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first-frost-fallen-snow · 16 days ago

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It all happened so fast. One minute he was tailing this man to make sure he wasn't Kira, the next he was married to him. Raye had been engaged before, but that didn't work out. Since then he couldn't fathom the thought of even dating someone new, it felt like a betrayal.

Logically, he knew that none of this was romantic. This was some stupid plan from the task force he wasn't allowed to know the details of. All he was told was to play house with a man he barely knew, that was terrified of him and the situation they were in. Raye knew all too well what it was like moving to Japan and being thrust into new and frankly horrific circumstances - that was him only a few years ago - so he did everything he could to accomodate.

Raye did what he thought was the best thing he could. He researched Ed's conditions so he knew how to react and what Ed would need in certain circumstances. He kept the house tidy, even cooked meals for Ed - despite their situation, he found small joys in the mundane. But he never forced Ed to interact with him, nor was Ed obligated to wear the ring. Like coaxing a cat, he showed signs of trust but did not coerce Ed into reciprocating. His personal rule of thumb was to act as if they were simply roommates.

Never had he thought married life would be like this. His initial plan was to marry Naomi. He wanted to meet her parents and earn their blessings. They'd buy a house and a yard - they even planned to have kids. Back then he could clearly see two children chasing eachother in the yard while he and Naomi sat together and watched. The rings would catch his eye, and he'd look at Naomi and think how did I get so lucky?

Opening his eyes, Raye broke this reverie. He didn't want to seem like he was awake, yet, since he was unsure if that would startle Ed. His gaze was drawn to his own ring, something that made his eyes prickle with tears that he quickly stifled. It wasn't that Ed was a bad man, or that Raye was particularly unhappy, he simply missed Naomi.

Not only that, but Raye was the kind of man to enjoy physical touch. He wasn't going to just cuddle up to Ed because they were married now. He didn't even know a single thing about Ed aside from the fact that he was a suspect. He was sure any attempts to get to know him would go down the drain. So he remained lonely, making sure not to sleep too close to Ed so he didn't cross any boundaries.

That was enough thinking for now, Raye supposed as he slowly sat up. He wasn't sure if Ed was awake yet, but he made sure to be quiet and tuck the blanket back in when he slipped out of bed. He picked up his own ring, fidgeting with it for a moment. He stared down at Ed, only finding himself feeling... pity. It wasn't Ed's fault they were in this situation - poor Ed must have been terrified. He must've missed home, where there was no Kira case and he could go about his day without a stranger in his house.

Raye let out a long sigh - though keeping it quiet as not to wake or upset Ed - and headed towards the closet to pick out an outfit. He wasn't going to change in front of Ed, nor would he imply vice versa. They may have been married, but he would rather be overly cautious of boundaries than be careless. He planned to take this outfit to the bathroom.

His cat, Soots, hopped up onto the bed, demanding attention as he passed by. He shushed her quietly, scooping her up to take her with him so she wouldn't wake Ed.

"We're married"

《 from Raye Penber @first-frost-fallen-snow because that would be the funniest route to me also sorry for like disappearing I was focusing on moving out and now my fatigue is killing me 》

Ed awoke for once not slumped over his keyboard, yet also not in the empty apartment he'd moved into when he first moved to Japan. Though he supposed technically, the apartment he was in belonged to him, as did the bed he lay in, though both truly belonged to the man laying next to him. He squinted at the clock on his nightstand, at red LED numbers so blurry, only years of practice allowed him to decipher the time without having to put his glasses on. He still had time before he had to get up, a couple of hours before he had to get to work.

A flash of gold on the nightstand drew his eyes from the clock to the ring next to his glasses. It was the only piece of jewelry he owned, and far more expensive than anything he would ever purchase for himself. There was a similar ring on the other nightstand on the opposite side of the bed that belonged to the other occupant--Raye Penber.

Ed... still didn't know what to make of his new situation, let alone the man he was now legally bound to. He didn't hate him, certainly, though whether he trusted him was yet to be decided. Their marriage hadn't been Ed's idea, nor had it been Raye's. A necessity to facilitate the Kira investigation, it had been called, and Ed had only begrudgingly agreed to it for fear of opposition somehow being used against him as evidence and landing him in prison.

Thought of their marriage left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He'd sworn when he got his job at Encom, and finally escaped his father's control that he would never put himself in any sort relationship where there was a power imbalance and they were not equals. He wouldn't put himself in a situation where he could be abused again. And yet here he was, a foreigner, far from anyone he could call a friendly face, barely understanding the language and culture, and though their partnership was supposed to be one of equals, it didn't feel that way.

Not that he had anyone on the other side of the Pacific he could call for help if he was able, anyway. His therapist, maybe. Though he didn't trust that the call wouldn't be monitored. Or an old rival, if he was desperate.

He felt trapped. He was relying on a man he barely knew to keep him from being falsely accused of mass murder. He was at risk, not just from his partner, but from the people in charge of the investigation as well, People he felt like were treating the investigation as nothing more than a game, where both his and his partner's lives were nothing more than disposable pawns.

How strange it was, that such a tiny band of metal could hold so much meaning. To others, it would have been a symbol of joy as bright as it's polished surface, but to Ed it had just replaced the physical handcuffs that had bound him to his legal partner to with a symbolic one.

#muse: raye penber #fandom: death note #crossover #not-that-dillinger #《 I really like the idea that Light came up with the idea and L was like. yeah sure why not 》#《 I love this idea and I had to reply 》#《 I'll reply to our other thread..... eventually. I'm having a hard time coming up with a good response 》#《 anyway another hc that I forgot to mention when you asked is that Raye is a Househusband. malewife if you will 》#《 I wrote this like theyve been married a while but I assume this id brand new #so all of my prelude is like. maybe a week at most 》#《 this makes me wonder... did they have a ceremony? 》#《 also I feel like its unclear here but he and Naomi broke up a bit before he even met Ed. the marriage is just making him think of her 》#《 this is uh. really long and convoluted 》#《 I hope this isn't impossible to reply to haha 》#《 yippee 》

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jo-harrington · 10 months ago

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Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

#Eddie munson x reader #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson #Eddie munson #stff updates

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puppetmaster13u · 3 months ago

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Prompt 346

So I’ve been thinkin’ about the game Pressure, and two things about the lore. Specifically Sebastian Solace’s lore.

One, Sebastian after causing the lockdown by letting out most of the other creatures, has been in contact with a “rival company” giving information/data in exchange for (presumably) freedom. Now my first thought, curse my hyperfixations, is he could totally be in contact with someone associated with the JL, maybe Oracle, maybe someone else. Or even in desperation contacting a villain.

Two, part of the dna & whatever else he’s spliced with is redacted. And so it could hypothetically totally be ectoplasm. A not-quite halfa not-quite ghost and not-exactly liminal situation going on, but still. He interacts with us after we die too, he’s part of the ‘here’s what killed you’ screen. Which hypothetically means he could see ghosts.

Do you see where I am going with these things?

#Prompts #Pressure Crossover #Danny Phantom Crossover #DC Crossover #Sebastian Solace #DCxDP #DPxDC #Honestly could be combined or separated into two prompts #Intangibility could explain how he manages to get in & out of tiny ass vents #Invisibility could explain how he grabs the classified files from ur hands despite not being there seemingly #There’s also always potential for Lil Guy Danny as Down in the Deep Au shows lol #But there’s so much potential for so many different takes and AUs #Roblox Pressure #Pressure Roblox #This isn't even mentioning things like BRIGHT GREEN Eyefestation with MENTAL ABILITIES & literal mind melting #Or Painter who is a person's mind stuffed into a computer- get Tucker or Cyborg or someone on that & help the poor artist

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utterlyotterlyx · 3 months ago

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A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Five

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - some fluff, flirtation, mentions of blood and gore

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

Azriel hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of y/n despite Elain's incessant chirping about the gardens and her desire to venture into the city for more seeds.

The training grounds weren't usually so busy, but that morning it turned out that Nesta and Mor had begged y/n to spar with them, and she couldn't exactly say no, not when they had established bonds at dinner the evening before.

So there Azriel sat at the edge of the ring, watching y/n move like a phantom breeze and swing her sword like it was an extension of her soul whilst Elain chattered on beside him. He hadn't minded the sound of her voice, it was a miracle she was even speaking at all considering everything that had happened to her, and he was happy to play a part of her settling but it was clear that Elain believed there was something else between them.

He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drag over y/n's figure, from the curve of her hips in the leathers she donned to the tilt of her gleaming smile. Azriel was bewitched. Just as he caught her loosely braided hair swaying in the breeze and wondering how it would feel between his fingers, a voice pulled him from the image, "Azriel? Are you listening?"

Glancing to his left, Azriel's hazel orbs connected with those of Elain, doe-like and soft, and he felt his trance disperse into the air, allowing the clash of swords to fill his ears, "Sorry, Elain. What did you say?"

The pink of her skirt dusted against the dirt of the training grounds, her hair bristling in the unobstructed breeze, "I asked if you'd like to come into the city with me this afternoon? For the seeds?" Azriel moved his gaze back to y/n and didn't feel bad about it, he was more than happy to watch her train, maybe he would get to go head to head with her at some point as well. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Azriel hummed softly in agreement, "Yes, she really is."

"I didn't know that Rhys had a sister. Feyre never mentioned anything."

Frowning slightly, Azriel told her, "Feyre didn't know. No one did. Rhys was prepared to die with the secret, she's only here because he sent her a message, a call for aid. Once the war is over she'll likely return to her world."

Elain examined Azriel's face, the transfixed eyes and softened lips, the lax shoulders and how his shadows were perched upon his shoulders staring at y/n like she was the last blinkering star in existence. She knew better than to get between a look like that, a stare more powerful than one ever given to her. Elain sighed, gathering her journals in her arms, "Maybe another time?"

Without sparing her his eyes, Azriel nodded, rising to his feet and making his way over to the ring where both Nesta and Mor lay on their backs panting whilst y/n stepped over their forms with a smirk, wings stretching and knowing that the two females were done for the day. Y/N approached the weapons rack, settling her sword back on its perch as she felt that familiar cool curl around her arms, smiling downward at the shadows which caressed her skin. "Did you enjoy the show?"

Turning on the balls of her feet, she came face-to-face with Azriel who peered down upon her with wonder, his lips curled upward into a knowing smirk, "It was impressive," he told her with his arms folded over his chest, sparing a glance backward over his shoulder at a groaning Mor who was struggling to stand on her feet without swaying. "I'm just wondering when it will be my turn."

"Your turn?" Y/N took a singular step toward him, her scent becoming entangled with the air he inhaled, infecting his bones straight down to their cores.

"Yes."

The fire in her eyes danced with intrigue, and all Azriel could think of was having her trapped beneath him, his legs pinning her body and hands wrapped around the back of her neck. He could almost picture the sparks of blue in her eyes up close, how they would ebb and flow with the ire of submitting to him.

"We can go now," her voice teased as her chest brushed against his, "If you're ready for me that is."

A soft breeze swept over her face, causing the shorter tendrils of hair to stick to her cheeks, and Azriel couldn't stop his marred fingers from reaching out and removing them from her skin, lightly brushing his digits along the contour of her cheekbone and allowing his gaze to roam over her face.

"I'll always be ready for you," his voice held a certain softness to it, like he was speaking to her in the dead of night, hushed so that he wouldn't cause the storm to stir.

His touch lingered on her cheek, and up close, Azriel was mesmerised by the hue of y/n's eyes. They weren't just violet, they were a myriad of purple and storm grey, with the smallest speckles of blue which caused them to appear alight, and her limbal ring was a shade of deep onyx which just gave Azriel one more reason to be completely consumed by her.

Y/N went to speak, to open her perfectly sculpted lips and say something, but the words were stolen from her throat. In his shadow, she was simply y/n, not a queen or the most formidable warrior Erilea had ever birthed, not the daughter of the Valg or the bringer of the storms; under his eyes, she was just y/n. And she quite liked how that made her feel.

Though, she had wished that she was paying more attention to her surroundings, namely to the set of eyes that were likened to her own now glancing between her and the male who held her cheek in his hand. "Your match will have to wait," Rhys' voice slithered between them, pulling their gazes apart but not their bodies. He held a report in his fingers, his eyes were brimming with concern, "There's an update on Hybern's movements," his eyes moved to his sister, the only one who was truly undetectable and able to do what he so desperately needed, "I need you."

The rage that was written upon Azriel's face was so intense that it made even Rhys feel small.

After his interruption, Rhys had moved the entirety of the Inner Circle indoors, away from any prying eyes and ears, into the main seating area within the House of Wind. It was a comfortable place and the view beyond the arched windows was truly exquisite, even in the daylight when y/n could carve out every section within the mountains where various settlements lay, even the specific place where the pool of starlight resided.

"No." Azriel had snarled at Rhys' request from beside y/n. The Shadowsinger appeared relaxed, but there was molten ash swarming within him, within his eyes and his limbs. "If she were to get hurt then it'll be you that will have to face Aelin and Rowan and tell them why their closest friend, ally, and queen, has been harmed."

It seemed as though only Azriel understood the gravity of what the wrath of Aelin and Rowan would mean for them all, and he knew that with Aelin and Rowan came Lorcan and Aedion, y/n's bloodsworn, and Manon, the latter of which when she was mentioned made Azriel shiver.

Huffing with amusement, y/n rose from her place beside Azriel, finding his protectiveness to be rather alluring, "I can handle Aelin and Rowan," she paced toward the balcony, fixing a pair of leather fingerless gloves to her wrists and ensuring her twin blades were secured against her thighs. Y/N turned to face Azriel who had also risen, wings bristling at his back like they were preparing themselves to shoot off into the sky after her. "One day, you might stop underestimating me."

"I'll use the storms as cover, you'll get the information you need," she told Rhys stoically, opening the large looming balcony doors and stepping into the heightened winds.

Hybern was moving, the threat increasing, but the reports were too vague for Rhys, too conflicting, and he needed someone to report first hand on their movements, size, weaponry, the beasts in their arsenal. Everything. The rest of them were too recognisable, but y/n had the power to disappear whenever she wished, and that was the power that they needed.

"You don't know the continent." Stopping in her place, she turned, finding Azriel at the mouth of the doorway with Rhys stood not that far behind him. "You'll need help navigating the skies and knowing where exactly you are. Let me come with you."

Rhys nor Cassian had ever seen Azriel appear so desperate to be close to someone. From his seat beside Feyre, Cassian tilted his head toward his brother whose hand was outstretched to y/n, and if he could notice the longing glances between them then it must have been extremely obvious to everyone else. He had convinced himself that Mor was lying about was she saw in the training ring that morning, but apparently she was telling the truth.

Cassian had never seen Azriel look so obsessively helpless.

It took her a moment, but y/n nodded, once, and stiffly, before she spoke, "Stay close. You won't survive a lightening strike if it catches you."

The words should have scared him, or at least made him feel slightly wary. But Azriel didn't feel anything other than delight and privilege at the thought of being able to navigate the skies with her, and to be shielded under her power.

Unfurling her wings, Azriel watched in awe as the tips draped over the moon. He could count each feather individually from where he stood, he could etch the curves and membrane to his memory. And with a single beat of those onyx wings that resembled the night sky, y/n soared upward, craning her body in the direction of the wind before allowing it to support her flight.

Azriel wasted no time in joining her.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

That's how long they'd been away for. Spending hours of the night in the wrath of the storms, scouring the lands below their flight for a sign of the Hybern forces. Though it was to no avail.

They'd return to the small cabin they had found at dawn each morning, y/n groaning for a bath and Azriel seeking a moments rest that never found him easily. Azriel had become grumpy, tired of the bristled winds and icy rain that poured down upon him every night thanks to y/n’s storms thundering on to protect them from anything that may be watching from below.

Apparently she was used to such conditions.

It also didn’t help that his rest was confined to the small couch by the entry, his wings ached and there was only a small fire to keep him warm. In those dim moments of discomfort, Azriel wished that he had taken up y/n’s offer to sleep in the bed, to stretch his wings and rest just enough to keep his senses sharp, but he could never take something from her, not when her power was exhausting her to keep them both safe and hidden in the skies.

The nights went by with little conversation, though whatever words were spoken were always light. Despite the importance of their mission, y/n was doing her best to separate the seriousness from it; Azriel had chosen, no, begged to go with her, and she wasn’t about to make the time they spent together full of misery. Though, what y/n did know was that it would be easier for her to find the armies of Hybern on her own. Thanks to Azriel’s need to answer every single one of her questions, y/n was sure that she could navigate the skies on her without issue.

“Az,” y/n called from the doorway of the bathroom where pools of steam swirled along the floor. Azriel craned his head toward her, hazel eyes moving up her bare legs to the towel that was wrapped around her body, allowing his imagination to run wild, “Take the bed,” she told him, nodding toward the plush pillows and sheets that were calling out to him as she adjusted the towel around her chest, the twin mountain tattoos to Rhys’ rippling at her knees.

“You need it more than me,” he told her pointedly, raising an eyebrow at the tapping of her impatient foot again the wooden floor. Even with damp hair and glistening skin, y/n was by far the most mesmerising female he had ever seen, her jaw was so sharp that he was sure it would cut him if he ran a finger along it, her eyes were so bold and hypnotic that they threatened to possess his soul, and he would let them. “Your power has been keeping us safe for three nights now, it needs to recharge.”

Scoffing, y/n folded her arms over her chest, “I don’t think you know how my power works,” she sauntered back into the bathroom, pushing her hair over her shoulder before pushing the door to, but leaving it open by just a crack to allow the bathroom to air out from her obscenely hot bath.

He wished that he could have controlled the urge, he wished that he could just stay put, but the devil chirping in his ear was convincing enough to push him to his feet and slowly move toward the door. Through the crack, he watched as she dropped the towel to her waist and raked her fingers through the lengths of her hair. Azriel watched her skin shimmer in the light of dawn, and saw the curve of her breasts as she moved about, though, that wasn’t what he could focus on. It was the scar trailing from her ear to her tailbone which held his eye, it was angry and scaled, and grey in places, like it was still healing, he kept an eye on it even when her wings rustled at her back, drying themselves from the slick ointments she used which made her smell like his own personal heaven.

Azriel continued to watch as she ran her fingers over her skin, stopping to examine every bump and scar with a frown before tugging a short-sleeved but skintight shirt over her head and reaching for a brush to run it through the wind-induced knots in her drying hair. All Azriel wanted to do was care for her, to run that brush through her hair and place feathering kisses down the length of the healing scar that curled down over her shoulder and spine, but he wouldn’t, instead, Azriel turned away just as y/n reached the unwind the towel from her waist and resumed his position on the chair just before she exited the bathroom altogether.

“Take the bed, Az.” Y/N told him sternly, twirling her hair around her finger and tying it in a low sitting bun, “I’m going to go for a walk anyway, we need more firewood.”

Looking to the once plenitude chunks of wood that were dwindling to almost nothing, Azriel sent her a sidelong glare as she tugged on her shoes, “I’ll go.”

“No you won’t,” she replied, voice cold and demanding, her violet eyes were screaming for a moment of solitude, and despite his objections and the refusals in his ears from his shadows, he stiffly nodded and turned back to the ashen fireplace with a small frown. “I’ll be back soon.”

She left the small cabin quickly, throwing her cape over her shoulders and tugging it closer to her body as she traipsed through the sullen woodland, branches bending under her feet and the wind whipping against her reddened cheeks. All she had to do was get far enough away from Azriel’s earshot to be able to plunge herself into the skies without him realising what she was doing. Part of her felt bad for leaving him behind, but it was clear that he needed to rest, and that the shrill cold and damp of her storms were beginning to weigh him down.

It was a kindness really. In her eyes anyway.

Once she could no longer see the cabin, y/n walked for another fifteen minutes before unfurling her feathered wings and with one beat sent herself soaring upward through the trees. For a moment, she floated there, deciding which direction to go, and she summoned the spirit of the wind to aid her, allowing it to coil in her mind and will her northward toward a set of three mountains that she and Azriel had scoured on the first night.

On approach, they felt different, and y/n flew higher into the clouds to use them as cover as she soared over the clearings and valleys, not wanting to dip any lower in fear that she’d be seen, but she had no choice.

Y/N dipped over the peak of the tallest mountain, the same one she looked at before she went to sleep in the cabin because she thought that it touched the moon, and immediately saw what they had been looking for. The armies swam for miles down the valley, tall wooden cannons stood at the mouth of the woodland, surrounded by tents and fires; the stench of death filtered through into her lungs, and she could feel the power of that damned cauldron not too far away, and she deduced that it had wisely been glamoured. Amongst the tents and soldiers milling about the space, y/n spied winged beasts perched far away from the foot soldiers, probably because they were too terrified to be anywhere near them, and y/n didn’t blame them, their pointed ears and elongated teeth, and their leathery wings were enough to make even her feel queasy. But y/n had fought and survived much worse beasts than the ones stationed below.

Counting the cannons and making mental notes of the sizes and breeds of beasts in the arsenal of the King of Hybern, y/n went to swiftly turn back, to allow the wind to carry her back to the cabin to gather Azriel and then move onward to Rhys.

But the sharp piercing of arrows through her wings stopped her from doing such things, and y/n fell downward through the skies, whatever poison they had dipped the arrowheads in seeping into and weakening her body and powers. The wind flew by her as if trying to slow her fall, and with the last speckle of her power before it dimmed completely, y/n sent out a wave so strong that the air vibrated and hummed just as she hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Groaning, she rolled onto her front, wincing as she counted the four arrows that were embedded into the feathers and membrane of her wings, which made flying to safety impossible. There was no way that Prythian or Hybern would have the knowledge of the poison to slow her unless they knew that she was in their world, somehow, the King of Hybern was wholly aware of her presence, and he had taken steps to ensure that she would at least be slowed enough to be fatally harmed.

Y/N pushed herself shakily to her feet, her fae ears struggling to keep track of the beating of wings approaching her position as they became muffled and her vision hazed. How could she be so stupid? How could she be so unaware of the legion of soldiers and beasts watching her from the peak of the mountain? Queens weren’t meant to be shot down from the skies, especially fae queens who were at one with them.

Retrieving the dagger from the waistband of her briefs, she looked up through the trees, spying the wavering shadows of the winged beasts hovering overhead and willing her wobbling legs into the thickness of the woodland, struggling up the mounds, panting and grunting as she did her best to ignore the spreading poison in her veins that weakened her more each passing moment. The chill coursing up her spine told her that the beasts were closing in, that and their giggles of terror echoing through the forest, making it clear that they were enjoying the hunt and had no wish to kill her, but to only take her back to their master.

The Queen of the Fae continued to run as fast as her legs would allow, relying on her depleting senses to carry her to safety, but it was to no avail.

A body barrelled y/n into a nearby tree, and she felt her ribs crack and splinter underneath her skin at the force of it. Tears prickled her eyes and soft whimpers of frustration fell from her lips, but she wasn’t allowed to clamber to her feet, not when a winged beast drew a scream from her lips as its talons became embedded in her belly, her shriek was loud and shrill, and it sent shockwaves through the earth and air.

“Pretty thing, isn’t she?” A voice as void as death teased, saliva from its fangs dripped onto her skin, searing the surface with its acidity, “Did you truly think that he didn’t know of you? That you wouldn’t come to aid your blood?”

Ripping its talons from her flesh, y/n felt the blood flow from the open wound. The beast curled a razor sharp digit under her chin, lifting her gaze to its face, and its cunning grin made anger swarm inside of her chest.

“How did he know?” Y/N panted, blood continuing to pour from the deep puncture in her abdomen, doing her best to distract the clan of nightmarish creatures for just long enough.

“Your brother isn’t the only one with allies in high places,” the others chuckled, happy to sit back and watch their ring leader torment the poisoned queen at their complete mercy. “Our king wants you alive, but we personally don’t want to see a thing like you live.”

Not a monster like you.

Poison to the earth.

Kin of demons.

Their chants echoed around her, burying themselves into the marrow of her bones.

The beast raised its gnarled hand, a sadistic grin upon its monstrous excuse of a mouth, ready to strike. Ready to take the life of a poisoned queen of a different world.

But it stopped.

Not by its own accord, however.

A blast of dark magic erupted from the east, sending the creature looming over her wailing and clutching at itself whilst it twisted horridly through the air, becoming impaled on a nearby set of branches. Flashes of blue and gold coiled over her hazed vision followed by the dying shrieks of beasts gargling on the blacks of their own blood, and despite the blood coating her lips, y/n couldn’t resist a smile.

Turning her head to the side, she counted three males, two from her world and one not, all fighting, all appearing to her in their own glorious beauties, but they were too enthralled in the taste of battle to notice what was creeping up on them, all too focused on what was going on at the tips of their fingers to observe.

Without thinking, and with using all of the strength she had left, y/n threw herself onto her feet, knife in hand and vision clearing with the last burst of adrenaline that flowed through her veins. Before it could reach Azriel, she hurtled herself onto the back of it, screaming and digging her dagger into its spine over and over. The monster clawed at her legs, shredding the fabric of her pants and slicing her skin like paper. It didn’t stop her, and with one final plunge into the back of its skull, the monster went rigid and fell onto the ground, leaving her stood before the three males that she was far too relieved to see.

Heaving in uneasy breathes, Y/N rested a hand on her hip, knowing that all the three males could look at was the deep wound settled into her stomach that was leaking blood at the tempo of her heartbeat. “Azriel, I’m sure you introduced yourself to Lorcan and Aedion?”

Azriel didn’t say a word, he couldn’t, not when she looked as she did. Pale. Bloody. Weak. Her hair had become loose and stuck to the side of her face, her clothes were saturated in blood and filth, and her wings. Gods. Her wings were impaled with arrows, feathers askew and some littering the ground.

How she was still standing, none of them knew. They all knew that she should be dead.

It was Lorcan who was the first to move, a male that towered over Azriel birthed by death itself, he moved to y/n, catching her swaying body in his large arms. “Tell me you brought Yrene,” y/n pleaded breathlessly, wincing as Lorcan swept her into his arms with little to no effort at all.

“She’s at that shack you’ve been staying in,” Aedion paced across the ground splattered in blood, her own and the creatures that had shot her from the skies, and rested his hand on her cheek, worry laced in the eyes which were twin to Aelin’s.

“Good. That’s good,” her once pristine white teeth were drowning in an ocean of red, it poured from the corners of her lips, and with a stiff nod from Aedion, Lorcan ran faster than anything Azriel had ever seen, leaving him and the blonde haired warrior alone in the clearing.

“If she dies,” Aedion trailed off, already not enjoying the company of the Shadowsinger considering he had allowed his queen to venture in the void on her own, he turned to Azriel, eyes ablaze and disgust snarling on his lips, “We will tear this world apart.”

We. As in Aelin and Rowan, Aedion and Lorcan, and no doubt the thing they called Manon.

A chill ran down Azriel’s spine at the thought, but all he could do was nod and move back to the cabin with Aedion in tow, watching and assessing him. He couldn’t describe the fear he felt when that rush of power startled him awake, nor the pain in his gut that felt like he was being disembowelled, and when Lorcan and Aedion barged into the cabin with a sheepish woman in tow did he realise just what was happening.

Azriel had called for Rhys instantly before they left for her, leaving Yrene behind to set up her supplies with a paling face, like she could smell in the air what was coming her way.

By the time they had made it back to the cabin, the anguish was palpable in the air. Rhys and Lorcan stood leaning against the beams of the door, both looking up from the ground through their lashes once they heard the rustling of leaves and footsteps approaching. From the look on his face, Azriel knew that Rhys was furious, with him or the appearance of Aedion and Lorcan he couldn’t quite tell but he was leaning toward the former.

“How is she?” Aedion stalked ahead, wanting to go into the room, no doubt because of the bond that flowed between him and y/n, but Lorcan stopped him with a firm hand on the shoulder, halting the warrior before he could take one step further.

Rhys’ gaze fell on Azriel and he cocked his head to the side with no emotion in his eyes, “Where were you?”

“I was sleeping.” Lorcan scoffed at the words, he knew that he would never choose to sleep over protecting his queen. “She told me that she was going to get firewood.”

“And you believed her?” Aedion asked, distaste on his tongue and hatred in his eyes.

“I had no reason not to,” Azriel deadpanned, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of y/n inside, “Will she be alright?”

The observant eye of Lorcan swept over him, noting his desperation, noting his guilt and self-loathing, and he shuffled on his feet, “If anyone can save her then it would be Yrene.”

As if on cue, the door to the cabin opened to give way for Yrene to step outside, and Azriel caught a fleeting glimpse of y/n upon the bed, chest rising and falling with bandages wrapped around her torso and thighs. “She’ll live, but the effects of the poison may last a couple of days,” she sent a pointed glare to Lorcan and Aedion, one of question. “The question is how they got their hands on the only poison that can hurt her, it’s too refined a recipe to live in this world.” Yrene wiped her bloodied hands upon her apron and sighed.

Aedion and Lorcan shared a pointed glance, “Aelin will want her back in Erilea once she hears of this.”

Sighing, Rhys ran a hand over his face, like he knew something that the rest of them didn’t, “Aelin already knows that my sister has been harmed,” his words beckoned the attention of the three males and Yrene, and Rhys’ eyes flickered between all of them, “Aelin is in Velaris. It seems that whatever brought you here did the same for her, and Rowan, and the one you call Manon. And since y/n’s power won’t fully return for a few days, you’re all stuck here.”

Dread settled into Azriel’s gut at the thought of what beating was due to come his way, but he refused to focus on it. He entered the cabin, slowly approaching the bed and drifting his hand over the pallid fingers of y/n, shivering at the cold that settled inside of him.

“I’ll winnow her back. Can you take care of those three?” Rhys appeared at his side, eyes soft as they drank in the corpse of his sister. Rhys moved to her, sliding his hands under her legs and around her back, apologising to her gently at her soundless whimpers.

Once Rhys was done making sure that she was settled and as comfortable as she could be, he stepped backward into the black mists of his power, leaving Azriel alone with three beings he was sure wanted to end his existence.

Authors Note

Sorry this took so long! Life has really been lifing recently 😭

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etheries1015 · 1 year ago

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Obey me x twisted wonderland crossover where MC goes to twisted wonderland from obey me but has their full range of magical powers

Only problem is, they can't really use it.

How would MC feel, hearing over and over about their useless state, when they are infact a rather powerful sorcerer?

pt 2 as requested: Here

Magic in twisted wonderland is managed and flows through mage stones, whilst in obey me magic is by a persons inner nature, and seems to be contained/managed via a wand of some sort (until you become mastered at it, like solomon, who still uses a wand!) Of course there are sigils and and other mediums to be used, however for this scenario, they are dulled thoroughly due to the 1) cut off between worlds and 2) The inability to adapt to a different worlds principles of magic.

Blot just isn't a thing in obey me, MC obviously doesn't have the ability to accumulate blot, so their type of magic is just incompatable with twisted wonderland. So imagine how goddamn frustrating it is when everyone likes to remind MC how magicless they are? And they really don't believe you when you tell them you're actually the apprentice of the most powerful sorcerer in humanity, and can control 7 of the most dangerous demons from your world.

"MC has about as much magical talent as a box of crayons," Ace snorts. He wouldn't be saying that if you just had the power to curse his mouth shut.

"You have no real merits to offer me, not to mention you cannot even use magic," Azul pointed out. If only you could summon leviathan and have him send lotan octavinelles way. They would be sobbing at your feet begging for forgiveness!

And Vil. "You're just about as polished as a sack of half priced potatos!" ...If Asmodeus were there to hear that comment. Vil would get a very analytical lecture about every tiny flaw and detail in his life. Vil would be shattered by the end of it, his pride and what he thought was beauty down the drain.

Crowley laughing at you to your face when you tried to tell him about devildom and where you wish to return. You? A magicless human? Hilarious. Crowley has been through his fair share of "demons" and dark magic, and he definitely did not believe you fit a "summoner of terrifying beings" vibe. If only Satan was there, then Crowley would really understand what it was like to fear something, and regret poking fun at you and taking your concerns so lightly. "If you had the ability to summon powerful demons , how come you are still here?" He mocked you. Of course you had tried, however with the problem being the connection between two completely separate dimensions causing a drift in your attempts to summon any of the brothers, It was nearly impossible. Sigils just did not carry the same amount of magic in twisted wonderland as it did back home.

It wasn't until you held one of the wishing stars (from the "make a wish" event) that anybody began to believe...no, consider your "ridiculous" stories. You held the star to your chest and made your wish of wanting to return home, to which it glowed so bright and cracked. Everyone stared at you as your star shattered, only someone with high concentrations of magic could cause something like this to happen. Since it wasn't powered via mage stone or the need of blot accumulation, your natural traces magic had managed to break the wishing star. Something only someone with a huge pool of magical ability could accomplish, if even.

"I have been trying to tell you guys" you growled, picking up the shattered pieces. Getting over the initial shock of the entire situation, they quickly dismissed it as a faulty star and writing off the strange phenomenon. There is just no way someone such as yourself could possibly hold such great traces of magic that you actually shattered the star, right? They all looked down at you, saw you so much differently, and treated you as such. You didnt belong at that school, and they made it clear. Well.... No matter.

Wait until they realize you finally had managed to successfully contact Lucifer, and they were actively working on your safe return.

And wait until they feel his power when he hears how poorly his little sheep had been treated.

~~~~~

Check out my masterlist for more of my works~

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mt-oe · 4 months ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧…𝐃𝐖𝐌𝐀?—soul eater au mizu!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Firstly, thank you so much for always leaving funny and kind replies on my fics, and being so nice all the time <3 All of you motivate me so much and make me enjoy writing more ////

Second, I know this isn't a request, but it's my birthday today! I have no idea how to celebrate this year and what better way than to make a crossover with the first anime I've ever loved?

Truly, I'm so happy to be making something anyone can enjoy on my birthday. Thank you so much for appreciating my writing <3

Hope all of you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, mentions of weaponry, she/her he/him they/them for mizu, reader thinks mizu is a man

note/s: made mizu the weapon because of the scene where she said she was made of mixed metal

...

Ah...

It's so motherfucking hot.

Is Nevada...always like this?

Fuck.

"How much more?" you groaned out loud to yourself, collapsing on the seemingly never-ending staircase for the nth time that morning. Sweat was dripping down your forehead and back like bullets. You could feel your head pounding and spinning from the sweltering heat, too painful to even look up at the sun that was, quite literally, laughing at you.

But, you knew you couldn't give up right now. Not when the school of your dreams was just at the top, waiting for you. Your index finger hooked itself under your collar as you got up again and started making your way up again. "Ah damn it. Why the hell is the sun laughing?!" you yelled, voice hoarse from the drought in your throat. Step by step and complaint after complaint.

It took you a while—a long long loooooong while—but after a few more collapses and some prayers to Lord Shinra, you finally arrived. Wiping the sweat off of your face, you looked up and marveled at the grandeur of the building in front of you.

Death Weapon Meister Academy. DWMA for short.

The place where weapons and meisters from all-over the globe gather. A well-known institution dedicating itself to preventing the formation of another kishin through training students in combat and teaching to control their abilities as weapons. Entrusted and funded by countries all-over the globe, that's how much of a bigshot this place was.

Everyone on the goddamn planet knew about it. The school that the world's hero headed and where the world's heroes were formed. Anyone in their right mind dreamed of attending school here. Heck, this was your life long dream since you were a little kid. Luckily for you, you were born in a family with a lineage of meisters so admission was an easy process.

Thank you, dear ancestors. I hope all of you are resting well.

With a bated breath, you took a step forward, the wind cooling your body down as you looked around. This place was absolutely beautiful. Even more than what you had imagined or seen in pictures. The strong breeze blew against you, making the vastness of the place felt. Turning around, you gasp at the beautiful view of Death City.

'Guess this'll be my new home,' you thought with a small smile, taking in the scenery. The houses looked like little dollhouses from above, so cute and quaint. Despite being surrounded by the desert, the city did not look even the slightest amount of dead. In fact, it looked quite busy with all the people out on the streets.

You sighed dreamily, thinking about the life you'll be living from now own. All the lessons you'll learn, the friends you'll meet, what the dorms looked like, how the food tastes. You'd probably face a lot problems too.

But, first things first, you have to find a weapon.

That shouldn't be a problem, right? I mean, look around. Students were walking and mingling all around you and some of them were alone. There's probably lots of weapons that were in the same situation as you. Maybe you could ask them?

Stepping inside the building, you fully expected someone, maybe a student or a faculty member assisting the newcomers. But what you saw was the last thing you could have thought of. The moment you came in, by a table where some brochures were placed, you immediately found...a zombie?

You looked up at him, eyes wide open and shaken by his existence. The zombie stared—was he even staring? You couldn't even tell—back at you, a slightly serious but overall neutral expression on his purple face. 'Welcome Freshmen!' the sign above the door near him said. This was definitely a unique welcome. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn't find the words.

...

"Weapon or meister?"

HOLY SHIT IT TALKS.

Your body jolted at the sound of his voice before looking behind you to check if he was talking to you. You nodded before opening your mouth to reply, a string of stuttered incoherent words could be heard before you finally replied. "M-Meister," you replied nervously.

The figure nodded and handed you a brochure and a nameplate with the word 'meister' on it. "You can find a partner inside. If you don't, there's a dorm warming party in the evening." His blank eyes stared at you for a moment longer before he spoke again, "I'm Sid. A faculty member. Welcome to DWMA."

Attaching the tag on your shirt, you nodded at him with a slight smile. Seems like he was a good guy after all. "Thank you sir," you said, heading inside the room.

Inside, lots of students have gathered already. Some were just chatting amongst themselves and some where trying to convince others to be their partner. There were some who were arguing over who another person would choose. However, there were those who just sat somewhere, waiting for someone to approach them.

Similar to them, you sat down on a random chair, looking around at who could be your potential partner. You knew you couldn't choose just willy-nilly. The wavelength of your souls had to match and so does your personality. No one wants a partner that they couldn't get along with after all.

After a few more students entered, Sid closed the door before clearing his throat to gather everyone's attention. "I guess this should be everyone," he said, looking around and nodding. "I'll reintroduce myself. I'm Sid, a faculty member here in DWMA. All of you are gathered here to find your partner."

At the mention of 'partner', your heart began beating faster from excitement. The thought of finally finding someone whose soul matches yours, to go on adventures with and defeat bad guys with, thrilled you. "Once you're sure, head over to me to register. Registration ends a day before class starts."

With that, you pushed yourself up from your seat to begin interacting with others. Though it soon dawned on you that interacting wasn't the hard part nor was it finding someone who's personality was compatible with yours.

It was finding someone whose soul was on the same wavelength.

The first attempt you had tried was with a young woman who claimed to have lived in Nevada her whole life. Her weapon form was a baseball bat, and you would soon come to know that weapons that were incompatible with their meisters were immovable. Literally.

Upon transforming in your hands, an indescribably heavy weight suddenly pulled you down to the floor. With determination, you placed your hands on the handles and tried your best to lift her up to no avail. Both of you apologized to each other before going off to look for another person to try connecting with. In short, your souls didn't match. Incompatible.

You tried again, now with a morning star. Again. Incompatible.

Again. A 9mm pistol? Incompatible.

A butterfly knife? Incompatible.

A sabre? Incompatible.

A gauntlet? Incompatible.

A karambit? Incompatible.

A rapier? Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A sense of defeat washed over you as most people in the room soon found a partner, some even a trio. The event finally ended with you being one of the only people who wasn't able to find a partner. Your stomach twisted with disappointment though Sid tried to reassure you.

After receiving your monthly allowance, you headed to the dorms to finally get your room assignment. You knew it was childish to feel so down especially when the deadline for the registration was still a few days away, but you couldn't help yourself.

'What if I don't find one?' you thought to yourself, frowning as you watched your senior introduce the dorms to everyone. Worry was running through you, making it impossible for you to pay complete attention to what she was saying.

Going up the stairs, you were finally introduced to your room. Trying your best to cheer up, you thought maybe your roommate could be the weapon you were looking for. Or maybe you could be besties or something.

However, as soon as you reached your room, your senior suddenly stopped before you could enter. "Err...I know this is a bit difficult to understand, but as of the moment, you don't have a roommate yet," your senior, who you found out was named Tsugumi, said with a sheepish smile. "B-But don't worry! They said they already had someone in mind. Your roommate just..umm...didn't appear today."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. What do you mean you don't have a roommate yet? Was this some sort of joke? You haven't even made a friend yet nor have you found a weapon, and now your roommate was missing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking a bit nervous from your reaction. You tried your best to give her a smile, but the curve of your lips just wouldn't cooperate as easy as it usually did. "Yeah. I'm okay! Just a bit worried," you replied.

Tsugumi doesn't seem to be convinced but decided to let you be anyway. "I'm sure she's fine. I heard she was penalized for dueling with another student without faculty supervision. She'll probably be here by tomorrow. For the meantime, why don't you settle in?" she tried to reassure you, to which you nodded with a small smile of your own. "I will. Thank you."

After she left, you opened the door to your room before stepping in. Closing the door behind you, you sighed and made your way to the bed. The bed squeaked slightly under your weight, echoing throughout the room. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked around.

"The dorm warming party. If I don't find a partner or a roommate there, I'm speaking to the faculty," you whispered to yourself with a push of exhausted determination. You stood up again and gave yourself a little puff of air. For the meantime, you fixed your side of the room. At least you could pick which bed was more comfy.

---

Evening soon came by and most students in your dorm had gathered to celebrate the dorm warming party, though it was obviously turned into some weapon-meister finding event again, you didn't mind. You were just as desperate as the other students.

As everyone interacted with one another, you once again tried your best to find a weapon whose soul matched with yours.

You met a man, a karambit, who hailed from the same country as you so you got along quite well immediately. Having someone to talk to about familiar experiences especially in terms of culture and tradition comforted you despite your situation. Maybe the similarities you had could tie your soul's frequencies together?

After a few more chats, the two of you decided to try and see if your souls matched. However, upon his transformation, the familiar physical and emotional weight of rejection pulled you down. You, once again, couldn't lift him up. Incompatible.

Oh death, what was going on? Why can't you find someone to be your partner?

Apologizing to the man, you mingled with the other students, determination wavering but not depleted. No, you weren't going to let the night end without a weapon.

A flail? Incompatible.

A scythe? Incompatible.

A tanto? Incompatible.

A machete? Incompatible.

An M16? Incompatible.

A musket? Incompatible.

A double-crossguard long sword?

You didn't even know those existed but still...Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A deep disappointed sigh left your lips as you stepped out of the dorm to get some air. This was unbelievable. You've been trying all day! At this point, you were starting to doubt if you were ever going to find a partner.

Dear ancestors, I'm sorry if I disappoint you.

Groaning, you made your way to the city. Maybe a bit of exploration would cheer you up. Step by step, you made your way down the stairs to the streets of Death City. The streets were a lot more quiet than it was earlier. Only a few shops were still open and it looked like they were getting ready to close too.

It didn't really matter to you though. You were just here to take a walk anyway.

As the night deepened, the streets soon grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon enough, you found yourself lost within the city's labyrinth-like streets. An eerie aura soon covered the dark streets, as if you were going to get kidnapped any mome—Hey no! Don't think like that! You're fine, you're fine! Perfectly fine haha.

Nervously, you hummed a small shaky tune to distract you from the spooky atmosphere, turning around to try and make your way back to the dorms. Suddenly, the wind blew incredibly cold, goosebumps ran down your skin. A feeling that someone was watching you suddenly loomed over you, making your stomach flip.

"N-No that can't be haha," you told yourself, rubbing your arms to try and get rid of the shakes in your system. "The city is safe. The city is safe. It's just my imagination. I'm just really upset and I'm imagi—"

crash!

"—ning..things.."

Your blood suddenly ran cold at the sudden loud sound, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears. That was definitely not your imagination. That sounded very real and that sounded like it happened right fucking behind you.

Hesitantly, you turned around slowly to take a look, hoping it was just a cat or something. But upon looking, the only thing you saw were sharp blue orbs staring at you. Glaring at you.

Oh shit.

Immediately, you sprinted forward, hoping to find someone or something that could help you. Your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and your legs ached as you continued to push yourself beyond the limits of your corporeal body.

This was absolutely the worst day of your life.

First, you couldn't find a weapon whose soul matched yours. Second, your roommate, who you had hoped to be friends with, didn't appear. And now, you were being chased by someone or something that you couldn't even see from how dark it was. Worse of all, you couldn't fight because you didn't have a FUCKING WEAPON!

You could hear the mysterious figure's footsteps following close behind you, chasing you down tirelessly through the dirty and smelly streets. Your knees trembled from fatigue, heartbeat echoing louder than your footsteps. But the person chasing you sounded so close, you couldn't stop now.

Suddenly, the footsteps disappeared, the sound no longer following you as you ran. A part of your brain sighed in relief at it's disappearance, but the other part felt more paranoid from its absence. The logical side of you knew that it didn't disappear. There was no way it would after chasing you for so long.

Your suspicions were confirmed as a new sound could be heard behind you from a distance. Footsteps significantly heavier than those chasing you before. Looking back as you ran, your eyes widened in fear as you saw red eyes staring at you hungrily from a distance. A big burly bald man, reaching past 6 feet, carrying a mace heading your way. To make things worse, as you ran forward, you were immediately stopped as the streets cut off into a dead end, leaving you with nowhere to go.

Turning around, you looked at the person chasing. Without a doubt, this man's soul was definitely a kishin egg. But fuck, you can't do shit. Not without a weapon.

A shaky breath left your lips as you looked up at the sky, slowly accepting that this was where you were going to die. A weaponless meister whose journey in DWMA barely began. Your eyes glazed with tears, both of frustration and fear, looking up at the moon that was...grinning?

"Oh why the hell are you smiling?" you muttered, glaring at it. Hearing the man's footsteps close to you, you turned to look at him fearfully. The man didn't smile, nor did he talk, his arms merely lifted his mace up as he approached your defeated figure.

Man...at least this dude had a weapon, you thought. Ears ringing, you closed your eyes and waited for your impeding death.

...

Why is it not hurting yet?

...

Any moment now?

"Are you going to keep standing there?" a strained voice asked. Immediately, you opened your eyes to see a tall figure, hair in a bun, blocking the mace with what seemed to be a katana. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could, the figure had already turned to look down at you with a glare.

A soft gasp leaving your lips as you saw his eyes.

Blue. Like the ones from earlier.

The hypnotizing shade shaking you to the core, but at the same time hypnotizing your soul.

Realizing that you were frozen in place, your savior let out a loud "tsk" before looking back up at the kishin egg. As the enemy lifted his mace to swing it down, Mizu parried it with great force, a loud metallic crack resonating in the air as small bits of the sword flew. Upon seeing this opening, his hands grabbed your wrist, slipping away from the enemy and dragging you along the streets.

Static went through your mind as the two of you ran. Your eyes never leaving the mysterious new person's figure. It seems that there weapon from earlier wasn't a demon weapon as you expected, so you still didn't know if he was a meister, a weapon, or a regular person. You didn't even know if he was actually a good person.

Your savior wore what seemed to be a haori, tied close with an obi at his waist. His body seemed to be lean and his grip on your wrist was firm, but not enough to hurt you. A gasp left your lips as he suddenly pulled you into a corner, holding your body close to his. His heartbeat was so loud, you could feel it against your back.

"What are you—mmph!" He immediately covered your mouth with his hand, peeking around the corner to take a look at the enemy before immediately pulling back. Pulling you closer, a shiver went down your spine as you felt him lean down close to your ear, breath tickling your skin. "I'll distract him, you run. Got it?"

Breathing deeply, you tried your best to think, but the upcoming footsteps was making your anxiety rise, fogging your mind. With no other choice, you nodded. Taking your signal, your savior released the hand covering your mouth, putting the broken blade down on the ground.

Your eyes widened as you watched his hand transform into what seemed like a blade. Blue like his eyes with wave-like patterns, sharp edge telling you that this person was definitely already used to transforming.

The moment both of you felt the enemy's footsteps stop near your hiding spot, his untransformed hand immediately pushed you away before jumping in front of the enemy. Without another thought, you ran away, feet picking up the pace immediately.

A small part of your heart ached, feeling guilty for leaving the man behind after he had helped you. You felt horrible. Like something was wrong and you should go back to help him. The uncomfortable feeling running so deep you could feel it in your...soul?

You couldn't take it anymore. Before you could go on any further, your feet slowed down until they halted. The moment you did, you heard a loud crash by the street where you had come from, and that was all it took for you to run back.

On the ground, your savior laid, trying to pick himself up, but it was clear to you that he was hurt and exhausted. Your eyes darted for anything that could help you until they landed on the broken blade from earlier. Hurriedly, you picked it up, rushing parry the upcoming attack.

Anticipating the pain of the impact, your savior gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. But to her surprise, the sound of metal crashing against metal could be heard before metal shards flew in the air as you parried the attack with all your strength.

Her eyes widened in shock, hands immediately pushing herself up before his sharp blue eyes glared at you with such ferocity. But before he could tell you to run away once again, you threw the sword away and gripped his hand, preparing to pull him away.

The moment she felt your hand in hers, Mizu didn't know why, but her mind went blank.

The rage inside her quelled and her heart began beating faster. She was so used to fighting alone, to using her abilities as a weapon for herself, to closing herself off. But right now, it felt like she wanted to transform for you.

It felt safe. Like your souls were connected.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Mizu had transformed into a weapon in your hand. A small gasp leaving your lips as you felt her form shift into something different and her weight become lighter. You turned your head to look at her, eyes widening as you gasped.

In your hand was a katana. A beautiful one at that. The blade itself was a distinct shade of blue which reminded you of the sky before sunrise. A wave-like pattern adorned the hamon in an almost artistic sense. Despite the beauty of the blade, the cutting edge itself was extremely sharp. Almost scarily sharp.

The handle felt different to the usual Japanese swords you have seen around the school, having no cords wrapped around it. However, it appeared to be a slight cream-ish white with patterns on it, reminding you of handles made of ray skin. Around the handle, you couldn't help but smile ever so slightly at the menuki wrapped around it. It was...cute. Not something you'd expect from someone so intimidating.

"Keep your eyes on the enemy!" you heard his voice say, snapping you out of your trance. Immediately, you looked up before dodging another attack just in time. Your body shook with fear and the adrenaline rushing through it. You couldn't even feel your face with how scared you were. Before both of you could comprehend it, you were already running.

Fuck. You could feel your soul shaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu could feel the fear running through you too. She could feel how erratic your wavelength was becoming as she watched you flee the scene with her in your hand. But it was no use, the enemy was close behind both of you, hot on your trail.

Your feet continued to run as fast as you could until you found a small corner to hide in. Panting softly, you looked at the blade in your hands, biting your lip in shame. "I'm sorry," you whispered to him, curling up into a ball. "I...I'm scared."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. A part of her wanted to tell you off for being such a coward, but another part believed in you even if she didn't know why. Mizu sighed, looking down at her own feet, before looking off into the darkness. "I understand," he mumbled, making you look up.

He groaned to himself, unable to comprehend how compelled he felt to open up to you. Maybe she just didn't want to admit it, but deep inside her, she was scared too. "I...my soul is impure. Made by a kishin egg's and a good soul," he started, the sudden revelation making your eyes go wide.

"Not many meisters wanted to pair with a weapon whose soul was mixed with a sinners, and those who did...were incompatible." He looked up at you, before giving you a small smile. "That was until you," he chuckled, voice resembling a sigh. "It's fine if you're scared. We're both new to this after all."

You gulped thickly, looking at Mizu guiltily. His story tugging at your heart strings but at the same time calming you. No, you weren't going to let both of you die like this. You're not going to disappoint your savior who trusted you enough to let you hold him for the first time.

Gathering as much courage as you could, you shakily stood up, hand gripping the handle tighter. Her eyes widened as she watched your eyebrows knit together and your slightly swollen lips part as you took a deep breath. Her smile turned into something more genuine, more proud of you. "Look sharp, okay?" Pulse pounding loudly, you made your way out of your hiding spot, scanning the area until you made eye contact with the kishin egg.

The coward in you wanted to run, seeking the comfort of safety. But, you were a DWMA student weren't you? This was finally your chance to prove it.

The ground trembled as the enemy ran towards you, you swinging his mace aiming for your head. Dodging swiftly, you took the opportunity to stab the enemy's foot, making him keel and bend over in pain. With the new opening, you cut his hamstrings to render him unable to stand. All slashes done with ease, amazing you with how great of a weapon your savior was.

In attempt to save himself, the enemy prepared himself and parried your incoming attacks. But it was no use, with how light the katana in your hand was, you easily overwhelmed him, slashing his arm off before finally cutting his head off.

A loud thud could be heard as his body fell to the ground, head rolling to your feet, making you shudder. You watched as the enemy's remains turned to ashes, revealing a soul. A red soul. A kishin egg, as they called it.

You gasped as your savior suddenly pulled half his body out of the blade's sword and reached for the soul floating in front of you. His blue eyes narrowed at it, inspecting it before putting it into his mouth. Your eyes followed the outline of his throat as the red orb traveled down in what you could describe as an oddly smooth but very ever-so-slightly attractive manner.

But wait...

...

I think we forgot an important detail here.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled in surprise, making the man jolt back into the sword before glaring at you. You stared at him, then to the wave pattern on the flat of the blade, then to him, then to the cutting edge, then back at him.

Mizu looked visibly confused as you lifted him up and continued to stare with awe and wonder, wondering why you were acting so weird. "I'm holding...a weapon," you breathed out, grin tugging up your lips. "I'm actually holding one. I'm holding you."

You couldn't believe it. In your hands was a weapon.

An actual fucking weapon. One that didn't slam against the ground when you tried to carry it. One whose soul matched with yours.

Finally.

A katana? Compatible.

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Admittedly, the situation made her feel weird, but the look of amazement in your eyes told her that although she wouldn't like to admit it, your soul actually felt at peace with hers just as hers was with yours.

As if the two of you were sharing a moment more intimate than it seemed.

Taking a step back, you watched as Mizu went back to his human form. You've watched students transform before, but seeing Mizu transform made your heart soar with joy. After all, you were watching your partner transform. Your weapon They were your weapon.

Yours.

His eyes stared down at you as you continued to look up at him in amazement. Eyes tracing his features, taking in every detail, the way his mouth moved as he spoke. The sound of him clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and to look at his expectant expression. "Mizu."

"P-Pardon?" you stuttered out sheepishly, pinching your arm lightly to make sure you weren't dreaming. "It's my name. You'll need it," he said with a nonchalant tone, turning to head back to the academy. Letting out a series of incoherent stutters, you walked right behind him. "I'll need it...?" you repeated, a smile of confusion and excitement tugging at your lips.

"Don't look so confused. You're my meister now, aren't you?"

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