#do you think she ever got to really mourn her ghost

[werewolf-w1tch]

thinking about osiris and guardian culture and lightless guardians makes me soooo ill. do you think he had medical records. do you think they were in any way prepared to treat him. do you think he had a reaction to any of his medications. do you think they had to build his treatment up from nothing bc theres so little info on lightless guardians. do you think the vanguard only started really caring about guardians that have lost the light when it happened to someone close to them (osiris or zavala bc fuck knows eris was on her own). i need to lie down

[michuga]

dream encounter

you meet the man of your dreams. literally.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

warnings: swearing, 18+ content, usage of violent terms, reader is hoooornyyy

wc: ~3k

a/n: inspired by personal experience. i'm still grieving.

you stumble into a dark alleyway, lips locked with another's. coming up for air, you inspect the man practically attached to you.

tall, buff, tattooed, smooookin'. lips plumper than ripe berries and eyes brighter than stars in a pitch black night sky.

god damn.

no time to think.

you grab him by the collar and devour him anew.

you tangle your hands in his soft locks, and he impatiently gropes the flesh of your ass. sighing into the kiss, you rub against his hard bulge.

you have never been so content. truthfully, you can keep going just like this for a few hours, minimum.

"need you," you mumble.

swiftly turning you around, he pins you against the wall. you're sandwiched between the wall and his firm body, pressing against your core just right.

hot breath against your ear, he whispers behind you, "make pretty noises for me, beautiful."

with you distracted, he sneaks an arm across your waist and dips it into your panties.

right as his fingers brush your lower belly and reach where you need him most desperately,

you wake up.

and you scream.

loud.

"jesus did someone die?" your roommate busts into your room, frantic and concerned as ever. "what the hell is the matter with you?"

in silent defeat, you grab your pillow and smash it against your face.

sighing and no longer concerned for your wellbeing, she leaves your room confused but somewhat used to your antics.

rubbing your legs together, you almost cry under your covers. guess your fingers will have to do, yet again.

"you do not understand. that was my fucking soulmate."

"a guy your brain made up touches you once and he's your soulmate?"

"shut up. you literally don't get it. i am so utterly devastated i could kill someone."

"you know what really is devastating? being in a dry spell so severe your brain has to resort to making up hallucinations."

"you have 3 seconds to run before i kill you."

"the only way you'll be killing me is with your delusion. i think i'm good."

"it's not funny! i saw his face, i physically felt his hands! this was like, cosmic. otherworldly. life-changing."

"you mean panty-changing."

"you dare mock my feelings? i woke up and felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it. like my other half was ripped from my hands. like we were connected in a past life. like-"

she snorts, "yeah, connected by divine pussy."

"i'm mourning. i'm mourning and you're laughing."

"mourning!!" she laughs in disbelief, "you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost."

"i swear to god-" you chase her around the apartment for a solid 15 minutes after that.

two weeks have passed since your.. very realistic dream.

you've forgotten about it, but you could feel it in your body that your brain chemistry was altered. people may think you're exaggerating, but you really mean it when you say you haven't been the same ever since.

food doesn’t taste right. music doesn’t hit the same. the sun? dimmer. the first sip of hot coffee on a chilly morning? slightly colder.

maybe your roommate was right. maybe you're simply too touch deprived.

god, this is sad.

as you finish adding the last few things on your grocery list to your cart, you turn around to head to checkout. until you accidentally bump into someone.

"sorry! sorry!" you blurt, immediately bending down to help the stranger pick up what he dropped.

"shit, no worries," he says, crouching down to help you.

and that's when you see it; his tattooed hand.

what is it with you and tattooed men? the universe must really be torturing you. this was like dangling candy in front of a child then snatching it away, knowing you were never gonna give it to them in the first place. cruel.

"you really don't have to, it's fine," he adds.

wait.. that voice? sounds familiar?

you slowly, slowly stand up, heart pounding in your chest, finally meeting the stranger's eyes.

your soul leaves your body. your eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.

you stand there silent, like a damn fool. smiling awkwardly, he takes his stuff and walks away.

you don’t move. you don’t breathe. was this… was this another hallucination? are you so horny that your brain has started projecting men into real life like some kind of thirst-induced hologram?

you slap yourself once. no, surely not.

you slap yourself again. nope. pain is real. surely you’re not that mentally unwell. right? right? you had your mental issues but you were certain none came with hallucinations.

peeking over at checkout, you see him there, bagging his items like it’s just another tuesday. then he leaves, disappearing out the automatic doors. just like that.

you’re frozen, gripping your bag of frozen blueberries like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

he's real. this has to be some cosmic joke.

"babe, life isn't a k-drama," your roommate says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flops onto the couch, completely dismissing your very real emotional crisis. "listen. i know how you feel. dry spells are no joke."

you facepalm.

"no, really!" she continues, undeterred. "one time i went 3 months without dick thought i started having revelations from the heavens above."

you glare at her. "cut your shit, i'm serious! he was real and he looked exactly the same as the dream. maybe slightly taller and definitely hotter, but it was him."

she raises an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her amusement. "so, let me get this straight." she leans in, finally entertaining your story for a minute.

"you mean to tell me that you experienced textbook soulmate-ism; seeing a complete stranger in a dream and then accidentally bumping into him a few weeks later? that you’ve met in a past life, or that your souls are like, intertwined in some deeply meaningful, cosmic way? a destined interaction?" she mocks as she wiggles her fingers, mimicking magic.

she wiggles her fingers dramatically, mimicking magic, and you groan so loud it echoes.

turning on your heel, you storm back toward your room. you don't know why you even bothered to begin with.

"wait, wait!" she calls after you, cackling. "you know, taehyung's not dating anyone right now. want me to send you his number?"

you ignore her, marching faster.

"ooo, since you're psychic now, can you tell me my grade on tomorrow's test? or what my mom's cooking for lunch today?" she adds, trailing behind you like an annoying toddler.

you slam the door in her face so hard the hinges rattle.

serves her right.

you are going to kill your roommate.

one, for not believing you.

and two, for dragging you to a club where taehyung conveniently happened to be, and her only informing you as you were literally walking in.

he's not bad by any means, not at all. in fact, he's got the whole package. good looks, charismatic, talented and has men and women tripping over themselves for his attention.

your point is proven when you immediately spot him speaking to three women. you're no body language expert, but five more minutes of him entertaining them and they're gonna pounce on him.

you're just.. not interested.

you had met before at one of your roommate's work outings. you chatted for a bit, shared a drink. it took you, what? an hour? maybe less, to realize that friends were all you could ever be. the chemistry just wasn't there.

you don't actually hate your roommate for it, you know she just wants you to be happy. you're just irritated because you're so horny. and the only relief you've gotten in the past two years was your recent sex dream. that one touch was enough to send you spiraling into madness. she was right, dry spells really are no joke.

after 20 minutes of forced small talk, fake smiling, and one or maybe two shots later, you excuse yourself to the bathroom; thankful for any relief from this endless and agonizing night. horny and bored out of your mind do not go well together.

in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection. get it together.

you fix your hair, touch up your makeup, and give yourself a little pep talk.

tonight this ends. you’re not walking out of here empty-handed.

be it taehyung or literally anyone else, someone is coming home with you. no more of this pathetic nonsense. your fingers deserve a break. so do your batteries.

as you dry your hands and exit the bathroom, you almost trip. before you faceplant into the floor, firm hands grab your waist, steading you.

you sigh in relief. a broken ankle definitely meant no dick tonight. you were that desperate.

"easy there," a voice says, rich and smooth like velvet and honey. sugar, spice and everything nice.

oh, no. no. no. no.

cosmic joke? this is a full on prank.

your guy, yet again.

at this point, you're convinced you're either in a simulation or someone is filming this for a prank show. whoever was controlling your character needed to grant you some reprieve. some grace, please!

he’s smiling down at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "are you ever gonna say anything?" he teases. "so far you've just ogled me and stayed completely silent. have we met before?"

your brain short-circuits. the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a dreamy and borderline pathetic sigh, "yes, we have."

"we have?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion, head tilting slightly.

"i think i'd remember you," he adds as he grins. that smug, boyish kind of grin.

your heart is doing somersaults, but your brain kicks in just in time. shaking your head quickly, you wave it off like you didn’t just sound like a lovesick creep.

"sorry, no we haven't." you force out a chuckle. "must have misheard."

idiot, idiot, idiot.

he laughs softly, extending his hand, "jeongguk. nice to meet you."

you take his hand, trying not to combust from the electricity that shoots up your arm. instant sparks. "sorry for being a freak. you just... reminded me of someone."

his eyes twinkle. "all good memories, i hope?"

you laugh, nerves making it come out a little breathy.

"thank you for saving me."

you internally cringe at your choice of words. throwing yourself off the nearest bridge would be less painful than this.

'thank you for saving me?' what is this, a disney movie? It’s not like he pulled you from a burning building.

he chuckles, unfazed, and waves it off like it’s no big deal. "see you around, then."

walking away, yet again, he leaves you burning up and in awe.

many drinks later, you end up on the dancefloor, your roommate, god knows where, doing god knows what with god knows who. you've learned not to ask.

you dance (the testosterone) your heart out. you close your eyes and you let go for the first time that night.

swaying your hips, you feel a hand slide around your waist from behind, firm and confident. a spark shoots through you, electrifying every nerve. you're caught off guard, but you don’t stop.

leaning into the touch, your body instinctively recognizes the connection. the hand tightens slightly, fingers splaying against your hipbone, guiding you in perfect sync with the music. the warmth of a chest presses against your back, and your skin prickles with electricity.

you turn your head slightly, stealing a glance at the stranger behind you. but when your eyes catch his—your breath hitches in your throat. all words die right then and there. futile devices.

turning around to face him, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body dangerously close to his. instinctively, he makes a home for his hands on your hips, and like an intruder, makes way for a muscular thigh right in between yours.

"i think you're gonna kill me." he murmurs, his voice low and laced with lazy lust.

looking up at him, you're unable to hide the need that kisses every delicate feature on your face. eyes twinkling, lips slightly agape, eyebrows knit.

you can’t take much more of this.

without thinking, your hand finds his, and you tug him toward the edge of the dance floor. he follows without hesitation, his grip firm, a clear indicator of impatience rivaling yours.

stumbling out of the club, the night air hits your skin like a slap. pure whiplash to your practically scorching hot skin. a giggling mess, your hands tangle with your hot dream man's.

as he calls for a cab, you stand behind him. emboldened by the alcohol and adrenaline, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his neck; inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne. oh how you've missed that smell.

his breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.

minutes pass. no cabs. no patience.

without a word, he grabs your wrist, his touch sending another jolt through you, and pulls you into a dark alley.

holy.

shit.

holy shit?

before you can process it, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. you moan into his mouth, equal parts pleasure and relief. your dark days are behind you. the curse has been broken, your dry spell is finally over.

his hands find your waist as you press into him, mouths moving like you’ve done this a hundred times before. then, with a swift motion, he spins you around, your front hitting the cool, rough wall. his body is a furnace against yours, hands exploring like a man starved.

you can take a wild guess what happened next. only this time, there was nothing to wake you up.

maybe you'll become a psychic medium for a living.

a few months later, you and jeongguk start officially dating.

it was nice to finally put a name to the face.

one lazy sunday afternoon, you're both sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. the soft hum of a movie plays in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention.

"you know i had a dream about you before i met you?" you blurt out, your voice casual but your heart racing the moment the words leave your mouth. sometimes you really are the very cause of your own demise.

jeongguk's eyes snap open, and he tilts his head to look up at you, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "come again?"

instantly regretting your admission, you try to brush it off, waving your hand dismissively as you shift, attempting to slide out from under him. "oh, it's nothing. forget i said anything."

"no, no. get back here," he chuckles, sitting up quickly and grabbing you by the waist before you can make your escape. with surprising ease, he spins you around, pulling you onto his lap.

"finish that thought," he says, his voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"nothankyou!" you squeal, trying to wriggle free from his grasp and attempt to escape once more, but he’s stronger, and it's far too late now.

laughing, he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he gets up; trapping you in bicep jail.

"jeongguk! put me down!" you whine, your fists playfully pounding against his back as you kick your legs in protest. "let me oooouuutt!"

"i will," he says, taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the kitchen, "once you spill."

"fine, fine!" you huff dramatically. "put me down before my head explodes!"

he finally sets you down gently, but not without keeping his hands on your hips, his gaze locked onto yours with an expectant grin.

"well," you start, biting your bottom lip, "before i bumped into you that one time at the grocery store, i had a dream about you. and, uh… you looked exactly the same."

his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, he’s silent. then, a wide grin spreads across his face. "that is the craziest thing you've ever said. and you say some pretty crazy shit, might i add." he leans in closer, fully invested. "what kind of dream?"

you feel your cheeks heat up, turning beet red as you avert your gaze.

"baby...?" he draws out the word, his tone laced with playful curiosity. his fingers start poking your sides, making you squirm and giggle. "what kind of dream?"

"well, what do you think?" you yelp, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you cover your face with your hands. you find yourself wishing once more the earth would swallow you whole.

still confused, he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally dawns on him.

and then, laughter erupts. hearty and unrestrained, gradually making his whole body shake. "so that's why you were so weird back then?"

"gee, thanks!" you shoot back, rolling your eyes, though you can’t help but laugh along with him.

"am i wrong?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you had your mouth open like a fish. i was half expecting a fly to stumble right into your mouth."

"you've made your pointtt," you groan, dragging out the last word dramatically. "it's not every day you meet the man from your wet dreams, so yes, forgive me if i was a little tongue-tied."

crossing your arms, you try to look annoyed, but your smile gives you away.

"oh, i'll knock that attitude out of you," he grins mischievously.

before you can react, he scoops you up again and walks you over to the couch, dramatically plopping you down with exaggerated care. you squeal, laughing uncontrollably as he pins you beneath him, his face hovering inches from yours. you immediately regret your life decisions.

you never believed dreams came true.

but you are so, so thankful this one did.

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @dollyunjinz

[friskyb1tz]

i have a lot of thoughts about a ghost ruth. richie at least got what he wanted before he died, ruth died alone. do you think she would mourn the life she never got to live? over silly things like how she died a virgin to how she died before she could ever be a star? do you guys think a part of her would resent the others for forgetting about her? that she'd resent pete and steph for getting everything she never wanted? i don't think she'd hate them. she'd try really hard to be happy for them, but a small, loud, petty part of her is just angry and miserable.

[transboyswitchytales]

'Get Lost in My Eyes'

Agatha All Along Week 2025 @agathaallalongweek

Part 1, 2

Day 6 Prompt : Soulmates

Agatha Harkness x Reader Witch

“I used to think I was afraid of being lost, but then I realized I was afraid of who might find me.” ― Nenia Campbell, Raise the Blood

Soulmate Au / Love at First Sight Au / Fluff and Angst / Yearning-Core / Lovesick Agatha / Running from your past / Nicky mourning/ AAAWeek25/ MDNI 18+

My Masterlist

Mistakes are mine....because my raccoon brain wrote this super late and I am tired.

Agatha couldn’t believe it. 

She’d been looking for you for the past eleven months, two weeks, three days, four hours, and seventeen minutes. 

Agatha tried to find you in the forest, and she even got your stupid caravan fixed. And you were gone to the wind. 

Even Senior Scratchy told her that he’d wanted to go with you, but that you had told him to look after Agatha. 

Agatha Harkness was absolutely pissed. She was livid, furious to the bone. 

You had the fucking gall to break down all of Agatha Harkness, century old witch murders, every emotinal wall. You made Aggie believe in light and love again. You made her hum in the mornings, she used to hate mornings. She used to hate everything. 

And then she’d seen you in a clearing doing magic, and her world was never the same. 

Now Agatha was left with all the love and yearning and no you. 

She just wanted you back, the second you two fought, she wanted to apologize. But you were gone. 

And Agatha was lost. She’d been lost for about ten minutes, that is, because she knew exactly what she wanted, no scratch that, needed to do. 

She needed you. She needed you like trees needed dirt. Agatha couldn’t sleep anymore. She lay in the bed you used to share in the caravan, and she inhaled your scent. And Agatha had never hated herself more.

She needed to find her soulmate. 

To get you back, and Hecate’s tit, she’d do whatever necessary to get you back. 

So here she was…in the middle of fucking nowhere again. Chasing your ghost, she’d been all over Canada for two seasons, she’d been through the woods. She’d followed the mentions of you like a hound on a scent. 

Agatha begged, borrowed, and stole to get information on you. 

Agatha talked to more mortals this year than she’d ever done before. 

Agatha would take out a photo of you and hold it up to some sorry mortals uninterested eyes. And the witch held her breath and waited, hoping this would be the lead she needed. Sometimes she thought about how she’d tell you how silly this was, because she’d never told you about Agnes O’Connor. But now she really wished those detective skills would work in her favor. 

Agatha found that she talked to you outloud a lot. 

Which was insane, because the only person with her was..a rabbit. Your shared familiar, and he stopped listening to her cry and drone on a long time ago. 

But Agatha talked to you..at first she knew it was nuts because you weren’t here. But after a while she found it was the only thing that made her feel like she was real. That you hadn’t been some trick of walking The Road. 

So she said your name as she drove, or bought gas, or walked up to ask strangers if they’d seen you come through. 

Agatha knew it was insane, really, she did. 

But she talked to you and sometimes..she talked to Nicky. 

She asked him if he was taking care of you.

She begged her son to watch over you and keep you safe…like Agatha should have done. Like she wanted to do, and would do for the rest of her life. 

Agatha had …the first week stopped at a payphone and called Billy. She had demanded he get her in touch with Lilia. 

Lilia had been surprised to hear from her, but she’d said she’d pulled a card. And knew of her soulmate problem. 

Aggie had rolled her eyes and asked if Lilia could mail her a few books on…the topic of soulmates. 

Lilia could be heard smiling through the phone. But she complied like a with with a coven. 

And Agatha had read every book front to back. And she’d need to apologize to you a lot, but that was something …Soulmates were something she’d never let herself believe. And now her tail was tucked between her legs. Because the witch should have known better. 

Agatha knew she’d loved you from the first moment she saw you and your purple. And now Aggie was afraid she’d spend the rest of her miserable long existence sleeping in the woods. Feeding your shared familiar lettuce and asking strangers if they’d seen you. 

Which Agatha Harkness mentally prepared herself for this, she’d do it. She’d traveled to the ends of the earth with this shitty turd on wheels to find you. Agatha had pick pocketed a trucker the other night, taking this wallet with the measly fifty bucks. But also his flip phone, and she’d called Billy and asked her shamble of a coven to try and do a locator spell. 

“You mean you haven’t?” Jen asked Agatha, who scoffed. 

“Of course I have, but she doesn’t want to be found.”

“So what makes you think she’ll let us find her?” Jen gave the sass right back and Agatha hurt Alice slaps her arm. 

“Because she’s not looking to block you, she’s blocking me!” Agatha snapped but there was no bite to her words. The coven only heard the truth, a witch gone to madness with a broken heart. 

“We’ll work on it, honey.” Lilia cut the younger coven members off, knowing the sound anywhere. 

So they did, they worked every Thursday. They’d all drive over to Jennifer’s store, she’d turn the open sign to close. They’d go into her backroom and have circle. 

Agatha would wait by the stolen flip phone…

Billy would call and tell her once again..nothing. 

“I thought I taught you how to do a simple location spell, Billy.” Agatha seethed and she was thousands of miles away and didn’t need to see the teen to know he was hurt by her words. 

But Alice was the one who spoke this Thursday. 

“She doesn’t want to be found, Agatha. It’s not your coven's fault you hurt this witch. And obviously your soulmate would be powerful, because you are powerful. So it would be like someone trying to find you!” Alice said, and Agatha didn’t have anything to reply to that. She just hung up. 

It wasn’t fair, Agatha knew that. It was nice that they were doing this for her every week. Agatha knew she shouldn’t yell at them every week when they called to say nothing had turned up. 

Because, of course, the perfect match to Agatha’s soul would be a powerful witch. Fuck if Agatha was honest how powerful you were was an utter turn on. If not so annoying in this circumstance. 

So Harkness was in the middle of nowhere. 

She pulled over at another truck stop, but this one had an abandoned diner to the side. She turned off the engine and looked at the passenger seat, the one you sat in. The one she talked to. 

“I know, every time I see a diner I think of that day. I mean I think of how you ran away, and how stupid I was not to run after you. I know..I know I’m a moron. Because I think of that moment a million times a day..even without seeing a lame sticky diner. But I can’t help but wonder if I could go back…All the things I would have done differently. I would have asked you about your past, I promise you that. You grew up in Salem too, damn we probably drank at the same places. And…what they called you, those names..Well, you were so alone. And I want to know all of it. I was a coward. Nicky could have told you I was a coward..I promise if I- when I see you again I’ll tell you all about him. He would have loved you….I..I love you.” Agatha said and then turned to the empty seat. 

Before she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Taking the keys out, the one that had your keychains. One of them had an mini Ouija board, a coffin, a plastic encased Alaskan daisy, and a four leaf clover. It was an interesting choice of keychains. Agatha had always wondered how you’d gotten them.

She’d been an idiot. Agatha wanted to go back and slap herself. 

She should have asked you all the questions. 

The ones she asked your ghost now. 

The ones that made her stomach hurt. Why did you always dance to Creedence Clearwater Revival? You put it on when it rained and danced to ‘Have You Ever Seen The Rain.’ But for some reason, you always skipped Bad Moon Rising? Why, why would you skip it? Did it have a memory, did someone you’d loved have a memory with it? Agatha drove herself mad thinking of these things. 

She knew you of course, but in the light of day, it wasn’t enough. Agatha would close her eyes and see the freckle on your shoulder, she remembered that tattoo on your left hip. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what year you’d gotten it. 

And now Agatha Harkness wondered why she’d pretended to play it so cool. Why had Agatha not been a crazed woman and prayed at the deity of you, why now did she have to be haunted to make an altar for you? 

And that wasn’t her waxing poetry. Agatha didn’t change a thing in the caravan. Your toothbrush sat, unused, by the sink. She could’t throw away the Jones Green Apple soda in the mini fridge. 

Why Green Apple, why not the blue lemonade? These were the thoughts that ran through Agatha's mind. 

She’d needed to know her soulmate. Sure, she knew what tea’s you loved, the bands you listened to, the way you ordered your eggs. And for lovers or life-long partners, that was enough, right? But not as her soulmate, she wanted to know why? Had your mother made you scrambled eggs and now you despised them? Had your mother understood you? Did you stop at the side of the road and pick blackberries because you once thought of them as a delicacy? Had you lived off them in the woods while on the run?

Agatha craved these answers. And she’d pretended to be too cool to ask. Agatha had been so used to pretending that she didn’t need anyone. That she’d fooled herself. 

But now you weren’t here. 

And all Agatha wanted was you. 

Opening the truck door, she shivered. It was getting a little cold in the mountains again. But she reached into her pocket for the loose last five dollars she had. 

Opening the gast station door and walking in to find a man with an incredibly long mustache…like down to his knees long. She walked up and pulled your photo out of her right pocket. 

It was very worn, and not the only one she’d owned. But Agatha used this one, because mentally she’d had to fight with herself to show a photo of you at all….it felt like she was giving a private show to a filthy voyeur. Agatha felt possessive over your smile, the way your nose scrunched when you smelled lilac, the gentle way you turned the shower off. All of you. 

So Agatha had battled for this photo. 

Its edges had multiple creases, and the sides were rounded from Agatha’s pockets rubbing against it. Like a sore in your mouth, you can’t stop touching. 

Agatha plastered on a friendly mask and held up a photo. 

“Have you seen her?”

“Who are you to her?” He shot back.

Agatha had heard this response before, and she found it hard to lie everytime, so she stuck to the closest truth she had, her truth, her intentions towards you.

“My wife.”

“What did you do?” He mused a little enjoyment seeping into his tone, and Aggie tried not to bare her teeth in irritation. But her eyes fell to his hand, and she saw a wedding ring. Yeah, she wished she were also wearing one. She’d have to rectify that shit the second she found her witch.  

“I fucked up, so have you seen her?”

“Why not call her? When I get in trouble with my woman, I buy her baked beans. It always does the truck.” 

Agatha held the photo like it was the only thing stopping her from using her purple on him. 

“Her phone's not connected.” 

It was a lie, you didn’t have a phone, Agatha didn’t use to have a phone. Neither of you had needed one before now. Because the only one she’d wanted to talk to was you. And now she’d had weekly updates with a coven to beg them to track you down. 

If it were as easy as calling you, she’d have never stopped redialing. If she could find you online, Billy would have done it by now. Your name only had a million Reddit posts about how powerful you’d been. 

Billy had asked Agatha if he’d wanted her to read it. 

“No.”

“Really? It’s actually really interesting, Agatha, you sure?”

“No, I want her to tell me. I want her story..but I don’t want to hear it from anyone else.” Agatha whispered into the flip phone one evening. 

“That’s actually really romantic.”

“Go to bed, Toto.” Aggie had hung up, and it was a half truth. Agatha wanted to know, of course, she did. But if you hadn’t cheated and read up on her…it felt like being unfaithful to do it to you. Agatha wanted to be someone worthy of the kind of love you gave. And she was sure she hadn’t been in the past, but people could change, right?

Agatha hoped you believed that. Because she’d never have trekked all over the world for anyone else. 

No.

Agatha’s soulmate was worth this and much more to her. 

“You ask her folks?”

“I have five dollars to my name.” Agatha pulled up the crumpled bill and slapped it down on the counter. “If you answer my question, it is yours. Now…please have you seen this woman or not?” Agatha had gotten really good at the word please. She’d never said it before. And now she found herself begging strangers often. 

“Keep the five bucks, lady. Anyone willing to give their last cent must be love-sick to the bone. Yeah, I seen her. You missed her by an hour.”

Agatha’s body lit up like fireworks. 

“What? Which way did she go? Fuck keep the five dollars, did she say anything?” Agatha was practically jumping across the counter. She’d kiss this big man in a minute if he said the right thing. 

“She was up to the cabin, she must have rented it from Kenny. She looked a bit like you in the eyes. Kinda like she hadn’t slept in forever, she must be love sick too. She bought booze and firewood. No food, I asked if she wanted my old hot pocket. But she just gave me this smile, ya know like when someone’s real sad?” He droned on, and Agatha wasn’t sure if this was helpful or making it worse. 

“Can you draw me a map to the cabin?”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll give you a map and I got a key.” 

Agatha was kinda worried that this man had a key, and that he would give it so freely to a stranger. But she wasn’t about to ask questions that could turn the tide for her. He handed an old yellow key to her, and then got out a new map and pulled a broken pencil out of the register drawer. He drew it and then scratched his purple nose once before nodding. 

“Yup, past the broken tree. You’ll see a cutout of Bigfoot. Then some graffiti from 06’ that says ‘The Avenger Suck’ it’s green. You turn left twice and you’ll be there. Can’t miss it.” He said and she pushed the five dollars to him. 

“Nah, lady, I read those Norah Roberts books. This was like that, I don’t need your money.”

She shook her head and left the money. 

“I owe you a lot more than five bucks,” Agatha said, and he smiled a real grin at her. And she grabbed the map and ran out, but she heard him yell after her. 

“GO GET YOUR WIFEY!”

She jumped into the car so fast that Agatha made a big mistake…not buying gas.

About an hour later and it was dark, very dark. And Agatha was extremely lost, but she had the small car light on. And she tried to figure out where she’d gone wrong. 

That’s when fate pissed in her cherios and she remembered that gas was….important. 

Because the stupid home on wheels gave up. And Agatha screamed in the cab. 

Senior Scratchy made an inappropriate comment, and Agatha grabbed the map and stepped out of the broken-down vehicle. 

Her boots fell on gravel and it was cold, very cold. 

But not as cold as Agatha’s heart felt, she was lost, and you were here. She was so close, she was so mad. 

Agatha closed her eyes and thought of that mustached fucker and wished he’d drawn a better map. And then she thought about how whoever Norah Roberts was, she would find out, and curse that bitch. Because love was … exhausting. 

Agatha screamed into the night in frustration, then turned and kicked the fat tire. Her tantrum served to only make her foot hurt. 

But she sat on the side of the road and huffed, a big white cloud coming out of her mouth from the cold. 

Closing her eyes, she pictured you, like she did every time she closed her eyes now. 

Agatha saw you that first day, doing magic.

Her eyes flashed open. 

That fucking mustache man had said for Aggie to call you…She couldn’t, of course. But you’d been doing a spell that day…a soulmate summoning spell. 

Oh god, she’d read about it in one of Lilia’s books. How had Agatha not thought of this? 

The witch closed her eyes and thought back to the spell, remembering your hands. She tried to focus and her fingers went into the air, just like she’d seen you do a long time ago. 

Agatha’s fingers glowed purple, and she tried, and she was sure she was close. Because Agatha swore she could smell your perfume. But she forgot how it ended, and she groaned and dropped her hands. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you more and more every second. I fucked up so bad.  I’m so sorry. Please ….Please, I want to come home.” Agatha let the tears flow, and she felt like a lovesick, stupid teenager. But she was. 

That’s when Agatha jumped because a big jacket fell onto her shoulders. 

Her eyes opened, and you were standing right there. 

“You look lost.” You said into the dark night. 

Her witch. 

Agatha’s soulmate. 

Agatha’s mouth fell open. She was convinced you were a hallucination. That was until Senior Scratchy started to squeak and squal in the caravan. You turned and smiled in the direction of the small familiar. 

Your hair was longer, and you did look way more tired. Like this year had aged you. But Agatha also saw you were wearing one of her shirts and an old Agnes flannel she’d saved. 

But you bent down to a crouching position in front of Agatha. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in Soulmates, Harkness. That seemed like a soulmate summoning spell if I ever saw one.” You said, and Agatha blinked in the darkness, but she’d know your eyes anywhere. 

Agatha kept opening and closing her mouth, but the tears flowed freely down her face. 

You reached forward, and it looked like you’d wanted to wipe one away. But Agatha was disappointed as you stopped yourself. Looking down and then up at the sky, before back into her blue eyes. 

“You know it gets pretty cold out here. Hitchhiking isn’t really a good idea. And I know my boy isn’t much for long walks. So why don’t you let me get you some tea, and you can tell me all about it.” You tell her, and Aggie doesn’t move, but you smile and walk over to the home you’d once shared. You open the door, grab the keys with your old keychains, and scoop up the rabbit. Who is so excited to see you. He starts telling you how Agatha keeps talking to outloud, and she’s gone insane. He tells you about the time Agatha almost left him behind in Nevada. And he tells you how she’s been looking everywhere for you. 

But you just smile as he squeaks. You put your hand out, and Agatha is not so stunned as to not take it. 

When your hands meet, the hair raises on both of your arms. Just like so long ago, and Agatha gasps. The magic surging through her, and it feels like home.

 But you drop her hand and she wants the contact back immediately. 

You half walk half drag yourself to a cabin, and Agatha can’t believe she didn’t see it, it was right there. 

But she follows you into the small cabin. The smoke was coming out of it on this chilly night. 

Agatha looks around the small space, she’s trying to see if there are any traces of another. If you’d moved on, if you’d picked up another witch. She wasn’t above killing again. And her eyes raked over the home, wondering if the horrid, mysterious lover was hiding in the shadows. 

You knew Agatha too well, though. 

“You can stop that. It’s just me. I found a cat, though, but he’s a stray. Besides that, it’s me.” You call out and put the bunny down. Before walking to the small fridge and pulling out some lettuce for the poor guy. 

You put on a tea kettle and open a pantry with a stocked tea selection. You picked your favorite, which was also Agatha’s.

Because that was enough to know you were soulmates. Two witches liking the same tea, the same way, same amount of sugar. 

You made the mugs, but waited for the kettle. 

Agatha stared at your back, she’d been trying to form a sentence. Sorta like the first time you’d met. And words that came so easily to your ghost were impossible now. 

You both were silent until the tea kettle whistled on the burner. You pulled it off and poured the tea. Finally turning around to a very conflicted Agatha. But you waited, not handing her the tea. You just looked at her until Agatha gathered something close enough to speech. 

But you open up the floor when Agatha fails once more. 

“So, Senior Scratchy told me a lot of stories. But I know they can’t be true, right?” You say and Agatha see’s the hurt there. And she ust have shrunk at your words because you are looking at her with so much intensity. 

“You….You walked away and…” Agatha tried to form a smarter thought. What was it about being in your presence that had her quick wit turned so completely void of all mental structure? Agatha tried again: “You are my soulmate and-” You turn your chin to the side and you squint at her like you hadn’t just heard her say that. A wickedly curel smile passes over you and Aggie knows she’s fucked up.  

“The great Agatha Harkness doesn’t believe in soulmates.” You correct the witch. And Aggie feels like this isn’t where she’d wanted to start this. She takes the jacket off her shoulders and puts it onto the kitchen table. She immediately recognized it as one she’d picked out for you so long ago. Before her eyes fall back on yours, a new urgency to her words. 

“Yeah, well, I walked The Road, and that wasn’t real…but that.. doesn’t matter, I kissed you. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, I should have known all along that you were my soulmate.” Agatha tried, and she cursed how bad she was fumbling through this. Ok, maybe she’d pick up one of those Norah Roberts books. She had to get better at this. 

You kick your foot on the floor and look down. You looked so warn down, and Aggie wanted to fix it, she ached to fix it. 

“I always thought The Road was a myth.” You mumble like it’s the important part of what she’d said. Agatha tries to keep you talking, she would rather you keep talking. 

“I walked it, I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Agatha means it, she wanted you to know everything. Every place she’d ever visited, every ailment she’d ever contracted, and every story she held; it all belonged to you now. Agatha wanted you to know it all, she wanted to never have to tell you a story again, because you’d know it all. Even the ones she’d been so scared to share. Agatha knew you’d keep every memory and every deep secret safe. 

But you eyed her like she was full of shit and Agatha felt like the convesation had just backtracked. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Because you talk so much about yourself.” You let out a sad chuckle, like the idea is so far-fetched. 

Agatha felt an adrenaline rush, and she decided to word vomit, even if it wasn’t romantic or right. She needed you to hear it all. 

“I was an feral… I was born in Salem like you..I had a horrible mother. I killed my coven…I didn’t mean to..They tied me up and…And I drained them and I killed my mother. And she hated me, and I fell in love with Death. But it was…not a happy love…not really. And I had a child…Nicholas Scratch. I called him Nicky and Rio; Death, she..she took him. I begged her not to.. He was sick, but he was so smart and good. He was funny and kind.. ..we used to sing about it all about The Road. And the Darkhold..and .. I went to this cursed…town and the Scarlet Witch and the hex and she trapped me…I was Agnes and...Then Rio…Only this time it was a place.. and her son.. My…Well, Billy, who I write those letters to..But we walked The Road and…and I died and then I got my body back and then…I met you….And all of that, all of the hurt and the pain…It all didn’t seem so big, because you looked at me. And….And….”

You waited for her to continue, unsure if Agatha had ever said this many words without taking a breath. But Agatha just kept staring at you. So you helped her out. Because you were going to need a lot more context on all of those words. But you knew what happened next, as you never forgot it;

“And you traveled the United States in a shitty caravan with your familiar and a witch. And then said witch told you about soulmates, and you didn’t believe her. And then you lost her.”

You say it so clinically that Agatha’s fists clench at her sides, you notice it, of course. You just eye her. 

Agatha had never seen you be cold. But she figured you were her soulmate, and she did cold well, why couldn’t you? But Agatha had never gotten this side of you, and she didn’t want to have it ever again.  

“I read up on soulmates in witches, and it’s actually a… thing.” Agatha wants to slap herself after she says it. And you blink twice before your jaw sets to the side. 

“That’s it?” You say, and Agatha swears she’s the biggest word klutz. She puts her hands up to stop you. Hoping she won’t be kicked out of the cabin. 

“I’m not finished.” Agatha tries, and you roll your eyes. Before, leaning back against the countertop like this was too much to stand for. 

“You paused, so I figured you were done.” You snidely say, and Agatha has never seen you this mad. And she knows she deserves it, part of her is just so glad that you are mad. At least she’s in the same room with you again. At least she didn’t find you in this cabin with a lover. 

“I’m not!” Agatha tried, but it just sounded defensive and lame as she said it. 

“This is a really shitty apology Harkness.” You say, shaking your head, and Aggie wants a redo button. Whoever Norah Roberts was she never fucked up this bad. 

“I’m not done yet.” Agatha put two hands out to stop you, but you barrelled through your thoughts all the same. 

“You had a year to work it out, too. Kinda sad this is the best you got. Kinda doesn’t make up for fighting in the middle of a witch hunter territory after killing witches in a diner. Then me telling you the truth, and you standing there and letting me walk away. Doesn’t make up for the year of this shit. You think it was fun to fall in love, and then have you tell me how stupid I was? I should have known better; my own soulmate wouldn’t want me. Who the fuck would right?” You throw your hands up, and Agatha’s heart breaks, and she crosses the space so fast. 

She kisses you hard, and you are shocked. But Agatha keeps kissing you with everything she has, and eventually, you sink into her embrace. Her hands find your hair and pull you impossibly closer to her body. Your hands fall to her hips, and her lips practically burn yours. 

Agatha doesn’t let you leave for air, as she kisses you with such love and intensity that your toes practically curl. But eventually, you are puffing and pushing her hips, but she keeps her hold of your hair, like she’s refusing to give you space. 

You pull back to yell at her. But she doesn’t let you. Agatha’s not going to let you think that shit for another moment.

“I want you, I want you so bad. I want you morning, noon, and night.  I’m so dense, you can punish me for the rest of our lives. Just don’t go. Don’t leave again. Don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I’d follow you anywhere. I’m not lost, not anymore. You are it, you are home. Fuck, I’m I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that wasn’t the first thing outta my mouth. You were right the whole time. I was a fool, a jackass, so bad. Please punish me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I can be good. I can, I can be good.”

The words slipped out that she begged her mother, and Agatha cursed herself. She hated it then, she hated it now. It sounded so pathetic.  

But you studied her, and Agatha couldn’t read your face.

You cupped her jaw with such a delicate touch that Aggie was sure she’d shatter like glass under you. 

“Whoever told you you weren’t good, Agatha Harkness?” You said, cradling her face, and Agatha whimpered. 

“Please.” She begged, and you sighed and leaned your forehead against hers. Both your eyes still looking into each other. Agatha was sure she would dive into your iris’s, she’d swim laps around your iris if she could. She’d lose herself in your gaze, your eyes were the first she wanted to see in the morning and the last sight she wanted to see before she died. 

You take a deep breath and you can’t believe Agatha. 

“Don’t ever say that again, ok? I’m not going to punish you. And you are good, so good. I couldn’t have fallen in love with you to the depths that I am if you weren’t…so you. Agatha, you are so special.” You whisper, and Agatha doesn’t blink, unable to miss a millisecond of this. 

“Don’t go,” Agatha begs, and one of her hands falls to your back and pulls you closer to her so your hips are pressed against each other. 

“Was Senior Scratchy telling the truth?” You ask, and Agatha doesn’t find comfort in that. But she doesn’t need a clock to know, so she answers. 

“I’ve been looking for you for the past eleven months, two weeks, four days, seven hours, and forty-three minutes,” Agatha says, and you smile sadly at her. You correct her, even though it is impressive; the witches count down. 

“I meant that you talked to me.. While you were traveling, that you talked out loud to the passenger seat. That you missed me and talked to me?” You asked, and you were almost ready to cross your fingers. 

“Yeah, the rabbit doesn’t lie.” Agatha licked her lips, not about to half truth to you ever again. 

“I dreamed you did that. I was in the back and I could hear you. But I couldn’t talk back. You were in… Canada? And you told me about Nicky…and you named all the flowers he used to pick..and something about a bell? This sounds crazy…” Your eyes turned to the floor, but Agatha grabbed your chin. 

“No, that’s real. I did that. I went on for like five hours straight about strains of flowers. And that bell, I still have it. He stole it…and I killed a coven and…You heard me?” Agatha said finally, really catching on. You smiled sadly and nodded. 

“You, Agatha Harkness, are too beautiful to be ignored.” You tell her, and Agatha lets out a shaky breath. She’s not sure anyone else has ever given her a compliment that sunk into her skin like aloe on a burn. 

“I wanted you to hear me..I wanted to talk to you so bad. I missed you. I kept buying banana bread at gas stations.” She adds the last part and then feels ridiculous for bringing it up. 

“You hate bananas.” You state, and Aggie smiles, because of course, you remembered that. It was so small, yet Agatha felt victorious. After all this time, you remembered the ins and outs of Agatha, too. 

“But the smell used to fill that stupid cab. And I took it for granted..I mean…I took all of it for granted. The sound of your voice when you get sleepy, the way you write your y’s with that little loop at the bottom, the silly hair ties around your wrist. The way you used to dance in a humid field with lightning bugs on blood moons. I am so sorry. All of you, all the things that make you my witch..I didn’t know how good I had it. But fuck, I do now. I swear I do. Let me make it up to you, please?” Aggie’s hand moved over your skin like she was memorizing you. 

“I don’t know-” You start, and Agatha panic,s and she opens her mouth to plead, but you put a finger over her lips. 

“It could take a really long time to make it up to me…I mean it could take centuries of make-up sex..” Agatha's whole being shifts, her aura color changes, and she smiles so big and tears fall that she doesn’t even feel embarrassed about. 

Agatha kisses your finger and you drop your hand. 

“Centuries of make-up sex, you say?” Aggie can’t keep her giddy feeling out of her face and voice. She’s practically ready to shout it out into the empty wood, she wants to yell it so loud that Billy could hear it states away. 

“You’ll have to be big spoon every night.”

Aggie couldn’t believe it, nothing had ever sounded better. Her eyes couldn’t deceive her, these were your terms and Agatha was ready to sign in blood. 

“Well, that goes without saying, I’ve done a lot wrong.” Aggie plays along even though she’s dying to tell you she loves you. Even though she’s sure you know. 

“You’ll have to make me that dinner with the red potatoes and garlic I like. Oh, and you’ll have to make tea every morning when it’s too cold, and my feet are like ice and I don’t wanna touch the floor. You’ll bring me tea, you make the best tea.” You ramble, but Agatha's mouth is so close to yours as you negotiate, and her eyes are gone. So focused on you, as she nods and her breath lingers on your lips. 

“Whatever my soulmate wants,” Agatha promises to you, and the Goddess that brought you to her. Whatever you wanted. 

“This is gonna take a long time, are you prepared for that?” You move to wrap your arms around Agatha’s neck, and she lets her nose brush against yours. Her grin is so big you wonder if it hurts her face. 

“I’m prepared to put in the work.” She whispers, and your knees feel like jelly. 

“I guess that only leaves one last question.” You say, and your lips are so close, yet you don’t kiss her. The moment hanging in between you, one you’d remember for the rest of your days. 

“Yes, Mrs. Harkness?” Agatha asks, and it’s the sweetest marriage proposal you’ve ever heard. You would use her name forevermore. 

It’s so clear that this witch was willing to pull the moon down for you, Agatha’s eyes shining with so much love that you both would burst. 

“Do you want to get lost with me?” You ask her, and Agatha’s resolve breaks, and she lunges the small distance forward and kisses you so hard you see stars behind your eyes. 

[velvetinks]

His Mug Still Sits on the Counter

Ellie Williams x f!Reader

Warnings: Grief, soft angst, found family, mourning, mild language, mentions of past violence (non-graphic), comfort, bittersweet resolution.

The house hadn’t changed.

Not really.

There were still muddy boots by the door. Joel’s jacket, worn and patched at the elbows, hung on its usual hook like he’d be back for it any minute. His old, chipped mug sat on the kitchen counter—still crusted with the last of some long-forgotten cup of coffee.

You stepped inside behind Ellie, heart thudding. You hadn’t been back here since the funeral.

Since the dirt was fresh on the grave.

Ellie didn’t speak.

She just dropped her bag by the door and stood there for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the room like it was unfamiliar terrain. But you knew better. She knew every inch of this place by heart.

You rested your hand gently on her lower back. She flinched.

Then, slowly, she leaned into the touch.

“He didn’t put anything away,” she murmured.

You nodded, swallowing the knot in your throat. “Didn’t think he’d have to.”

She didn’t answer.

You watched her knuckles tighten at her sides.

Joel had been hers. In ways no one else had ever been. He wasn’t just her protector, or her smuggler, or her second chance—he was her home.

And now he was gone.

You found her in the kitchen a few minutes later.

She had Joel’s mug in her hands, tracing the handle with her thumb like it might fall apart if she let go.

“He always made the coffee,” she said.

“Even though he was shit at it,” you added with a soft smile.

That got the tiniest ghost of a laugh out of her.

“He used to grumble about the water never boiling fast enough. Like the fire was personally insulting him.”

You leaned against the counter. “I remember.”

Ellie turned her head toward you. Her eyes looked dull. Distant. But she was still here. Still trying.

“Do you want me to make you a cup?” you offered gently.

She hesitated.

Then nodded once.

You sat on the back porch with her, the late morning sun warming your shoulders. The mug. Joel’s mug, was nestled between her palms. She didn’t drink from it. Just held it, eyes fixed on the horizon.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It never had been. With Joel, with Ellie—words weren’t always necessary. Love lived in the quiet.

“Do you ever think,” Ellie said softly, breaking the stillness, “that maybe I never told him enough?”

You didn’t rush to answer.

Instead, you reached for her hand and wove your fingers through hers.

“I think he knew.”

She stared down at your hands.

“I was so angry,” she whispered. “For so long. I wasted time.”

“You were hurting,” you said. “Both of you were.”

“But I forgave him,” she added quickly. “Right before—before it happened.”

You squeezed her hand.

“That matters, Ellie. It matters more than you think.”

She bit her lip.

Then finally lifted the mug and took a small sip.

“Still shit,” she muttered.

You laughed through your nose, and that time, she smiled.

It was small. Brief.

But it was real.

Later, you wandered through the house together.

Past the records he never played.

The books with spines cracked from reading the same pages over and over.

The guitar in the corner.

Ellie stopped when she saw it.

Her shoulders drew in slightly.

“I haven’t touched it since…”

“I know,” you said softly.

She knelt slowly, fingers hovering above the strings. Then, finally, she lifted it into her lap and sat on the edge of the couch.

When she played the first note, it came out rough. Hesitant.

You sat down beside her, silent.

She kept going.

Chord after chord, her muscle memory taking over. A quiet tune, not quite a song—something she used to hum when she was nervous.

She didn’t sing.

But she played.

And when she finished, she set the guitar down like it was made of glass.

You reached over and brushed her knuckles with yours.

“You played that for him,” you whispered.

Ellie nodded.

Then she turned toward you, and for the first time that day, really looked at you.

Her eyes were red, but steady.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly.

You leaned in.

Pressed your forehead to hers.

“I’ll always be here.”

She let out a breath. Shaky, but grounding.

And as the light faded from the windows, you both sat there, shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, in the house that Joel built with his own hands.

It wasn’t just grief you felt.

It was love.

It was legacy.

It was everything he left behind.

And in that moment, you knew,

He hadn’t really left at all.

[gotham-daydreams]

Just an idea of mine while listening to like him by Tyler the creator, I cannot fathom just how much this is so relatable to not [] reader bro. So have a bit of a long rant/fic ig, this is up to your interpretation if it's not [] reader or just my version of reader from the not [] series.

(this is my first time writing so excuse me if it's a bit shabby)

Visiting your mother's grave was quite a moment for you, you remember when you would always visit her grave if you could when she just died, but then couldn't since you moved houses, to the Wayne house or manor I guess? ...but now as an independent adult, you can always go to her grave to mourn or just talk to her, just like how you did when she's alive.

Although you never really remember her much, since she died when you were in such a young age you still would remember her words... specifically, this one

"Damn, everytime I look at you i swear to God! " your mother exclaims, looking at you excitedly. She didn't really feel like all of her cursing would effect you negatively much if she just uses it lightly.

"You got his feet, you got his body, you got his long arms, fingers and shit, everything! "

Thinking about it now, do you really look like him?, I mean sure! Your his biological child, not that you wanted to be, there is a research about how the first child to be made largely takes the appearance of their father, but yet again... You were just fine with your mother, plus, everything worked out without him. Before your mother died at least..

Sitting in front of your Mother's grave you think about it, looking at her grave fondly yet there's a glint in your eyes that shows just how pained you are to lose her. Maybe you would've had a different life if she had lived, one that didn't include you having to be so over achieveing just for a sliver of attention from your "family" that clearly didn't care for you.

It was a pretty cloudy day, a bit cold you admit, you should've wear a coat or a jacket before visiting here at least... It feels a bit colder knowing you feel like your being watched somewhere..

"You gave me love.... And affection, attention, protection"

"So how could I ever miss something, that I never had? "

"I would never judge ya, cause everything worked out without him.. "

You never really experienced what it is to feel loved by a father since you already had your mothers love at the time. But she still felt guilty knowing you didn't experience a fathers love, well, you didn't really experienced it either when moving into the Wayne manor..., maybe Alfred is the fatherly love you've experience but technically he wasn't your father...

"Mama I'm chasing a ghost... "

He never really did gave attention to you, affection, protection, attention,love, none of those in all of your time living in that stupid manor, hell, even your supposedly sibling did too, even one of them wasn't all that pleased with your mere presence in this manor.

"I decided to really get that love inside you, I would never ever lie to you"

"You ain't never gotta lie to me, I'm every thing that I strive to be.. "

Music really is your aspiration, inspiration, everything... It's makes you let out all of your feelings to a song, makes you feel a bit better with yourself, its embarrassing to think that you've made a song for each of your "family" member once or twice, only for it to not ever be heard by them, but be heard by other people, strangers.

"So do I look like him? "

"I don't look like him... "

You prayed, hell, begged even, that you do not look like him, Bruce Wayne , god you wished you were not his child, it makes you feel disgusted that you look like your father, a man that never loved or care for you. Only seeing you as a mere obstacle, though you bet he ever see you as one, considering he's too busy forgetting about your mere presence.

"Please... For the love of God, don't tell me I look like him... "

(HOLY HELL THAT WAS LONG, so sorry about that, I just feel a deep appreciation for your writing, you never really talked about readers mother in the not [] series as far as I can remember, so I just made a tiny headcanon, about how reader is fond of their mother but doesn't remember much since she died when reader was at such a young age, maybe 4 or 5 years old, just like any other generic batfam fic, no Offense. I also added some things that are not on the song, as well as changing some of the lyrics, I hope you don't mind and enjoy my poopy writing!!!)

Oh. My. God!!!!

I absolutely love it!!! You can really feel the emotions put behind it, and having the song go through my head honestly really helped with it too! And your small piece really does show how it can relate to the reader in the Not [ ] Series a lot!! Even then it was an enjoyable read and I'm glad you decided to share it!

Sure, maybe it doesn't quite fit my own interpretation, but the fact it fits yours makes it so special and honestly love it so much more then if it fit my own. Besides! I like to leave things a little open so that you can cone up with your own things, just like this!!! The fact you made it just from my silly little fic really inspires me, thanks so much!!

For your first time writing, it isn't all that bad either! Changing some stuff around qas a great choice, and adds more to the narrative you were trying to make, which I actually really love! If you wrote more, even if just for fun and as a hobby, I'd love to see more of your work :]

Nevertheless, thanks for sending this in, and you didn't do so bad! 💛

[wutheringmights]

WAIT ALSO!!! If no one has asked for directors’ commentary yet, i do so now !! 🙇🙇🙇🙇

This is late because of my moral failings as a person, etc.

Spoilers for the latest chapter. Contains discussions of suicide and other triggering content from the chapter.

I want you guys to know that despite taking me two full months to complete, I actually was On It this chapter. I was writing with a consistency that I haven’t had in a long time. Unfortunately, that can only get me so far when a) the chapter is still 46k words long, and b) I had to split it into two. CTB is my never ending hell,sisyphus is happy,  etc. 

I won’t make any predictions about how long the next chapter will be in terms of length or time, but I plan to hop on it ASAP. 

That being said, I hope to spend more time writing about Link and Proxi this upcoming chapter, as they often get the short end of the stick when it comes to my time and attention.

If you couldn’t tell, this was the section that I waited until the very last minute to write, with the final bits of the garden party not being finished and refined until the day of. I’m not too happy with the results, but it gets the job done.

Linkle’s first appearance in the past was way back in chapter 12, where Link sees her practicing her aim. I actually don’t think most people connected that kid being her; I remember someone once sending me an ask about looking forward to Linkle and Link’s first meeting, and me being confused because they already met.

But obviously, her appearance back then was brief and lowkey on purpose because I wanted readers to know how little she mattered to Link. This was supposed to contrast with Linkle’s introduction in the modern day where Warriors very clearly knows who she is and is already over her bullshit; there’s the implied they met before and Warriors hated it that I wanted readers to infer.

Link gaining weight as a sign of recovery, especially when being on the road so much for war business meant that he was often running on fumes; I initially planned for a scene with the tailor where the tailor was going to talk about how happy they were to see so many young men needing to let their clothes out because they were finally out of the dangers of war and eating well. 

In my brain, seeing all of the Knights of Hyrule alive and well in the past after seeing all of them suffer or die in the present is supposed to make the reader feel as disconcerted as Link; he’s not expecting to see them ever again, and now so do you.

In that vein, I wanted Lincoln to be the first one Link sees and talks to, but I couldn’t make it work logistically. 

Nonetheless, I like the idea that after we go through all the mourning and grief of losing Lincoln in the present day, we see him again but wrong. He’s alive and well, but he’s not the Lincoln we know and it’s infuriating. It’s like seeing a ghost. He came back wrong, but not really.

Similarly, it turns a normal bit of banter between Lincoln and Jakucho (“I don’t have a lot of time left on this earth” vs “Neither do I”) into a fun little bit of dramatic irony.

Fun fact: somewhere in the present day is a line about how Warriors hadn’t seen Lincoln since the war that is clearly incorrect now but I have not been able to find the line to stealthily fix it.

That line was there because, while I had the idea of a pilgrimage south to the Spring of Courage (as hinted in the first chapter), I had been convinced I would never have the space to include an arc like that and decided to cut it. As I got deeper into the story, I realized that actually it was doable. 

There was meant to be a lot more about Shigeo, his home life, and estrangement from his family in this chapter that was going to give a bit more context to his suicide; all of this got shoved off to the next chapter so please be on the look out for more belated Shigeo development. 

There’s definitely an argument to be made that giving the Knights of Hyrule (and Proxi) the spotlight now when they are all mostly dead in the present doesn’t do much for the reader anymore. I agree with that to an extent, but I also like how the split-narrative gives the sense that the past is haunting the present. 

Like, now that they are all gone, Warriors is stuck thinking about and remembering them more acutely than he ever did before; it’s similar to how the engineer was the focal point of the past until Spirit entered the present. Then the engineer was gone in the past and Warriors was left to remember the fallout. 

I sort of imagine the plot being something that folds in on itself, you know?

Linkle and Ayane were originally going to run into each other during Warriors and Four’s escape from the Kakariko Well, which was cut for space. If I had kept it, the reader was going to learn that these two not only have met before, but they lowkey hated each other. This question was of course going to hang over the reader’s head until now when we finally see their first meeting. 

Ayane and Linkle’s rivalry is funny partly because they are ridiculously similar to each other, and those similarities is what makes them hate each other. Ayane hates that Linkle has Shigeo’s attention, and Linkle hates that Link is seemingly really nice to Ayane. 

But even absent of their mutual jealousy, they’re both total opposites. Ayane was conceived to be a teenage mean girl who is a little intimidating but overall very cool. Linkle would be more like an enthusiastic nerd-type who would be really annoying. Even if they met each other in completely different contexts, they would hate each other. 

I saw some confusion about their ages as well, so here’s a point of clarification: in the past, Linkle would be 12/13 years old while Ayane would be about 11/12. 

Linkle reads as being more childish because she is; she tends to hide behind cheerfulness, and her response to having Lincoln as her stable parent is to let loose and be irresponsible. 

Meanwhile, Ayane reads as being slightly older because she’s trying to act more mature than she is. Her family puts a ton of pressure onto her to make up for Shigeo’s failures, so she responds by acting like she’s above it.

Generally, I find that maturity levels for preteens in particular can be wildly different depending on the kid. 

Jakucho asking Lincoln about the arson case is a reference to that time twelve year old Lincoln helped Meemaw with tax fraud. I like to imagine that Meemaw knows that Lincoln did it and he knows she knows, but they are stuck in a stalemate about it. 

I feel like that’s all I have to say about the past? This is one of those scenes that really just served to set up much more interesting stuff in the next chapter. Note to self to skim through the chapter agan

The pacing for the present day stuff feels a bit weird in part because I had a list of events I needed to happen before a different plot line could occur, and I never thought too deeply about what order they should go in. I ended up arranging things in such a way that each one would push Warriors closer and closer to the edge. We didn’t get to the actual tipping point this chapter due to spacing issues, but hopefully you’ll see what this is leading up to. 

This scene with Sky was not in the plan. I wanted to open with the next scene: Warriors learning that Ganondorf is on his way to Castle Town. However, the original version of that scene was a mess because the timeskip left me scrambling to quickly explain like 10 different off-page developments. I switched back and forth between the conversation with Endicott and Warriors so many times that even I lost track of what was happening. 

So I split off one of those updates-- Sky and our thoughts on the curse-- into its own section to tighten things up. This gave me a scene where I could talk politics and the curse separately from the Knights of Hyrule and Ganondorf. 

I also worry that I have not been showing enough of the Chain these past many chapters, so having this scene with Sky pretty much forces me to sit down and remedy that.

One of the really fascinating lore LOZ tidbits to me is that there was an entire civilization before the events of Skyward Sword; SwSK is this proto-BOTW in that its post-apocalyptic, and I am so curious as to what that pre-Skyloft world was like. I barely got to reference it here, but I think pointing out that Sky would be to the first hero what Wild would be to Sky is a good vision of what that would mean.

I have been working on improving my writing style, primarily to cut down on over-writing. My challenge to myself this chapter was to let the dialogue speak for itself and edit down on minute body movements and speculative narration. I think I did a pretty good job, and hopefully you guys also noticed the writing being tighter and easier to read.

Like I said, I originally wanted the chapter to open with the announcement that Ganondorf was on his way; I like the idea that he’s this looming presence in the back of Warriors’s brain, like this is a threat even though we can’t articulate how.

Endicott is my choice for MVP of this chapter, somehow. This man was on it with being the emotional support literally every other adult in this goddamn plot.

Funnily enough, I never intended to give Endicott any kind of emotional depth. But when I was introducing him way back in chapter 29, I added that tidbit of Lincoln knowing him as a quick and dirty way to provide some backstory. This snowballed into a full-fledged backstory, and now Endicott has an emotional stake in the well-being of all these people. 

This also led to surprise relationship between Endicott and his wife, and Faiza and her husband.

The newspaper submissions were a lot of fun to write. I actually wrote all of those at the height of the DOGE bullshit, so I was using a lot of public comments about that as inspiration. You can probably reread them all and see how they blatantly echo February’s talking points. 

“Can the real Link Macaryll please stand up?” This line is way more anachronistic than I prefer, but I couldn’t think of another line that conveyed the same wry humor and disdain.

Spirit almost had one appearance this chapter, and it would be meeting him in the hallway outside of Linkle’s door. Warriors would see Spirit hesitating to knock before deciding to turn away. This was cut because Spirit would not only be off doing something else, but it is physically impossible to sneak up on him like that. 

The post-Hot Mess character growth for Warriors is him finding the limits of his “devotion” to Spirit (if that’s the word for it). And this chapter is the fruits of that breaking point, where Warriors is willing to let Spirit slip out of his grasp if only because there are other more important things he needs to worry about.

As many of you already pointed out, a lot of this chapter plays with role reversals. FOr example, there are tons of examples of Warriors playing the role of Spirit, or another character giving a glimpse into alternate fate for Warriors. 

Shigeo plays the role of Warriors in being the person who had done wrong. So we see Shigeo apologize with the same language Warriors has used in his apologies before. But now Warriors is playing the role Spirit, and he can see what the limits of verbal apologies are.

My hot tip for writing overly elaborate stories is to have your subplots and sub-relationships mirror the themes and offer alternate takes on the events of the story; I do the same thing with the House of Nephus being a reflection of the Three Brothers.

When you write a story about a character looking for forgiveness, you have to ask yourself why that traditional apology might not be enough. I feel like a lot of stories that have redemptions or revenge as central themes sort of frame the crimes in question as like a pair of scales that have to be righted. That doesn’t feel right to me-- or at least, feels way too Catholic of a perspective. 

My solution was to step back and probe more into why seeing someone who hurt you move on would infuriate someone, and I landed on how personal responsibility plays into recovery.

This is all probably really simple thoughts, but at least for me, it felt like a better angle than straight up retribution. 

If there is anything I could have cut from this chapter, Icarius and Four’s conversations are prime real estate. However, I kept both of them since it’s been a really long time since we last saw Icarius and I wanted to do more scenes with the Chain.

With Icarius, I mostly needed to go in and throw some lore stuff about him and Nephus’s goals that I think I had up until this point only mentioned on tumblr. 

I have said many times before that I write Four to have low empathy and how a scene that explores this idea has been planned since the Fever Dreams but has been constantly cut out. Finally, it’s here on paper. Thank god.

In the games, the Four Sword is meant to only duplicate and it’s the manga adaptation that spins it as Four’s personality splitting; I decided to marry the two ideas by having the Four Sword be the product of Four’s hubris. Four fucked around, and he found out. 

I never really liked the idea that the Colors are the ultimate version of Four. I have always thought Four by himself is more compelling, in part because you can play with the idea of what a magical split like that could mean for him. 

I was originally going to call the four parts of his mind logos, pathos, ethos, and charisma; but I realized that using terms already firmly associated with building critical arguments would be more distracting than anything.

For those curious: Vio is logic, Red is emotions (both for obvious reasons), Blue is ethics (he’s typically angry because he can only focus on perceived injustices), and Green is charisma (he’s the best at reading other people and conducting himself socially, which would make him a good leader).

As someone with low empathy, it was important for me to establish in-story why empathy is not Warriors’s specific problem. It’s easier than not to say that there is something psychologically wrong with Warriors that made him terrible, and I want to establish as much as I can that Warriors was never pre-destined to be a monster. Everything he did was a choice.

I think you can tell that this conversation with Four was meant to happy way earlier in the story, as it’s not so much of a revelation to Warriors now as it would have been pre-Spirit.

I knew that I wanted Shigeo to commit suicide, but I debated for a long time if that was something I had the right or ability to portray. I worried it would be too much. I ended up going for it because this story is already fairly mature and I knew I was including it for more reasons than just to be edgy. 

I did my best to not sensationalize it without undercutting how tragic this is. My lingering concern is that it happened way too abruptly, like there should have been more time between talking to Shigeo last and him dying. But I also think the abruptness works and feels very real to life. 

While not intentional, I ended up taking a lot of cues for how to deal with Shigeo’s suicide from an episode of the podcast You’re Wrong About. That episode talked a lot about copycat suicides, and one of the guides their expert brought up was to not share the suicide note. That’s why while I did my best to describe the note’s contents, I didn’t write the whole thing. 

I really wish I managed to provide that extra context about Shigeo in the past to help convey what his life was like before this happened. It actually really bugs me, and unlike some of my other writing “mistakes,” this one can’t really be fixed.

The Gossip Stone is the perfect name for a Hyrulean tabloid, and I really hope you guys appreciated that.

Also, obligatory reminder that as I continue to heavily feature the role of media and publicity in all of Warriors’s shenanigans, I am really, really regretting cutting the journalist OC.

There is a lot of politics concerning the government vs the representatives that I know I am not writing well. I feel like I shot myself in the foot by not introducing more relevant politicians into the story sooner and giving them clearly defined agendas. Yes, there are key players like Ganondorf and Zelda, but I’m talking more about these nameless ministers. It bugs me that the Hyrulean government is this faceless entity that exists to be a problem for Warriors without really defining itself. 

Warriors is constantly waffling between maintaining the institution and tearing it down. The latter makes sense to the reader, but I have never put in a good effort to clarify why someone would want to maintain the status quo without sounding utterly evil. If I want this to be a nuanced political situation, I should probably put some effort into fleshing out every side.

Now that I type that out, I could probably get Zelda or Impa to voice that stance, but by then, it might be too late...

Showing Ganondorf utterly breaking down at Lincoln’s death is part of my agenda to show older adults stricken by grief. 

I have avoided giving Lincoln a solid age much the same way I have avoided giving most characters solid ages because I am terrible at keeping track of the passage of time. 

That being said, I wanted the reader to see that he was only forty-eight when he died to be shocked that he died that young. On one hand, his life was cut abruptly short. On the other, everyone treated him like he was unspeakably old and wise despite not being that old.

The tavern was originally going to be called Sal’s Place, but I changed it to Babe’s Spot after I read Torrey Peters’s Stag Dance (which has a character named Babe). 

I also just really enjoy the idea that the only two pictures anyone might have of Lincoln on hand are a portrait of him when he was seventeen, and his wanted poster-- and the bar put up the latter.

Gaudin this entire chapter has been a study in grief. There was of course his denying responsibility for what happened with the curse, and then him breaking down at Shigeo’s death. This scene in the bar is the true culmination of this poor man’s journey through mourning the loss of his friend. 

That moment when Gaudin talks about screaming for Lincoln to come back is probably my favorite moment from the chapter. 

This part of the chapter is called “The Fallen Idols” because nearly every scene features Warriors realizing he was wrong about someone he admires. You can apply that thesis statement to Shigeo, Four, and even Endicott. For Gaudin, it’s that he doesn’t have the strength to pull himself together to do the right or mature thing in the face of grief. 

For Lincoln, it’s that he was a product of a shitty childhood, and that he was as flawed as anyone else. He never actually got over that childhood and has been in a repeating loop of habits and coping mechanisms. 

Last chapter, during his death scene, I was going to have Lincoln vocalize a final moment of self-realization; he was going to tell Linkle and Warriors that he spent so much time trying to just be a better father than his own that he never really tried to be a good dad. Being not-terrible didn’t make him good. 

I cut this because Lincoln is incapable of articulating his feelings clearly, and I had (unrealized) hopes that I could get Gaudin to articulate it. 

Another “fallen idol” in this chapter is, of course, Marigold. More will be said about her in the future, and all I ask is that you be patient and trust that I will provide as clear of an answer as I can to what had happened.

My to toot my own horn, but saying that Marigold was “unspooled” was a purposeful allusion the spool of yellow thread that Warriors used to keep as a memento. The spool of thread was largely featured in chapter 17, and was later traded for a deck of cards.

Alright, let’s talk Ganondorf.

Oooh boy

Let’s start from the beginning. My Ganondorf was created by asking what would a Ganondorf be like if he was self-aware that he was the villain of the series? If he knew that even a morally correct political gambit or revolt would inevitably be interpreted as evil by virtue of his involvement, what would he do? Well, he’s the embodiment of power so he’s going to have to outsmart the story and exert power elsewhere.

I also knew that I wanted Warriors to be outsmarted by a sort of political dark house who he would not realize had tossed their hat into the ring until it was too late.

In terms of story structure, Ganondorf was not brought into the story to embellish Lincolns plotline; Lincoln was brought in to give the reader access to Ganondorf.

On top of all that, Ganondorf’s appearances are and few inbetween. His first appearance wasn’t until I was a year into writing CTB, and he has since only appeared in a couple of chapters at a time, each set separated by a year. Whenever it was time to write him, I had to sit down and figure out what I had to do to lay the building blocks for Ganondorf’s gambit without the reader realizing.

The answer really was to just write him in character. Which, obviously. For example, during the family dinner, Ganondorf and Spirit debate improving trade routes through the desert. Ganondorf outright says that he doesn’t want to do that because he doesn’t want to give up his monopoly on trade-- a savvy if not cunning political move on his part.

Ultimately, him being married to Lincoln did a lot to endear him to readers and discourage anyone from thinking too hard about what he was up to.

Speaking of which-- remember how I did not want to reveal that Endicott was being bribed by Ganondorf, but felt like I had to because of plot reasons? Part of my panic was that I was all but outright revealing that Ganondorf had a scheme and that the reader should be worried about it. I was genuinely frustrated that I had spent years trying to be subtle, only to fumble at the last minute. 

Except, not one reader found it suspicious. Barely anyone remarked on it, and those who did celebrated how Ganondorf came in clutch to save Warriors. I was sitting there like “really???????????????” 

This entire chapter was a series of tiny puzzle pieces I have been gathering finally coming together, and this one for Ganondorf was the most satisfying. You can just tell I was experiencing the euphoria that can only come from seeing years of effort finally pay off.

In terms of the role reversal theme, Warriors embodies Spirit again by sacrificing his life for Linkle’s. He even got the return of the dog motif. The moment he knelt down to Ganondorf was also meant to be a callback to chapter 15 when Warriors knelt to Lincoln and begged for help. Ganondorf even placed his hand on Warriors’s head the same way Lincoln had done to him. Ouch.

Also, I love the idea of a character’s worst fate being to, in another story, win. Warriors is going to make himself the most powerful man in all of Hyrule, and this is his bad ending.

There are a few plot and character decisions in CTB that originated as me being a little “meta” with the fandom at large. Warriors being royalty used to be a frequent LU trope, and back when I was initially plotting the story, I decided to incorporate that into CTB with a twist. 

Ganondorf’s retort for Warriors’s jab about the Triforce (“What use would I have for such a trifling thing?”) was planned for years to be “What use would I have for such a pithy thing?”

Unfortunately, I misunderstood what pithy meant so I had to change it. And it’s such a shame too because, on a audio-level, pithy has a certain punch to it that trifling doesn’t quite had.

Besides that, I just adore how that line illustrates Ganondorf’s point of view perfectly: not only does he not need legend to help him be powerful, but it’s below him entirely. I have to agree with Warriors; by not needing the Triforce, Ganondorf ironically embodies true power.

For the Fallen Idols theme, Ganondorf’s gambit is an obvious example, but Lincoln gets one more fall from grace: did Lincoln know about Ganondorf’s plan.

I want it to be as up-to-interpretation as possible what Lincoln’s culpability is, with evidence being just vague enough that it can be proof in either direction. 

This also means that Warriors’s lying has bit him in the ass once more, as he could have figure out this entire plot sooner had he told Lincoln about Endicott. 

This is also the final example of the roll reversal theme, as Lincoln now plays the role of Warriors

We now have to ask ourselves how much can we trust Lincoln’s change of heart? If Warriors can’t trust Lincoln to have changed for his sake, how can he believe that Lincoln thought Warriors had also changed? The question then becomes not “is Lincoln guilty?” but more “did Lincoln still hate Warriors?” And Warriors has no answers.

And finally, Spirit’s return. The entire next chapter is going to be about him, soI will say nothing about him and his one line of dialogue for now. 

To wrap this thing up: do you think Lincoln knew about Ganondorf’s plan? I would add a poll to measure the results, but I guess we’ll just have to do this the old fashion way lol 

[on-air-with-jax]

To Make You Smile

Synopsis: They say he was born with a smile too big for his face. But that wasn’t the whole truth. The smile came later. After he learned what a mother’s sorrow sounds like. After he decided, with all the solemnity a six-year-old could muster, that he’d never let her cry alone again.

Content: No warnings. SFW. Wholesome Fluff. Alastor backstory glimpse.

Alastor was the kind of child who sensed emotion like a bloodhound, and if it was someone he cared about? He’d use every tool in his little budding showman brain to turn their sadness into a spotlight for joy. Not the fake kind. Not the cheap kind. The kind he crafted just for them.

His maman has got her head in her hands at the kitchen table, elbows resting on a worn cloth, the kind of exhaustion that weighs in your bones, not just your body. Maybe the stew burned. Maybe she got shorted at the market. Maybe the world was just too much that day.

And then here comes her boy. Barefoot. Grinning. Eyes too big for his face, full of mischief and moonlight beneath those curls.

“Ahem,” he says in a terrible British accent, holding up a half-peeled potato like it’s royalty.

“Well I never, Madame Onion, you simply cannot expect me to bathe in that stew. I have standards.”

From the side, a fork wrapped in a napkin leans in.

“You’ll go in the pot like the rest of us, Your Spudliness! No more drama!”

He throws in some sound effects, a splash made by slapping the table, a dramatic faint from the potato, even a coughing carrot.

“My starches! I’m dissolving! Help meeeeee!”

She starts laughing before she even realizes it. A soft snort at first.

Then her shoulders shake. Then she’s laughing so hard she’s crying, and she mutters, “Alastor, mo petit, you are insufferable…”

And he just grins that huge, too-proud smile, standing hands on hips like a tiny showman.

“Yes, but you laughed. So I win.”

And now?

Now when Jax has her head down, burdened by thoughts heavier than stones, when shadows of old traumas and all-too familiar depressions close in, tightening around her like a vice, leaving her quiet and withdrawn in bed, eyes tracing aimless patterns on the ceiling or curled tightly in silence, she feels that gentle, invisible nudge of his presence, pulling her gently back from the edge.

She feels his claws ghosting along her shoulder, not enough to break skin but just enough to remind her who he is.

Then his radio voice:

“Coming to the stage this evening: Lady LaCroix herself, mournful, mysterious, mopey as ever!”

And he launches into a full skit, complete with:

A snobby aristocrat who thinks frowning is “unfashionable.”

A sentient handkerchief who keeps fainting from “too many tears.”

And a dramatic reading of her to-do list like it’s a cursed scroll.

Jax tries to stay serious.

She really does.

But damn it, he knows how to make her laugh.

He knows exactly where to poke, pounce, and twist the moment just right.

Once she finally cracks, when she’s gasping and giggling and holding her stomach?

His grin widens, antlers dipping low in a mock bow and says:

“See? I told you. I always win.”

[lichpoweredbyfandoms]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF ARCANE SEASON 2

So uh…. the end of Arcane tore my heart out and shattered it into a million pieces. I may have blacked out and written a short, post-canon fic of Vi mourning for Jinx. Fic under the cut, or you can read it on ao3 here:

The dust from the war on Piltover had settled. Fires were extinguished, and bodies were buried. A worn hopefulness had spread over the city, broken bones held perfectly still with the slim chance they might mend. Everyone had lost something, and now only the question of what came next remained.

It was late at night, but Vi couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t been able to rest for more than a few hours at a time in the past few days. Most nights, she laid in bed besides Caitlyn, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, clinging to the reassurance that at least one person she loved was still here.

Silent feet hit carpet as Vi slipped out of bed. She let herself wander the Kiramman estate in silence. A ghost echoing through the hallway, haunted by the weight of all she’d lost.

At some point she found herself in the garden. The moonlight illuminated the array of flowers and trees that surrounded a marble water fountain. Vi settled herself at its edge, staring into the water. It shimmered blue, like the hextech crystals her sister had loved. Gentle ripples fanned out from its center with soft splashes, a mimicry of Jinx’s hair, loose and wild as it had been in the cell.

You’re never going to give up on me, are you? Another broken promise, another betrayal, another failure. It wasn’t fair. Vi had only ever asked for one thing. For her little sister to be safe right beside her. She wanted to cry and scream and throw things and rage against the entire fucking world until there was nothing left but ashes, because what was even the point if her sister wasn't-

“Vi?” A soft voice broke her from her thoughts. Caitlyn crouched down next to her, wearing a blue robe and a concerned expression. “Are you alright?”

Vi looked away. “I just needed to think.”

“You miss your sister, don’t you?” she asked as she sat beside Vi.

“She can’t just be gone, Cait.” Her voice cracked around the plea. “Not after all this.”

“What happened to her… I know it was unfair,” Caitlyn said softly, “but you can’t blame yourself. Jinx made her choice.”

“Well she chose wrong!” Vi snapped.

“Maybe. But it was still her choice. Don’t take that away from her.”

“She never really listened to me,” Vi said with a wet laugh, “not when it really mattered. No one could tell her what to do.”

Caitlyn smiled sadly. “Your sister had so much spirit. So much energy.”

“You don’t have to…” Vi sighed. “She killed your mom. You don’t have to pretend for me.”

“I think we’re all more than our worst actions. Your sister included.” Caitlyn reached down and took her hand. “I only wish I’d had the chance to know the side of her you saw.”

“She was so smart. Even when we were little kids. She was always screwing around with some gadget or other.” Vi shook her head with a fond smile. “It drove Milo crazy sometimes. And she was so… good. I know how that sounds now, with everything she did, but…”

“I understand. I saw how much she loved you, Vi,” Caitlyn murmured.

“She just wanted to help,” Vi said despairingly, “even when everything was falling apart, even after I abandoned her… all she wanted was family. That’s why Silco got to her. That's why she died. Because I failed.”

“You were just a child,” Caitlyn reminded her gently.

“So was she!” Vi’s shouting gave way to sobs. “She was just a kid. And now she- she won’t get the chance to be anything else.”

Caitlyn pulled her into a tight hug, and she collapsed into her girlfriend’s arms. Vi wept bitter tears for her parents, their broken dreams for a better world, for Mylo and Claggor, two street kids who could have been so much more than were allowed to be, for Vander, his undying devotion to them all. She wept for Powder, that earnest little girl, and for Jinx, that wild fighter, and for every person her sister ever had been and would never be. And Vi cried for herself- for a family that had gone up in flames twice, for the miserable years she’d spent alone, for the hope she’d stubbornly hung onto all these years that had plummeted into the abyss with her sister. Vi wept and shook and sobbed, letting out all her anguish, all her pain, until she finally reached a point where she had no tears left inside her. Nothing left to give.

“I’m sorry for making you deal with this,” she whispered into Caitlyn’s chest.

“It’s alright.” Her girlfriend pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got you. Always.”

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

At First Sight

In which a mage from Redcliffe meets a necromancer from Nevarra and then...fluff. :) SFW.

If she was being honest, Agnes Aldwir was decidedly not looking forward to meeting their Fade expert.

Not that I doubt Bellara’s contact. Certainly, the Mourn Watch is very respectable.

I just…a professor?

Ugh.

Fucking know-it-all shitheads who love to torture students.

At least that’s how it was in my circle…

However, the moment she caught sight of the necromancer, something within her changed.

Those hands. I’ve never seen anyone wear that much jewelry. So many rings and bangles and fuck me those fingers. Fucking hells.

Wait THAT’S A FLAMING SKULL HELMET THING! Holy fuck that’s so incredible! Wow! Okay, that’s really hot. Yup, very hot.

“Visitors! What a marvelous surprise! Any trouble with the lift? Our last guests were stuck for hours, poor souls!”

FUCK ME SENSELESS HE’S GOT A SEXY VOICE TOO!?!?! I’m in trouble. I’m in so much trouble. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Unfortunately for Agnes, things only worsened when he revealed his face.

“Professor Emmrich Volkarin, of the Mourn Watch.”

I am going to fuck that old man into the next age, and he’s going to love it.

OH NO.

No. No. No. No. No. I can’t be doing this?!?!?! I can’t!!! I’m supposed to be saving the world for insane reasons not lusting after a fucking Fade expert!

Be polite. Be charming.

DON’T BE WEIRD!

***

Emmrich Volkarin had seen much beauty in his life.

Or he thought he had until he saw her.

A goddess stands before me!

“I’m Rook.”

Rook. Dearest, darling Rook.

“Charmed.”

I am not simply charmed, dear lady.

I am enthralled.

O sweet goddess I am yours.

“I liked the bit with the flaming skull.”

She likes—? No. Don’t overexplain. Though I cannot help but wonder if she would listen regardless with that little smile on her pretty face…

“It’s nothing, really, just an evocation of the Flame of the Last Steps.”

When he saw her expression go blank, his heart began to pound.

No no no no no no.

Then she smiled. “Looks great!”

Whew.

He bowed. “Thank you! You know, I’m never quite sure how these spells strike someone from outside Nevarra.”

A distant, piercing scream very clearly startled poor Rook. Oh, you poor dear.

Rook’s eyes darted from the exit to him, and sighed, hands on her hips.

Emmrich clasped his hands together in front of him. “I’d be pleased to continue our conversation after I tend to some small business here.”

Without missing a beat, Rook said, “If you want help, Davrin and I can be of assistance.” IS THAT A GRIFFON?!?!?!?!?! “Oh shit, Assan too! There’s my good griffon baby!” She’s patting the griffon on the head. Like a dog. But that is a griffon!!!!!! “Yeah, so we can help.”

He nodded and then walked towards the exit. “This way, please!”

Emmrich did not need to turn around to know that only a second later Rook tripped over her own feet and giggled, “Oops! Sorry, I’m a bit of a disaster!”

Isn’t she just so charming? Ah, sweet, beautiful Rook!

***

“Is that what you thought of me? Truly?” Emmrich laughed, wiping tears from his hazel eyes. The topic of their first meeting arose during their nightly ritual of pre-sleep intimacy in bed. “Goodness!”

Next to him, Agnes groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly what I thought!” She lifted her head suddenly and laughed. “You made my brain melt, Emm!” Then, to his delight, she tilted his head gently to face her and kissed him soundly. “I didn’t think a skinny bloke like you would ever want me, but I’m so glad you did…and still do obviously.”

Forever, my darling.

I want you forever.

“Always, Agi dear.” he whispered, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Would you like me to read to you?”

Her brown eyes lit up as she glanced at his bedside table. “Ooh is that the new selection for book club?”

He retrieved it from the table and showed her the cover. “Ah yes, it is. A ‘cozy’ romance set at an Antivan vineyard. I’m dreadfully sorry to say I’ve already started it, darling, but I can read you the beginning if you’d prefer.” As he grabbed his gold-frame reading glasses, he noticed her shaking her head out of the corner of his eye. “No?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Nah.” Agnes then settled against him, their shoulders touching, her dark red curls brushing against his cheek. “You know I’d listen to you read anything, love.” Closing her eyes, she hummed, “I may drift off, so sorry in advance.”

Opening the book and removing the bookmark (Agi teased me a bit about my bookmarks having gold in them---she’s such a sassy little thing when she wants to be), he said, “If you do, then the happier I’ll be for it. Now, ahem…” He began to read from where he left off, and when she did inevitably fall asleep, he was indeed happy.

Rest, and fear not, I shall be here when you wake, flame of my heart.

[sleepingdeath-light]

when she’s moved on from chucky hcs ; tiffany valentine

requested by ; anonymous (posted on 14/07/23)

fandom(s) ; slashers / child’s play

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; tiffany valentine

outline ; “Ooh so could you do a Tiffany x gender neutral reader where at the scene when tiff had chucky in his cage, she mentions how she got over him and is now dating reader who Tiff just rabbles about them?

And please take your time on this I don’t wanna seem like one of the impatient readers so do your best!”

note ; this is a repost from a now deleted blog, so apologies if you’ve already read this lol

warning(s) ; allusions to sex, suggestive content

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

she hadn’t thought about her ex in a long time — mourning him for more than long enough when he’d initially passed away before making a point of trying to move on

she’d had plenty of flings over the years — tiffany was incredibly attractive so there was no shortage of men and women ready to hop in bed with her — but nobody ever stayed for long

not until you, that is

you, who was able to make her laugh without any effort

you, who didn’t judge her for her past and helped her take the steps she needed to fully detach herself from chucky

you, who kept a photo of her in your wallet/purse and who would proudly introduce her as your girlfriend to anyone you met

you, who watched all her favourite films with her and who would get wrapped up in the plot without complaining about them being ‘unrealistic’ or ‘silly’

you, who loved her for her mind and her humour and not just her body

you

just you

and yet despite all of that she still couldn’t seem to get away from charles for long because here he was, miraculously not dead and a hell of a lot shorter and more plastic-looking than she remembered

she’d seen his death reported on in the paper

she’d been going to therapy to talk about their relationship and how she was dealing with his loss

she’d moved on and was happy with you — even looking at wedding venues (even if you hadn’t been together very long, but when you know you know)

she’d done everything right and still he’d managed to come back into her life like nothing had happened

it made her angry

it made her sick

so she trapped him in a baby cage and went out for a smoke, ranting with the front door of her trailer open as she made some very pointed gestures and remarks to her ex

how dare he do this to her! how fucking dare he!

who the fuck did he think he was?

why couldn’t he just let her live her life in peace?

couldn’t he see that she was finally — fucking finally — happy after all of the shit he’d put her through?

the sheer audacity had her tonguing the inside of her cheek and reaching for her lighter — she didn’t have enough cigarettes to deal with his shit right now

frankly there weren’t enough cigarettes in the world at all to help her deal with his bullshit, but that was besides the point

she takes a drag from her second cig and now she’s stopped pacing — leaning on the doorframe and facing him head on with more disappointment and sadness that outright animosity

and somehow that scares him more than when she was ranting and raving and screaming at him

she asks why he can’t just let her have one good thing — but it’s not really a question and he knows it and he doesn’t even get to contemplate answering and manipulating her before she continues

she talks about you, about how she’s finally happy for the first time in forever and of course he has to come in and turn it all to shit (she spits the last word like it burns her tongue and continues in a dreamier voice, the ghost of a smile worming its way onto her lips)

‘they’re real sweet, ya know?’ (he doesn’t and she knows it but she continues), ‘they make me happy. we have fun together’

he says that they did too, jumping at the opportunity to reel her back in, but she chokes out a laugh and kicks his baby gate, causing his plastic body to stumble back

she scoffs at him and reaffirms that ‘fun’ doesn’t just mean being an adrenaline junkie — but even then that you don’t put her down or discourage her from doing what she enjoys

you let her have real hobbies, not just ones that benefit you — you even watch cheesy chick flicks with her and, pray tell, when did he ever bother to do the same?

never, that’s when

chucky tries to reel her back in again, recalling the fun they used to have — but he’s already lost

he lost before he even turned up at her front door because tiffany valentine has moved on

she doesn’t just want kinky sex and excitement — she dreams of domesticity and marriage and love

her days of bloodshed and murder are (mostly) over and have been since she settled down

since she fell in love with you

you with your smiles and your gentle touches and your humour that makes her laugh so hard her cheeks and sides ache

you who reaches out first and who doesn’t leave her high and dry and wanting like charles did

you who she loves, really truly loves, and who she’d never even dream of leaving

so she grabs a bottle of wine and tells chucky to keep on talking — because he may not have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning her over, but by god is it cathartic to watch him beg

… maybe she’d even call you up and give him a live show of every single reason, position and sound why you’re a far sight better than he ever was

[persephonememes]

* (  THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ i was just really, really sad. ❜

❛ dead doesn’t mean gone. ❜

❛ i thought i was going to die too. ❜

❛ it only felt like dying because, actually, i was still alive. ❜

❛ to truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them. ❜

❛ we can’t count on the past. ❜

❛ we think we have it trapped in our memories, but memories fade. ❜

❛ you’ll find it much quieter out here. ❜

❛ any of us could die at any moment. ❜

❛ she/he was my anchor. ❜

❛ i’m a lot braver than people think. ❜

❛ nothing holds, and all things change, given time. ❜

❛ change does not often announce itself. ❜

❛ all things fade. ❜

❛ time takes all things. ❜

❛ it is the way of the world. ❜

❛ the past recedes, memories fade, and so, true, does the spirit. ❜

❛ everything yields to time, even the soul. ❜

❛ there’s a difference between feeling good and feeling alive. ❜

❛ funerals are for the living. it’s up to the living to decide what they can and cannot bear. ❜

❛ i don’t know why brilliant young women are always punished. ❜

❛ you don’t have to lose yourself to find happiness, you know. ❜

❛ i was having the strangest dream. ❜

❛ what have you got when your back’s against the wall when there’s nothing left for you but faith? ❜

❛ sometimes, right can seem wrong, and wrong can seem right. ❜

❛ do you know what life is really all about? ❜

❛ save them all if you can, but put your own oxygen mask on first. ❜

❛ death is something to mourn, not fear. ❜

❛ i wasn't going to ask you if you're alright because i don't like being lied to. so, what's wrong? ❜

❛ everyone is exhaustive. even the best ones. ❜

❛ we are meant to die. it's natural. ❜

❛ every living thing grows out of every dying thing. ❜

❛ that's where all it's beauty lies, you know, in the mortality of the thing. ❜

❛ one day at a time is what we've got. ❜

❛ one day at a time is what we've got. it's what everybody's got, if you get down to it. ❜

❛ if you can't feel anything, then i'll feel everything for the both of us. ❜

❛ but no one is going anywhere, okay? ❜

❛ you shouldn't be thinking of losing each-other at all. ❜

❛ don't let that loom over your happiness right now. ❜

❛ it is rare what you've got. ❜

❛ what is the catch? ❜

❛ i’m not running, from anything and it hurts me when you say that. ❜

❛ perfectly splendid. ❜

❛ you have to promise me that you’ll stay in your room. ❜

❛ none of us are blameless. ❜

❛ on a scale of zero to american, how would you rate her? ❜

❛ it’s such a draining thing, dealing with children. ❜

❛ i have an inquiring mind. ❜

❛ we both know you don’t make mistakes. ❜

❛ let me guess, you are to be our very own mary poppins? ❜

❛ i hope she haunts that fucker forever. ❜

❛ why should anyone hate a lake? ❜

❛ let me show you just how beautiful you are. ❜

❛ it’s just you and me then. ❜

❛ look at you all flush. you’re pretty when you blush. ❜

❛ being with him might be scary at times but, it’s also exciting and fun. ❜

❛ and for the first time in my life, that little voice in my head saying i’m not good enough has disappeared. ❜

❛ i’ve never felt so alive. ❜

❛ i swear, you’re such a bore, and you don’t know when the leave well enough alone. ❜

❛ sometimes people just need to be alone. ❜

❛ i couldn’t sleep. i feel like i can never sleep again, frankly. ❜

❛ haven’t we done this already? ❜

❛ i have a surprise for you. ❜

❛ i have a surprise for you. ❜

❛ don’t leave your room at night. ❜

❛ the past is always present. ❜

❛ the stories we tell each other have a way of changing. ❜

❛ love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered and i fear i never will. ❜

❛ no good ever comes from dwelling on the worst. ❜

❛ you can’t choose who you love. ❜

❛ ghosts do not have to be scary. they can be comforting. ❜

❛ the heart is a fragile thing, and it can break in many different ways. ❜

❛ people often fear what they cannot understand. ❜

❛ we are all haunted in some way, by the things we have lost or the things we have done. ❜

❛ death is not the end, it’s just a door we all have to go through. ❜

❛ the past cannot be changed, but it can still hurt us. ❜

❛ the things we bury have a way of finding their way back to the surface. ❜

❛ some people are born to be alone, and others are born to be together. ❜

❛ ghosts are memories, and memories are what make us who we are. ❜

❛ the dead don’t really leave us. they live on in the memories we have of them. ❜

❛ the more we try to run from something, the more it chases us. ❜

❛ we all have a shadow self, the part of us that we don’t like to admit exists. ❜

❛ the world is full of secrets, and some are best left buried. ❜

❛ the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes that can be a terrifying thing. ❜

❛ every relationship is a dance, and both people need to be willing to take a step forward. ❜

❛ life can be cruel, but it can also be beautiful. ❜

❛ we are all just playing a part, but some roles are harder to shake off than others. ❜

❛ the past is written, but the future is still unwritten. ❜

❛ the greatest tragedy in life is not death, but the things we leave unsaid. ❜

❛ i do not like this game. ❜

❛ i'm actually pretty in love with you. ❜

❛ no one should ever need that much help. ❜

❛ you let me handle this part. ❜

❛ the wrong kind of love can fuck you up, follow you and make you do some really stupid shit. ❜

[threeeyedharemp3]

⚰️🕰️🌃 for your two favourite ocs

YAY YIPPEEEE THANK YOUUUUU i also kinda only have. two ocs hehe but YAY i also completey forgor about this so thank you for the reminder also

⚰️ - if your character lost a loved one, what would they do? would they grieve and move on? try to bring them back? cling to their remains?

mihangel has been dead before so his feelings on a loved one dying would be. Complex. because he knows how dark and empty it is to be dead but he also doesnt know if he's remembering right. maybe the afterlife is a beautiful place & he just doesnt know b/c he got pulled back into being alive? he would mourn & try to move on but there's still that nagging feeling of 'what if they really are alone'.

strangeways can talk to ghosts by partially entering their timestream and partially pulling ghosts into the normal timestream and She Would Do This. however she'd soon discover that talking to a dead loved one is actually a Terrible way to your live your life but there would definitely be a long period where she'd Want to sulk & be miserable about it and talk to them in the ghost world, even though it takes a lot of effort for her & only the most determined souls make fully lucid ghosts. especially if they've been dead for a while & are starting to fade, she'd still try to bring them through to this world to talk even when its incredibly draining for her. someone else very close to her would have to convince her to stop. she would be the kind of person to think 'i ALWAYS have to carry this around with me & be sad about it' even though she has an extended lifespan. she would think 'in a thousand years i still have to be upset about this' even if realistically the pain would have faded by then.

more under cut cos this is going to be. long lol

🕰 - what would your character do if they were stuck in a time loop?

YAYAYYYA TIMELOOP I LOVE TIME MESSED UP NESS!!!! they both have Time Things going on hehe

mihangel would. not be coping well with that. in his backstory a Time Thing happened to him that meant that events changed and he is no longer dead, and he would probably think that this is the universe tryng to right itself & fix time by putting him in a loop or a pocket dimension of something. he would be freaking out about being stuck in a timeloop (is he aging? will he ever die? is everyone else looping to or is it only me stuck here? how do i even begin to get out?), she has anxiety which isnt helping. i think (depending how long she's there) she would go through a period of like. doing slightly odd but not actually harmful things just b/c there are significantly less consequences. go for 2am walks by herself. be slightly weird in public. climb up the side of a building and sit on the roof all day.

strangeways would go straight to the 'oh hell yeah, no consequences!!' stage where she'd think 'well if the universe doesnt sort this out in a few days i'll deal with it then, but in the mean time i'm gonna steal a tv and set a couch on fire and go drinking & go to the loudest concert possible' but there would be a deep undercurrent of The Dread. she would just think well surely this will sort itself out soon right????? as she goes out for the 173rd night in a row of wandering around in the dark looking for something interesting to do, as a distraction while she hopes the problem will go away. she'd think to herself 'oh wow i could use this to study so much' only to find that her notes have unwritten themself you know. idk maybe the room wouldnt reset but you get the idea.

🌃 - what would your character do if they were trapped in a labyrinthine city that's alive?

THEYD BOTH BE HAVING SO MUCH FUN AND ALSO BE DEEPLY UNSETTLED BY THE EXPERIENCE YIPPEE

knowing them they'd probably be there together, so. mihangel would be trying to figure out where they are & how to get where they're going & get out again without getting lost/trapped/consumed by the city/etc. probably trying not to touch the walls. he'd be more Disguested when he works out the city is Alive i think. morbidly fascinated but more wanting to just Get Out Of There. strangeways would be pushing button and picking stuff up & being like 'haha wow this is kinda creepy & cool' while trying to cover up that she's actually really unsettled by the whole thing. mihangel would be interested in Looking Around, and strangeways would want to try & communicate with the city, whether or not they can work out if thats possible.

[noonapeeves]

Beyond the Grave: Chapter 4

Hyunjin POV

Good Lord! I can't find some peace and quiet around here. If its not my friends, it's the other ghost in this house. All I want to do is draw and paint in 10 minuets of quiet. My favorite past time. I used to be one of the best painters of the 18th century. I painted everything and anything. I specialized in royal portraits. So good in fact, I became part of the court. Until the Queen consort wanted to bed me and I refused. I was framed with Treason. She set me up to make it look like I was trying to bed her, she said No, then told the king. I was ... executed ... a few days later. It was almost instant that I came back. Walking around the castle, trying to figure out what happened. It took me a few hours to realize I was dead and not dreaming. I finally made it into my room to find the Queen ... weeping. Mourning my loss. The audacity.

It took me a long time to make it to this Manor. The year was 1926 and San Fran was still cleaning up after the earthquake and alcohol was still very much illegal. The structure of the home was absolutely impeccable. The Manor had some force to it. I never believed in the supernatural before moving in. Since, how could any of us really deny it. I know that sounds crazy because I am literally a ghost but Demons, Vampires, and Werewolves. Plus a bunch of other magical beings. Not a chance. I can't believe, I used to live along side them without even knowing it.

I go to set up my easel along with my paint when I hear someone coming in the front door. 'I swear if these kids are coming in here again, Ill scream.' I think to myself. Oh. It's the realtor and our new occupants... woah. They are ... angelic, more than beautiful. I.. can't really take my eye off them.

The one takes off like a bat out of hell up the stairs while the other walks around with the realtor. I follow them as they walk through the house. The realtor asks some questions that got an interesting answer. "Uh. A new start and pretty desperate." Desperate aye. 'What are you running from?' I think as I walk with her into the sun room. She's walking toward the garden, which is Changbin's safe space. She's just so fascinating. There is something about both of them that feels magnetic. Is... Is she looking at me? 'Holy crap! What do I do? Why isnt she running? She's definitely staring at me.' Thank god her friend walked in and I was able to walk back into the parlor. "...What are you looking at?" "Oh you know. Just one of our roommates."

She saw me! I got to tell the others. They will never believe me. I make my way up the stairs and to the attic. Where I accidentally slammed the door. "GUYS" I scream "Hyunjin. They have been in this house for less than 10 minuets we cant scare them away now." Christopher complains "They don't look like lovers. I'm sure they are just friends." Minho says "She didn't go into my garden did she Jinnie?" Changbin asked "She saw me and didn't freak out!" I say "What? Are you sure?" Seungmin ask "I think hes right" Jisung interjects "I overheard them outside saying they wouldn't move." "Oh." Jeongin cuts in "Hopefully they will stay. And they are nice." "Beautiful. They are the most beautiful women I have ever seen." I say. "Here we go. Jisung confirm or deny." Seaungmin says. "I only saw the top of their heads so I don't know." he responds "Oi. Hyunjin. Did you find out anything about them?" Felix asked "Just that they are starting over and moved in here because they are desperate." "Alrighty then. Looks like they are going to stay forever Chris." Jisung says getting up "I'm going to go check them out and see what Hyunjin is talking about." "I'll go with you!" Jeongin says "Okay but-" Chris was cut off by them slamming the door on their way out "- Slam the door."

Christopher POV

They are running from something. But what is it?

Changbin POV

WHY AND HOW DID SHE GET INTO MY GARDEN!?

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

IM SO SORRY THIS IS CRAZY LATE!

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

More Song the Ninjago Fandom is missing out on

Alright folks guess who's back with more songs for you AND a playlist with them!

I've been having fun with this and I love talking about why I associate certain songs with certain characters I love doing it and I really do wish I was able to do animatics myself. But any who here are more songs! (Song-artist)

AS ALWAYS MAJOR SPOILERS

Violet- Marianne Ross: This song is SOOOOO Lloyd thinking about Harumi (I will in fact ignore Crystalized existence again), like it's all about thinking about someone who hurt you deeply and still thinking of them even though they treated you poorly. Lyrics: "When I think of violet I think of you I see you tryin got make is cool" Harumi trying to justify herself to Lloyd. "My mind reminds me of a purple hue, matched the sight of another bruise" Do I have to say more? Like Lloyd clearly cared about Harumi and she emotionally and physically beat the shit outta him

Like a Villain- Bad Omens: This song could totally be used for Morro or Garmadon in my opinion, the song is about someone talking to a person who unknowingly or not pushed them past the edge of no return. Lyrics: "Look into my face then look again we're not the same we're different" For Garmadon this could be a representation of the Great Devourer taking over his mind and transforming him and for Morro this could his transformation from a starry eyes kid to a depressed and evil ghost. "You need a new clean slate with out the dents" This could be either of them addressing Wu cause lets be honest neither of them have an all to peachy relationship with him, Morro especially who saw Wu with this new set of Ninja who are happier than he ever was who Wu treated like family while pretending Morro never existed. "I know that you tried your hardest I know that you meant well but you pushed me to the edge and I slipped and then I fell" For Morro this could totally be Wu's intense training and the way he made Morro believe he'd be the green ninja only for that to be false which kinda drove him crazy, or it could be used for Garmadon on him and Wu's journey in Spinjitzu Brothers to find the tea to heal Garmadon while the journey was supposed to get something to heal Garmadon it ended up just making him feel worse about himself and his place in the world. There's a bunch more awesome lyrics but we'd be here all day if I explained all of them.

Fourth of July- Sufjan Stevens: This one is a teny tiny bit of a reach but hear me out. Zane and his father. So we know that Dr. Julien passes away sometime I believe before season three takes place and it's said he died of natural causes and I'm just saying this could make a pretty decent song since I feel like Zane and Dr. Julien's really sweet father son relationship gets over looked a bit probably since he died so early on and we didn't get to see Zane mourn much afterwards. Lyrics: "And I'm sorry I left but it was for the best" Could totally be used for when Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch and everything. I don't have many particular phrases since the song is almost like a back and forth, but there are a lot of bird references which also works well for Zane.

Icarus-Luvbug: Now this could work for a couple different Ninjago parents since it's mostly about losing a child but I think it would work best with either the FSM feeling bad for what happened to Garmadon (if you want to make him less awful that is cause in cannon his feels about Garmadon are... slightly concerning like sir you're not supposed to hate your own child) Garmadon feeling bad about how Lloyd had to "kill" the child part of himself to lead the ninja, or Maya after Nya merged with the sea and how she wanted to badly to be there for her only for her to end up gone.

Little Lion Man- Mumford & sons: Misako and Lloyd, just trust me okay? Like it's all about someone blaming themselves how someone turned out and in a better world we would have gotten Misako canonically feeling awful for how Lloyd's childhood went due to the fact she decided to dump him gods know where (Darkly's is a boarding school and Lloyd doesn't remember his mother when he meets her so I'm assuming he was probably somewhere else before there?) but instead I'll settle for fan interpretation and I feel like this song would make a great Misako animatic. "But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line" and "Now learn from your mother or else spend you days biting your own neck" and "Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before"

Sorry the list is a little shorter this time but honestly sometimes I don't have full explanations for songs I just have like general vibes, like my excuse is literally just: trust, with little to no explanation. Like:

The Archer- Taylor Swift: Lloyd, Cole or Sora

Don't meet your idols- Everybody's worried about Owen: Jay (cause his bio father was his idol ig?) or Nya (I have no clue man)

Your sister was right- Wilbur Soot: Jay

Punching Bag- The Front Bottoms: Kai

Runs in the Family-Amanda Palmer: Lloyd, Garmadon, Wu, Cole, Sora and honestly just most of them tbh

Friends- Sonic Sea Turtles: Cole, Lloyd, Jay and Garmadon

Idk y'all my brain is actually just one big Lego brick.

[gallifreyan85]

hello again! i hope the week has been kind to you. i read your tags, and review anon is quite a fitting name, so if that makes things easier, feel free to call me that if you’d like! i must admit, i read scare me up just shortly after it was posted, but got busy and couldn’t write this until just now, so i’d like to apologize for how late this is coming in. i really wanted to do it justice and give it the time it deserves.

scare me up (a little bit of love)… ah. how do i convey the ways this story has touched my heart? to start, i’d like to note that i’m particularly appreciative of scratchy’s presence in the story, not only because i love him just in general, but also because he’s maybe the only being that lost agatha the way you did. its implied that you lived with her, and with scratchy as her pet, and you as her student, you were the only ones who were depending on her, and in doing so, knew her better than anyone. ive been curious about the part where it talks about storming off and leaving agatha and billy to their adventures? i wasn’t sure if you planned on exploring where we were/how we were involved when agatha died, but even in just that little bit, you’ve opened up a world of hurt; the guilt of leaving, of not being there for her. because then it’s not just her, but also grieving the time with her you lost to wandas spell. 

you have such a wonderful way of capturing agatha’s signature traits while also incorporating moments of vulnerability. especially when agatha tried to brush off the fact that she’s a ghost with teasing and jokes, but also trying to force you to get over it. it’s possible that she’s genuinely settled with her death, but also, i see this as her trying to understand, since this might be the first time she’s ever had anyone who cared enough to miss her, to mourn her. her entire childhood was full of knowing that she wasn’t worth it, and now, you, her student, are proving otherwise. the moment before agatha wakes up again is one of my favourite parts. would her spirit have heard your heartbreaking while you thought you’d banished her? it makes my heart stop every time, and it’s only when agatha takes her first breath that i can finally take in air again. 

and reuniting with agatha is such a wonderful view into a dynamic that i don’t think we’ve seen with her yet in your other works. regardless of if it’s because she’s freshly back from the dead, or the knowledge that we’ve been learning from her for years at this point, she’s much more openly affectionate, in how she hugs you tighter, in how her voice breaks a little bit, how she tears up. in a way, i think agatha believed that she would’ve never returned, that she didn’t deserve it. her affections seeps through in how she tries to not tease in ways that hurt too much, openly admitting to having missed you, how she holds you tighter and dries your tears. “i thought i would never hug you again” and “i missed hugging you” are so precious to me. two sentences, and yet they’re a vivid glimpse into our past with agatha; we’ve hugged her before, frequently enough that we can remember it and miss it. her calling you kid/kiddo… it’s so important to me. yes i really loved kid/kiddo as terms of endearment before that, but now it feels like it holds even more meaning to me. there’s something so sweet and loving in her gentle exasperation while you cling to her. agatha not being scared to love you is just so uniquely heartwarming.

i loved the detail about the gifts for her that were still hidden in your backpack. i had fun thinking about mug designs that we’d get for her. my first thought was something saying welcome home, but that seems more fitting for the card. worlds best mom would be cute, but I wasn’t sure if it would fit their dynamic. it took a little bit, but i like to imagine that it was a mug that you painted for her at one of those pottery painting places. purple, definitely, her name written all fancy, with stars and bunny shapes around the top and bottom borders. maybe something painted inside the mug, an inside joke perhaps? it also got me thinking about having a matching cup you painted for yourself. i thought of it as yellow (complementary colour to purple), but it’d work with any colour really. i think that little reminder that you and agatha match, that you belong together, would tug at her heartstrings. 

scare me up makes me want to cry in all the good ways, so i cant thank you enough for sharing it with us. (also apologies for this massive wall of text, i didn’t realize how much id written!) once i figure out how to put them into words, i’ll have some headcanons for chaotic mentor agatha to share. and also maybe some headcanons for the forwards, beckon, rebound series- i think about your writing quite often. -review anon :3

Anon, you're so kind. Yes my week went fairly well (I hope yours did too) and you don't have to apologize, don't let me or anyone else pressure you into writing anything if you're too busy, it's alright. That being said I absolutely adore these reviews of yours and always look forward to them, rereading them sometimes gives me a reminder of why I'm writing and just-- brightens my day. So thank you for that. And Agatha... well. I have some ideas about how part 2 should go, and I won't spoil anything but I can say Scratchy will be there again. Agatha can be mean and teasing but still soft and motherly, and I really love delving into that mess of her as a mentor, mother, or really anything else. Don't worry about the ask being too long (i honestly worry about the same with my fics haha) I love reading your thoughts so feel free to write as much as you want. Also I'm looking forward about those headcanons for either of what you mentioned, it just makes me so happy to see someone enjoying these fics/ series. I saw this when I woke up and it made me smile so big. Thanks again and hope you have a wonderful day!

<3