek and hands the Slate back to him. “You try.”

The second he holds the Slate over the terminal, the light at the center of the Sheikah Eye blinks once, calling the Slate to life. He turns over and inspects the screen. The name of the Shrine, which Zelda assumes is the name of the Sheikah Monk whose soul powered it for thousands of years, has a check mark next to it. She assumes it is because Link completed the trial inside. 

Below the name is a single, pulsing command:

> Rest? &lt;

They snap their heads up to look at each other at the same time. 

Link’s shoulders collapse. An irritated puff air escapes his nose. 

Zelda leans over him, presses her thumb against the word, and watches it dissolve into the darkness of the screen. The steel shifts under her feet, and they immediately scramble off the back of the entryway because the Shrine has started disintegrating around them. Link wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him so his body breaks their fall when they hit the grass.

They watch the last bit of light in the Sheikah symbol disappear into nothing. In a matter of ten seconds, the only evidence the Shrine was ever there is a round footprint of dirt. There are no materials to sort through, no cavern to fill in. She shifts and sits between his bent legs, frantically turning on the Sheikah Slate where, on the digital map of Hyrule, the symbol marking where the Shrine was is completely gone. 

“I…I can’t believe that actually worked!” She laughs, collects herself, holds the Slate out at another angle and laughs again.“You were right about the spirit energy,” she insists. Funeral pires, ashes in the wind, a deliberate letting go; one way or another, a soul needs to be put to rest. Otherwise, it just spins like a windmill blade even after the wind is gone. 

“How did you know?”

“I’m just good at solving puzzles.” Purah deserves a honey candy for reminding her of that. “It will speed the restoration up significantly if that’s all you need to do…” Her voice trails off slowly. He’s got his head next to hers, eyes fixed on the Slate in front of them. It takes everything inside her not to fold back against him, so viciously desperate for touch – for his touch – her hands start to tremble with urgency. The last drop of anger left inside her vanished with the shrine.   And as predicted, the misery left behind is deep and agonizing and it goes by another name:  

Loneliness. 

[sincerely-sofie]

She is washing the blood of a child off her arms.

Twig is washing a child’s blood off her arms.

Tints of red sparsely paint the flow of water and dissipates into the pool. The loud silence of the area is deafening, the sniffles and shaky voices having disappeared when Kip and Ark took the children somewhere away from the dread and fear. The stars and the moon, covered by dark grey clouds, have long since been in the sky, so it’s possible the two are trying to help the kids sleep.

She knows Ark won’t rest for the night — he will tirelessly chase away the nightmares tonight. It’s likely he won’t leave their dreams until the time comes for them to wake. It’s possible this will repeat for several nights.

Twig grits her teeth, scrubbing harder and nearly choking when the water still doesn’t run clear. Blood dyes the downpour of water and the soup has a pinkish tint. It just won’t go away. It won’t-

A green hand pulls her arms away from the water, and she snarls as she comes face to face with Grovyle. His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear the words at first. He keeps repeating himself again and again until-

“Twig, the blood is gone — you’re scrubbing yourself raw.”

Twig blinks, looking down at her flushed, puffy, and sensitive arms. They throb in protest of their recent treatment, and she can suddenly feel the stinging, hissing suffering she put them through. Grovyle’s hold becomes soft when he realizes that she can hear him now, and he gently pulls away as to not cause more discomfort.

“I have some cream that will help with the pain,” he offers softly, looking at her and through her at the same time — something Twig didn’t know was possible. “Do you want some?”

She nods, adding a quiet “thanks, man” as he leads her into another room. Grovyle grabs a tube from a counter and begins to make the gesture from her to hold up her arms, but he stops midway. His eyes, for a moment, are wide and far away. They whisper of the past and not the present, dancing the ballet of guilt. Twig opens her mouth, but he’s back as soon as she does. Gently, he places the tube into her hand and backs away.

“Grovyle-”

“It may sting a bit when you first use it,” he interrupts, not meeting her eyes, “but it’ll feel much better after a few seconds.”

Twig frowns at the wall between them — a wall that she doesn’t know is glass, concrete, or brick. If only she could reach through and pull him away from the painful, guilt-inducing memory that he has trapped himself in, but her muscles and mind are anchored by an unyielding weight of exhaustion. It takes a monument of will just to get her mouth to open, but it shuts as Dusknoir makes his way inside, his hands covered in a vast amount of red. He stares blankly at both of them, unable to stop the words that come out.

“It wasn’t from the dungeon.”

“What?” Twig turns to him, setting the tube of cream to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The wound of concern isn’t from the dungeon,” Dusknoir repeats, far away from them despite being right there. “It’s old.”

Twig bristles, making her way over with defiance shouting with every step, “that doesn’t make sense. There was too much blood for it not to be fresh. It had to be-”

“It reopened.”

Twig’s heart stops and she doesn’t know when it restarts. All she feels is the roaring silence and coldness of dread, only cut through by Dusknoir’s continued explanation.

“She must have sustained this wound not too long ago. It wasn’t looked at by a professional when it should have been. The suture work was abysmal. She sustained injuries from the dungeon and the major wound reopened from the stress and demand of being in such a hostile area. Her recovery will be complicated with the wound being improperly treated and agitated several times. This could have killed her at any moment. Her state, at this moment, is critical and fragile, and-”

“Will she make it?”

Dusknoir pauses, looking up and staring at her as if he just realized she was there. His eye glances away, as it looking for a subtle exit.

“Twig-”

“Answer me,” she pushes Grovyle’s hand aside. “She couldn’t have been able to patch herself up — not where the wound is. Those — those two did this to her. Tell me right now, Dusknoir — is she going to make it?”

Dusknoir looks back at her, and this time he can’t seem to look away or shrink even if he wanted to. He stiffens, then looks down.

“We’re doing everything we can-”

“Dusknoir.”

“-we’re not going to give up on her-”

“GIVE ME AN ANSWER!”

The room shakes with her booming voice, startling both Grovyle and Dusknoir. The ghost type stumbles before recollecting himself, but he can’t stop his eye from trailing down to the floor and the fists shaking at his sides.

“I don’t know.”

••••••

“When we brought you here, a lot of doctors didn’t think you would make it, but then you did. You beat all the odds, Ruby. You don’t know how amazing you are.”

Twig knows the girl can’t hear her. The Zorua has been asleep ever since the start of her recovery, but the peaceful expression on her face as she sleeps is new. The girl’s face is no longer contorted with pain, and her breathing comes soft and deep in her slumber.

“Opal told me a lot about you,” Twig continues. “She told me that you love sweets, you like helping others, how smart you are, how you hate fighting — yet you still did. You fought and you’re still here, and we’re all so glad you did.”

Ruby stirs slightly in her sleep, before falling deeper into her dreams.

“When you wake up,” Twig looks back at the version of her that Grovyle found alone all those years ago. She sees the version of her that broke down in her family’s arms as her pain was ripped into the open for all to see next to that young girl. She sees the fear, guilt, desperation, and pain of her past selves, and with them lays Ruby. “You won’t be alone. You had and always will have Opal, and now you’ll have me, and Ark, and the rest of our kooky family. You can leave the fighting to me, Ark, Kip, Grovyle, Dusknoir, and Celebi then — probably Sen too. She’ll say it’s only to protect Kip, but I think she’s angry on your behalf too. I know it’ll probably be overwhelming to have multiple people that actually care, but I promise it’s worth it in every way. You may not think you deserve it, but you do.”

“I hope I can show you that, just like my family did for me. You won’t be alone ever again — that’s a promise.”

IT IS TOO LATE IN THE DAY TO BE SNIVELING AND SNIFFLING AND BLUBBERING AND BAWLING

Oh my word. Phenomenal writing and characterization, all paired with such heartbreaking storytelling. I love this so much. This is gorgeous work and I absolutely adore it, thank you for this piece!

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Hidden Gems: Less than 150 Kudos

This week, we have one of our recurring rec lists - fics that you might have overlooked. Enjoy 13 fics that involve highly specific AU's, kink, Ludinus being evil, and of course, trips to Aeor. Check them out underneath the cut and of course, remember to comment and kudos if you like them!

Ages Past, Ages Hence by AthenaVine (12589, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Mostly canon-compliant fic series. The slow & careful courtship of Caleb & Essek during their trips to Aeor.

Reccer says: Omniscient perspective & visceral descriptions of the wizards' feelings

I used to hear a simple song by Amiactuallydoingthis (1378, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Meet cute in a university library

Reccer says: I liked it!

inked in skin; etched in bone by QuenaSparquea (56047, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Saving the world for a second time had a way of putting things in perspective. An exploration of magic and relationships in 31 pieces

Reccer says: This collection of interconnected stories sheds light on a slightly AU version of the Mighty Nein, in particular the Shadowhand as he navigates his past while planning for his future.

you must first invent the universe by renquise (3466, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

a snippet of a sci-fi take on the pre-aeor mission

Reccer says: Suuuuper fascinating take on the group in a sci-fi world. The interactions btwn Essek and Caleb are so interesting and you call practically feel all the world building even in the short amount of time.

Frozen Ink by Beauteousmajesty (1663, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek’s chronic pain gets worse once winter has arrived in Rexxentrum. Luckily, Caleb is good at fire.

Reccer says: Domestic and sweet ❤️

Golden hour by Technojuicebox (1914, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek needs help after an experiment of intimate nature has gone wrong.

Reccer says: I love the sexual tension between them

Suspicions (The Empire Spy) by Im_sorry_dont_judge_me (8249, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

Essek learns of one of Caleb's fantasies and agrees to play it out with him. Then Caleb insists on returning the favor.

Reccer says: I really like that some of the kink negotiation scenes are included - communication is sexy.

farewell star by narspicious (8297, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Major Character Death

When Caleb Widogast dies in Aeor, Essek vows that not even the gods will stop him from bringing back the man he loves.

Reccer says: I loved the atmosphere and the premise a lot!

so volatile an equation by bloodredribbon (8459, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Mutual dubcon, manipulation

After Caleb witnesses Essek's conversation with Da'leth, Essek kidnaps him before he can tell the Nein what he saw.

Reccer says: It's so messy, a lovely dark fic of what could have happened had Essek seen Caleb

of things yet to come by ghostsquidswrites (10467, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Ludinus imprisons Caleb in a sleeping spell to try and get Essek to do his bidding. Essek tries to use magic to figure out a way out of it.

Reccer says: I love it when Essek interacts with the rest of the nein - and here, also other NPCs - and I'm a big fan of the wizards nerding out about spells.

The Icarus to Your Certainty by ithilielthechosenone (14091, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In Aeor, just the two of them, there are many things to finally resolve. Not least of all the question of what they could be to one another.

Reccer says: This fic has so many of the things I love about Shadowgast - Essek hanging out with Reani, pining, travels to Aeor, considerations of time travel shenanigans, guilt and learning to love themselves through loving others - it's a fantastic read and deserves to be a classic.

I want you to hold me (don't let me go) by Multifandom_damnation (2316, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

After the final battle with Trent Ikithon, Caleb goes home to a worried and waiting Essek, who puts him back together as best he can

Reccer says: The soft coda to Echoes of the Solstice that they deserve

some branch of stars we see by SongOfWizardry (1721, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: WIP

A shadowgast teaching AU where Caleb is training Essek to be a secondary school teacher.

Reccer says: It's a highly specific AU in terms of author's experience, and I love how it also fills in the relationships that Caleb has with the rest of the Nein.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast.

Check out the previous Hidden Gem Recs Lists here [1] [2] [3] [4]

Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we'll be featuring spanking!

[dessertpanda]

A Guardian Angel and a Saint? Naw… not anymore

To be a Hero PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 PT5 PT6

Talk of killing and torture methods, suicide mentioned,  The two are insane and Izuku is OOC but all in good love... in their own way) angsty

That caught Kurogiri's attention… Such a shy, innocent, quirkless boy… insane? “Bullied from a young age, pride hurt after all these years that his girlfriend is his guard dog… he wants to be the provider, the protector for once… and he knows his best chances are through you” She chuckled, “though you won’t see him kill much… Naw, torturing is more his style”

(Lets continue)

Kurogiri listened intently to her words, he had a feeling these two were much darker than they led on but to hear such a thing... "I see, so he derives pleasure from causing pain... and you... you bring release for the person through death. What a horrific balance but yet so perfect" He hummed, staring at the girl with a rather fearful look...' How on earth did they get away with it"

"Yes, but no one knows of what we did!" She hummed, staring back at him. "We've done it twice, and having dark magic makes clean up really easy" Reaching for the glass again, Y/n ran her fingers all over it. Kurogiri watched, taking a slight step back as the glass began to shake, cracks lining the edge before it completely shattered. However, the pieces of glass never moved, frozen within a ball of purple and blue hues.

"Your magic?" He questioned, moving closer once again, staring in amazement as the shards looked as if they were stars that lined the galaxy. "Incredible, must have been easy to get into U.A. uh?" He suddenly felt...sorrow, guilt... He had taken these young adults away from a bright future...

"Yeah, but in all honestly... I only followed for Izuku... Never found a good family amounts heroes" She lifted her hands, before moving her hands closer to each other causing the glass to shatter within the bubble. "They find my ability horrifying, but you guys... We have a family now! More people to protect and have our backs" Her bright smile practically blinded him.

'A bright future indeed' He chucked softly, a small warmth taking over him. "Indeed, a dysfunctional family. I feel you will have a good impact on Shigiraki... hopefully display a true sisterly role to him" He glanced over where the ash-blue man sat, leaning forward as if that would help him see better.

"You love him huh?" Y/N questioned, glancing at her boyfriend and Shigiraki...Kurogiris's eyes widened slightly at her unexpected question. He stammered for a moment before recomposing himself to maintain his stoic demeanor.

"Love... Is a strong word," His voice was tainted with defensiveness. "He's a valuable asset to my master... and he trusts me" He spoke... completely contradicting his words about family earlier.

"naw... you see him as your son" she murmured, releasing the seal she had over the powdered glass and allowing it to fall onto the surface of the counter.  "Hey! hook up an extra controller I want in!" She hummed, hopping off the stool, and made her way over to the couch, leaving Kurogiri there with the mess of both the glass and his thoughts.

"Peculiar girl" Kurogiri hummed, eyes fixated on how easily she settled herself between the two boys.

"Welcome home love" She giggles, knocking her shoulder against Izukus, causing him to huff softly and lean into her.

"It's good to be home" He hummed, kissing her forehead before refocusing on the screen.

"oi! Before we start the next game, it's important to mention something" Shigiraki paused the game, taking the attention of both, "about a month from now... U.A's gonna go on a little field trip... and we're gonna chaperone it" He watched as their playful moods shifted into hard looks, and nods of understanding. "we're betting on the number one being there... a little test zone to say the least" He hummed, moving to scratch at his neck. "If we kill him fantastic!, but if not... we won't be risking much" The two nodded, a slight giddy feeling taking over Y/n as he continued to speak of the plan.

"AH, we should get outfits! I don't wanna fight a bunch of people in just jeans and a t-shirt" and she began to ramble, potential colors, code names, masks, everything she could think of that would make them look truly villainous. And of course... her lovely boyfriend was already taking notes on what she wanted and the materials she'd need to make these outfits.

"Yeah.... great idea but WHERE THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT TO GET THIS FROM" Her words annoyed the man, yes... he wanted all this. Wanted to look like a badass video game character... but how exactly was she planning on accomplishing this.

"Duh, I'll make them! We can go and gather materials!" She hummed, before turning to Izuku, listing a couple other things. To say the two villains were shocked... was an understatement.  She had every intention to design, make, and sew them gear and costumes... "I'm taking over a room for crafts" she spoke quickly giving a heads-up before returning her attention to Zuku, who was ferociously writing.

"Right..." Both sweats dropped at her demand... not a question... a statement.

(minny time skip)

After taking quick measurements and kicking both Izuku and Shigiraki's asses in Mario's cart, the two love birds decided to head to bed... As both showed, dressed and now lay snugly under the covers, Izuku couldn't help but chuckle at their situation. "I'm... really thankful you're here with me... I don't know where I'd be without you" He pulled her closer, allowing her body to fit perfectly against his.

"You'd be in a grave my love" she hummed, running a hand up and down his back, breath hitching whenever her fingers ran over a burn scar.... 'I'll kill him' Her brain hated Bakugo... wanted him bleeding out and to save his head as a mantelpiece.

"You're right... if you were not there to catch me that day... I'd be dead" He allowed his mind to trail back to that event... the one that pushed him to the edge of the building... to taking the final leap that others had him teetering on. (flashback)

"Quirkless people can't become heroes... you better off risking your life as an officer... might make you living more wild" The number one stood tall, looking at the meek boy who knelt before him, tears streaming down his freckled face... begging for some type of recognition.  "Sorry kid... but if you wanna be a hero... better off waiting for the next life" and with that... the man leaped, into the sky, villain within a bottle, leaving a heartbroken kid... stuck atop a roof... with no one around.

'Another life... another life...' the thoughts ran rapidly through his brain. How many people had told him that... why would no one believe him. Was being quirkless... did it truly make you a waste of space. Curling into himself, hands gripping his crazed hair... the boy sobbed, tears dripping onto the floor more frequently than before. His voice caught in his throat as he tried to process the words over and over again. His best friend... turned bully "Just jump off a roof and pray you're born with a quirk in the next life"... his idel... "Sorry kids... better off waiting for the next life"... every single one of his classmates.. "haha Deku!" "What a loser" "Quirkless!!" "How pathetic... still trying to play hero?" Why... why were they like this.... why would no one let him dream?! Shaking his head, trying to force the thoughts away... not even realizing his body was moving on its own... so desperate for a chance, a quirk... that it did the only thing he could think of...the only thing he was constantly told.

His red shoes screeched from his fast steps... the wind hitting his face as the ledge came closer... and his feet refused to stop... so he took the leap off the rooftop... and prayed for a better chance in the next life... just like he had been told so many times in this one. The wild caused his hair to move wildly... no one was in sight as he plummeted... yet everything fell in slow motions around him. The sky was clearer for some reason... the wind was crisp and refreshing... the glass on the building reflected his body completely... his tear-stained face staring back at him. He looked like a fallen angel... one's who's wings had been clipped, and was forced to fall rather than sore. "I'LL BE A PRO... in the next life," he spoke to no one but himself, closing his eyes, feeling the ground approaching... waiting for the end... no no no... his new beginning... right?! Surely no one would miss him! Not his mother who... who would sit by the door waiting for a man that would never return... just like she had done when she heard the news of her husband...

'Mom...' and suddenly the world came a little clearer.... no, this wasn't what he wanted for her.... she was supportive of him! H-how could he think of doing something so... selfish but yet.... he didn't want to stop the fall. "I'm sorry Mom... but it's better this way" eyes now shut tight, his so-called worthless life flashing before his eyelids... never a girlfriend... not a single friend since 1st grade... no first kiss... no more anything...just closer.

"Uh... I think you dropped something" A voice...a female voice, soft, but stern... suddenly he realized it was directed at him... the wind had stopped, the free fall feeling leaving entirely, prying open his eyes, he was looking directly at the ground... but it wasn't approaching any closer... maintaining its distance... inches in front of his face.  Looking up he was met with a goddess, her hand outstretched, producing his sort of mist of blue and purple... her face framed with y/h/c locks and big beautiful eyes... and... a school uniform... one that matched his exactly... stunned, he said no words... just watched as she smiled softly, a relief look on her face...  "I'm Y/N... nice to catch ya!" with a head tilt and an even brighter smile... Izuku realized he had found his new beginning.

"h-hi"

(end flashback) Izuku was so lost in the past he hadn't realized he was shedding tears, pulling her body impossibly closer to him. Flinching slightly, when a soft kiss was pressed to his bare chest, "He will pay" Her words were vague but he understood completely... who, why, how... with a soft hum, she allowed sleep to consume her.

Izuku watched as Y/n fell asleep, peacefully in his arms. Her breathing became soft and steady, savoring the soft feeling of her body against his. Closing his own eyes, allowing her scent to fill him, carrying him right behind her into dreamland.

(GOD EXAMS NEVER END!!!! uGHH, anyways.... HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ANYONE THAT CELEBRATES IT, was in the feelings today and ugh!!! had to write some of their first meetings... anyways HAVE A GREAT DAY AND REMEMBER TO EAT, DRINK, AND LOVE YOURSELF BYEEEEEE LOVE YOU ALL) P.s I'm debating on adding a little side chapter... some lovey-dovey crap if ya catch my drift! Let me know in the comments and I'll try to deliver... okay byeee for reals this time!!!!!!!! !! ! ! !!

[glamoureddreamer]

Birthday

Undertale Nightmare and Dream

Warnings: None (please let me know if this is wrong)

Considering a part 2 but I’m unsure I hope you enjoy :) have a great day

"Happy birthday Nightmare, I love you." Nightmare smiles pulling his brother closer.

"I love you too Dream, Happy birthday."

Dream watches the stars above them, twinkling far away. Providing a small amount of light. The apple tree covers his view of some of the stars but he didn’t complain.

"You won't leave me right?" Dream asked without warning. He didn't want to tell his brother but he felt as if something bad was going to happen soon. This was their calm before the storm, but he couldn’t explain it.

"Stars Dream, why would you ever think of such a thing.. of course I won't."

"Can you promise me?" Dream asks tears filling his sockets that go unnoticed by Nightmare.

~~~

"I promise Dream." Nightmare says looking at the tree stump in his abandoned au.

Today was their birthday and they were spending it away from each other again. Nightmare was sure Dream could feel it, the ache of being away from each other. They were always supposed to stay to guard the tree never being that far apart from each other.

Nightmare felt guilt, which is why he returned for today at least.

Coming to his old AU always brought up other feelings as well, like anger towards their mother, towards the villagers, and towards himself.

He never admitted it to anyone not even his team but he didn’t want to fight his brother anymore, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and apologize for everything he’s done. But admittedly he was afraid of what would happen if he did, would Dream even want to stop fighting? Does Dream hate him like he hates himself?

He brushes his hand against the stump but something startles him, he quickly takes his hand off the tree and turns around quickly. He was shocked to see who stood before him, his defense went down.

“Hello, Brother.” Dream stood a few feet away from him, his positivity wasn’t as strong and he seemed almost sad.

“Hi, Nightmare.” It was quiet between the two and somewhat awkward, it made Nightmare feel even worse. It was all his fault.

“I’ll leave.” Nightmare said after a moment, he turned around and made a portal.

He was about to go through when there was a hand on his shoulder, knowing whose it was he almost cried.

“Wait Nightmare..” Hesitantly he closes the portal and turns towards Dream.

“Yes?” He was always good at hiding his emotions, even as a child.

“Why…” He starts, seemingly testing out the water.

“Why are you here?”

“I always come here.” He quietly admits.

“You do?” Dream asks in a hopeful manner.

“Yes, only on special occasions.”

“Well… you don’t have to leave. If you want I can go.” Dream suggests. Nightmare thinks for a moment, debating his options.

“You can stay. I am going to stay too.” He says before sitting down against the stump much like how they used to.

Dream stood standing for a second before sitting down right next to him. After a few moments of silence, Nightmare heard a sniffle. Dream wasn’t like him, he didn’t know how to hide his emotions.

“Are you alright?” He asks without turning towards him.

“Sorry.” He whimpered.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I just..thought you..hated me, hated mom, our childhood.” Nightmare felt his words pierce his soul and the tears he’d been holding onto spilled.

“..I could never hate you.” He says quietly his voice too was broken.

Dream shifts and Nightmare turns to see only to find Dream sitting on his knees facing him. Dream had golden tears running down his face, despite the corruption Nightmare’s tears were purple.

“why? Why try to hurt me? Kill positivity?” Dream asks his voice breaking more each second. Nightmare swallows the lump in his throat and looks away from Dream.

“The world must be balanced. An equal amount of positivity and negativity, I have to bring about negativity. However, it is never us that attacks first.”

“Ink..” Dream quietly mumbles, and Nightmare nods with a hum.

“So you’ve..been doing your job and we’ve been.. oh, stars.. I’m so sorry..” Dream covers his mouth and his chest shakes as he starts to cry.

Nightmare hesitated but before his body told him he shouldn’t he went for it. Nightmare pulls Dream into a hug.

“Do not be sorry. It is my fault. All of this..is my fault.” Dream wraps his arms around his brother not caring about covering up his sobs anymore.

They both hold each other and cry, finally freeing 500 years worth of pain.

They had a lot of work to do.

[dullahanblorboposting]

Hmmm I do enjoy the large amounts of feral toxic and obsessive violence flavors of durgetash around but its not my preference, like. I crave the 'horrible awful worst people youve ever met are soft for (ONLY) eachother' dynamic. What if, given the opportunity, they really WOULD rule together side by side, and they really do secretly and shamefully yearn for that comfort together. What if they almost indulge in it sometimes. AAAAAAAAAA

I really love the star-crossed lovers, forbidden romance, mutual yearning, tragedy of the only person to ever know you, and even openly like you being a temporary co-conspirator but ultimately your sworn enemy you you know you must kill.

Maybe it's just circumstantial. Maybe in another life you really would have hated him, or worse, had no feeling towards him either way at all, but that's not your reality. Your reality is that he's the ONLY ONE that offers you a painful glimpse of normalcy. Or as close to normal as someone like YOU could get. And it's so tempting (comforting even? Is that comfort?) That you can't ignore it. No matter how much guilt and shame it brings, no matter how much fear you hold towards your Father. You can control your urges, but not this? This feeling, this longing is stronger than even your deepest nature as child of Bhaal, so much so that you can't control it. So you ask for forgiveness instead. With promises that in the end, the result will be the same. You will kill him all the same. He will die at your hand, before only you, yourself.

You justify it this way. To the temple. To Father. To yourself.

Death is the only way this could end anyway. Because could you really go on living the way it was before? Before being known, accepted, liked as you were?

[ashthewaterghoul]

A Monster Made Human - A Copia One Shot

The Ghouls all semi-isolated themselves as they grieved, which was a custom that he expected as they were still grieving Sunshine too. He would go about his days, trying his best, then sobbed all his face paint off, feeling entirely unworthy of it. He had failed to protect his flock, his Ghouls, his tesori. What good could he still do? He was advised to let the new Ghouls come to him, so he waited for Phantom and Aurora and neither ever came. The others didn’t come to him nearly as much anymore – and somewhere deep down he knew the truth behind it was because having to acclimate two new summons was a big effort – but he couldn’t help but wonder if they all saw him as the monster he saw in the mirror. Or, The best way to summon a new Ghoul is to use the blood of the old. And Copia has a lot of guilt when he must say goodbye to Aether and Sunshine...

Words: 1.4k

Rating: Mature

Tags: Copia needs a hug, character death, ritual k!llings, heavy angst, guilt, idk how to tag this pls send help.

A/n: Technically this is part of my fic Even The Brightest Stars Burn Out but I'm pretty sure it can be read without having read that first.

~~~

    Copia felt his soul weighed down with lead as he walked away from the summoning room. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want either of them to go. None of it made any sense and, despite being Papa, he was powerless to stop it.

    When he rose to his current station, he took those Ghouls under his wing, he knew he would have to say goodbye one day. He instantly said goodbye to Zephyr so that Cumulus could be summoned from their blood.

    Now, he had Phantom and Aurora.

    Poor Sunshine, left completely oblivious to being selected for a ritual. Copia was whisked away as soon as they got back from tour and couldn’t get a minute to send any warning before they were all filing in. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to turn that dagger on himself, on the Clergy, anyone but his Ghouls. His precious Ghouls…

Read below the cut or on ao3

    “Sunshine, cara,” Copia said, his eyes welling and voice cracking already, some Ghouls already caught on to what was going to happen, “The altar, per favore.”

    Sensing the terror and sadness and grief from her pack, she looked at Copia and her eyes started to well.

    Copia’s Ghouls all knew Italian, so in his mother tongue he told her, “They are making me. I am so sorry; I don’t want to.”

    “Papa,” Sister Imperator said, “we must hurry if we want the best results.”

    Copia nodded and looked back to Sunny.

    She was so beautiful. Her eyes took after her namesake, and her orange curls were always usually bouncing with her vibrant aura. Copia had always been fascinated with her horns as well. They had a brown tinge to them and were dusted with charcoal from the pointed tips down, curling around her head slightly in a display of her three affinities – Fire, Earth and Air – meeting in harmony. Her horns were also run through with gold cracks of sunlight that shone ethereally and lit up a room.

    Copia would never be able to leave behind the mental image of that sunlight dying out with her soul.

    He didn’t care about what the Clergy thought after he drove that dagger into her. What little time he did have before having to commit this atrocity was spent looking at one of the few Ghoul Physiology and Anatomy books in his study so he knew where would bleed out quickest, and leave Sunshine suffering for the least amount of time. After he pulled the dagger out, golden blood running from her wound, he beckoned his Ghouls over. They all huddled around Sunshine, making sure she felt loved and as safe as she could as she went to the Beyond.

    He summoned Aurora, with what little energy he could muster, then he fell to his knees. The dagger falling to the ground with a ringing clatter. He couldn’t explain it, but the echoes of the reverberating metal almost sounded like Sunshine’s laughter.

    It was only a few days later when Copia was called into Sister’s office, and told there would be another summoning for a Quintessence Ghoul. Aether had been Copia’s right hand for the last decade, near enough. He didn’t want to say goodbye to another Ghoul ever again.

    “We can do the summonings without the bloodshed. Cirrus, Swiss and Rain, Satanas, even Sunshine herself, were all summoned without the murder of another!” Copia protested.

    “They were summoned without, and they were your most difficult summonings yet. The energy and element in the blood strengthens the link to the next soul. That Quint has served his purpose, and more. It is time for some changes.” Sister told him.

    Copia stormed out, cursing in Italian under his breath. He hyperventilated in his study, already begging Aether’s forgiveness even though the Quint was blissfully unaware on the other end of the Ministry.

    Maybe that’s how the rumours spread, because not too long after the pack asked if it was true. Copia felt the entire cosmos weigh him down as he nodded, and swore to Aether he’d find a way to keep him alive. He even made his promise in the Ghoulish custom; he knelt down, and grabbed Aether’s arm up by his elbow. He looked Aether straight into the eye too.

    He failed his promise, and a few days before his death, Aether came up to his office.

    “I know the effect the blood has on the summonings, and I need to ask something of you.” He said.

    “Anything, il mio caro demone.”

    “I need you to add this rune to the summoning circle.” Aether held up a piece of paper that was a scan of one of the library books.

    “A family rune?” Copia asked, already knowing where this was going.

    “I have a feeling that Phantom’s getting summoned soon. It needs to be to here. I know summoning them to a pool of my blood is cruel, but they need the pack. The pack needs them too.” Aether said.

    Aether’s pride and joy had been the little sibling he was forced to leave behind in Hell. The one that watched him leave and had nothing to return to. They were all each other had following the deaths of their parents.

    “The rune, it’ll call to anyone with my blood. If they’re still alive, which I’m almost certain they are, Phantom’s the only one left of our family. I know it won’t set anything in stone, but… can you please try?” Aether’s voice cracked.

    “Y- you want me to care for them?” Copia couldn’t quite believe the trust that Aether was putting in him.

    “Yes. It has to be here. The pack, you, the project. They have to come here. A prophecy my Ma had years ago… made no sense at the time but now I know this is what it was about. They have to come here. Please, please promise you’ll try.” Aether begged.

    “Of course I will, you have my word. I’m honoured you trust me.” Copia said genuinely. Everyone knew how much Aether adored his little Bug.

    When they all filed back into the summoning room that day, Copia begged Aether’s forgiveness and felt completely unworthy as Aether granted it immediately.

    Aether, having had notice for his death, had spent the night previous receiving what was essentially the last rites for Ghouls - runes and oils and spells all over him to protect his soul into the Beyond.

    Copia helped Aether sit on the altar, said a last prayer, and drove the dagger straight into Aether’s chest. The pack all surrounded Aether, who did his best to show no reaction to the pain, and Dewdrop was right by his head, holding his gaze as he left.

    Swiss and Mountain had to combine their strength to hold Dew back as Copia drew the summoning circle, adding in the extra rune, and started chanting.

    It was way too bittersweet when Copia later found out he did indeed summon Phantom.

    Copia’s heart weighed heavy with what he had done. When he’d done the same to Zephyr, all those years ago, there was Aether to help him through it all. Now there was no one.

    The Ghouls all semi-isolated themselves as they grieved, which was a custom that he expected as they were still grieving Sunshine too. He would go about his days, trying his best, then sobbed all his face paint off, feeling entirely unworthy of it.

    He had failed to protect his flock, his Ghouls, his tesori. What good could he still do? He was advised to let the new Ghouls come to him, so he waited for Phantom and Aurora and neither ever came. The others didn’t come to him nearly as much anymore – and somewhere deep down he knew the truth behind it was because having to acclimate two new summons was a big effort – but he couldn’t help but wonder if they all saw him as the monster he saw in the mirror.

    Because surely, he deserved every single part of their wrath. He knew he did. He is a monster. More monstrous than the Ghouls he summoned and failed to protect. He convinced himself he would never be forgiven, that any love the Ghouls had once shown would never be seen again. Copia knew that he would never be able to forgive himself for it, and so never put any particular effort into it. What good would it do when he deserved to suffer the punishment for the heinous sins and atrocities he had committed?

    Copia could never see a single day where he could look at himself, and not see anything but pure monstrous evil staring back at him.

One shot master post can be found here