#especially the deep sea!!! there’s so much potential!!!

[acepalindrome]

Every so often music from the Made in Abyss soundtrack will pop up on my Spotify channels, or I’ll get recommended a deep dive of the world building and lore on YouTube, and it makes me so fucking mad. Because the music is fantastic! And as a lover of the deep sea, and caves, and the wonders and horrors of the mysterious unexplored depths, the premise is so up my alley! Massive hole in the earth full of mystery and horror and possibly it’s just Dante’s Inferno that people are drawn to explore despite the fact that it’s a giant death trap? And there’s a whole thing similar to decompression sickness when you’re trying to come back out that gets worse and worse the deeper you go? That’s so cool. Sign me up!

And then you find out the mangka keeps drawing his twelve year old protagonist naked and in weirdly sexualized situations. Like, a lot.

So now I can’t watch this thing even though I love the concept and world building because I’m not touching that shit with a ten foot pole!! Infuriating. Could someone who’s not sexualizing young characters please take this idea and make something with it.

And goddamn, I’m not even necessarily opposed to media featuring harm to children, but there’s a way to do it that’s still horrifying without sexualizing or writing torture porn! Madoka Magica managed to tell a story about young girls suffering terribly without anything sexualize or gratuitous happening! Monster deals with a lot of horrific abuse happening to children, and almost none of it is shown explicitly! It doesn’t need to be! Horror is often more impactful when less is shown!

Anyway I’m just mad that this concept hits so many things I love but is morally reprehensible in what it does with its young children characters. Well, at least I can listen to the soundtrack without feeling gross.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt my salmonid ocs again... I need to design them soooo bad but at the same time I have yet to decide what to do with their clothes as while the traditional battle salmon pant would suffice my need to do needless extra work for the sake of worldbuilding is powerful indeed

[sleepymarimo]

𝕕𝕠 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨?

summary: you're constantly on his mind, but he isn't quite sure if you feel the same. he really can't get you out of his head! pairing: luffy x gn!reader cw: takes place during sabaody, return to sabaody, etc. so potential spoiler warning? an: luffy is such a sweetheart wc: 800 ⤷ based on this song! ⤷ part of this arctic monkeys mini event!

when it came to the pirate empress and her overly affectionate gestures, luffy didn't really feel... well, anything. he didn't pay her any mind. why would he? she wasn't the one running through his mind at light speed. her smile wasn't the one that made the harsh winds and blistering heat of ruskaina easier to bear.

there was one thing that rubbed him the wrong way, though. when the shichibukai would clap her hands together, caress her reddening cheeks and speak in that sultry tone of hers. "i'd make a wonderful wife for you, don't you think?"

an image of you pops into his head, his brows furrowing at boa's proposal.

"i'm not gonna marry you!!" because i already belong to someone else!

two whole years without you? each day felt like a lifetime, that was for sure. it makes him feel even worse when he remembers that fateful day. he swears he can see you. with eyes full of fear and your hand reaching out, you pleaded for him to help.

then? you were just gone.

because he was too weak.

he clenches his fists at the thought.

the events of impel down and marineford served well enough to keep his mind preoccupied. in the times that he came close to death, he'd just picture your smile. now that he was on ruskaina, he had all the time in the world to think about you, to remember every second that you graced him with your presence.

now, he lays on the cold ground after another day of training. of survival.

he wonders if you're out there on the sea, on some island, staring up at the same moon he is. are you smiling? he hopes so, because that would mean you're thinking of him, right?

it feels like ages since he'd last seen you. well, not counting the dreams he had of you nearly every night.

when the thousand sunny comes into view, when you come into view, his heart feels about ready to burst. every molecule in his rubber body seems to vibrate with utter excitement. thanks to his newfound and sharp observation haki, he swears he can feel so much more of you. it's a magical thing, to see and feel your aura swirling around him.

"luffy!" you call, already taking some steps toward him. "look at you, you're so much stronger!"

he snickers and adjusts his hat, his cheeks taking on a rosy color. "of course i am! now i can protect you!" before he can take a step towards you and engulf you in an embrace, the sound of cannon fire rings in the air.

some marine ships put a damper on the reunion, but his smile remains engraved onto his face. because he has you now, duh!

his lips do pucker into a disgruntled pout when he hears that familiar voice, soft and sultry, calling for him. of course the empress had to see him off. how could she not?

"luffy, the kuja will handle these marines!" she coos, unable to quite look him in the eyes. "a wife can't let her husband be hampered down by such weak foes."

the captain sees how your brows furrow, in confusion or exasperation he can't quite tell. he does know that he sure as hell did not want to be called someone's husband, especially in front of you.

"stop saying that!" he'd snap, cheeks puffed and waving a fist in the air. "i already said i'm not gonna marry you!"

his gaze snaps to you, hoping that you'd see his display. he wants you to see that not even the most beautiful woman in the world could sway him. he wants to show you that he wasn't falling for anyone, because he's been yours for as long as he can remember.

when the ship of the kuja pirates is finally out of sight, the thousand sunny plunging into the deep sea, luffy finally allows himself to properly bask in your presence. his grin is all teeth as he approaches you, his chest white hot with a swell of emotions he can't properly label. he doesn't bother to identify them though, for he simply just feels.

he looks for any hint of reciprocation. warmth in your cheeks or a glint in your eyes. however, he's too captivated by your smile to notice any signs that you might feel the same.

rubber arms wrap around you, holding you close and making you feel safer than anyone else on the planet. two years was enough. he wasn't letting you go again, not when he had no idea what was going on in that pretty head of yours. one day, he'd find out.

instead, he presses you into his chest. maybe he hopes you'll phase right through and into his heart.

"did ya miss me?"

taglist: @dimplewonie, @kingofthe-egirls (i hope you enjoy!! and thank you for the req 🫶)

[crystaleclipse10]

A look into the Ninja's powers

Welcome to my analysis of the powers of each of the 6 main Ninja. How each power feels and its source for each Elemental Master, and how it reflects in their personalities. This has headcanons and canon explanation. Hopefully it all makes sense

Cole: Cole’s power comes from deep within the ground. He can feel the power of the earth in his guts, strong and steady. It’s grounding. It’s constant. The earth is always somewhere below him. No matter where he is, somewhere there’s earth—whether it’s deep within a mountain, everywhere; or leagues under the sea; or so far beneath the sky it is practically invisible—it will never not be there. It’s reliable. Yet it takes different forms: dirt, rocks, magma, sand; it’s all part of the ground, versatile. It’s protective; it encases and preserves ancient ruins and fossils, it gives shelter to those seeking refuge. It connects all living things—it reaches every part of the world. It cannot be forced to move, but it can be guided. It is the foundation of everything.

“You've never been farther underground. Never been more surrounded by the very thing that powers you. The Skull Sorcerer thought he was burying you, but what if he was actually bringing you closer to the earth? To the source of your elemental power?” “So what do I do? Try to connect with the earth?” “Perhaps. Or perhaps you just have to stop worrying so much and let the earth connect with you.”

Zane: Zane can sense his ice powers in his mind. It can exist in the coldest of climates, and when it melts, turns into something just as powerful; it is not wasted. It carves its way through anything—glaciers. The rivers of ice creep forward slowly but surely, taking everything in its path. It’s steady and cold, but its bite can be unrelenting. Frostbite, hypothermia—just as cold as ice is. And icicles, especially when shot as a projectile, are like daggers; sharp and dangerous. But it can numb pain. It tames something burning hot into something pleasantly warm. It is hard and strong, but it can crack—and if that happens, it can be made whole again with a little time. It is reliable and quiet. It can create a protective barrier. It’s there when it needs to be.

“This isn’t about numbers…it’s about family.” “He’s protecting us.” “I am a Nindroid, and Ninja never quit. Go Ninja, go!”

Jay: Lightning. He can feel it buzzing on his skin and nerves, able to be condensed and controlled. Pure energy, electricity. It’s volatile and dangerous. But it can be essential to life. It’s everywhere—thunderstorms, static, neurons firing in the brain. If it wasn’t for electricity, the brain would cease to function and life couldn’t exist. It’s quick—blink and it’s gone, just a thread of light that comes and goes. But its impact is remembered. A thunderous boom, a scar of soot, sometimes even a blaze set in its wake. Its glow is practically too bright to look at; a source of light for even the darkest of caves. Just one spark can start a fire or illuminate a building. It’s a source of power—for vehicles, technology, buildings. Even though it is not always visible, lightning and electricity are all around, ready to be called upon.

“Control the power inside you. When you feel a surge welling up, harness it.”

Kai: Kai’s power over fire comes from the breath—air is fuel for fire, and controlled breathing can control the blaze. It is not a matter of force—though hot anger can stoke fire—but harnessing the buzzing potential in the air. Fire can be destructive; a wildfire is chaotic, unyielding, and intense, burning everything in its path. But it can be life-giving, too. It’s cozy. It provides warmth on the coldest of nights. It can cook food, boil water, ward off frost. It is the essence of the sun—the largest blaze that allows life to exist. It burns with passion and ferocity, but if it loses strength, there will always be an ember remaining. Almost nothing can beat back a big, hot fire. It can be a weapon or a defense; it hurts to touch, and no one without immunity would dare go near. Without fire, life could not be sustained.

“I just wish I still had my powers. I was Master of Fire. I could've made a new fire like—like...like this.” “Oh, do not worry, Kai. Elemental Power comes from within, like courage. Sometimes it wanes, sometimes it waxes, but it cannot be stolen.”

Nya: The power of water flows through her veins. Water is ever-changing and powerful. Even the strongest rocks erode under the power of water. It’s relentless. It can defeat ghosts because it is always changing and shifting, while ghosts are stuck trying to be one thing and refuse to change. It cleanses and heals. The first thing to do for something dirty is to wash it with water. And it’s part of blood, something vital for people to live. It’s restless. The ocean never stays still; it does not like to be contained. The tides are as constant as they are powerful. The entire ocean moves with the tides; the constant in and out of so much water shapes the coasts. Rivers bend and flow around obstacles; no matter what is in the way, it will eventually reach the ocean—the largest body of water filled with plants and animals. Water supports life and creates ecosystems. It’s the heart of the wild.

“Jay, the ocean's good for much more than food. As we go deeper, I can feel its elemental power growing. It's almost overwhelming.”

Lloyd: Perhaps the most vague but also the most powerful element is Lloyd’s. Is it Power? Creation? Energy? Life? Lloyd is connected to the Source Dragon of Life, not Energy. Whatever the case, it comes from his heart. If it is Life, that is where it is strongest—the beating of a heart shows life in a living being; it is impossible to live without a heart. It’s everywhere—inside Lloyd, in his comrades, his students, his masters, nature around him. His love for the world is his true self and makes his heart powerful. His goodness gives him strength. His drive to save the world fuels his passion. Life is inside of him, but it can also be taken away. It can heal, but also hurt. When it is taken away, overused, or corrupted, it leaves him weakened and sick. But it can save his life in a fight—and it has. It is a combination of the core elements of Creation: Lightning, Ice, Fire, and Earth—LIFE (thank you @secretlyharumi for helping me realize this!). They can be utilized individually, but also combined into something potent and beautiful. Without life, nothing would exist. It is the thread of the universe, stitching together things similar and different; big and small.

“I’m already the Golden Ninja. How much more power do I need?” “You’ve only scratched the surface! You have the potential to move mountains. Power of the First Spinjitzu Master!”

I like the idea the Ninja's personalities and powers are mixed

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[yoroshiu]

Thinking about Kingdom Hearts' narrative with communication.

As with a lot of conflicts in story and real life, much of the most heart wrenching stuff in this series stems from a lack of communication or a severe misunderstanding between characters.

The Foretellers fall apart due to mistrust that was bred in between them, as according to the Master of Master's plan, and a lot of their interactions are full of deceit and witholding information. In an effort for most of them to do what MoM says while simultaneously realizing that they could go against his word to save the world, it inevitably leads to war.

Baldr, in his grief, is kept separate from his friends, alone until the darkness overtakes him and he ends up being consumed by it. As a result, everyone is taken by surprise and there's already too many bodies piled up by the time he's dealt with. Even when Hoder appears before him, they are unable to meet in the middle and turn on each other. He ends up killing many friends and plants a seed into what Xehanort becomes.

The basis of the Wayfinders and Eraqus is that they constantly don't talk to each other properly, pushing each other away until their tragedy becomes inescapable. Eraqus not telling his students about anything Xehanort has done, for instilling such an unforgiving view of Light and Darkness, for not telling Ventus the truth until it was too late. Terra, Aqua, and Ventus not being able to talk or clear things up until Xehanort is already beyond knees deep into his plans, and despite having their love for each other go beyond any possible discord, it is not enough to prevent unfortunate fates that befall them.

The Destiny Trio, especially Riku earlier on, suffers from a lack of communication. While not as turbulent as the other trios, it's Riku's tendency to hide away and lash out that builds the conflict between him and Sora. For one reason or another, a quite literal and physical reason for Kairi, they were unable to talk which goes on and on until RIku gets possessed. And it his shame that pushes him to hide for such a long time in the second game as well. Sora has also picked up on not saying anything, deciding to perish without letting anyone know beforehand, and the full-on effects of that have yet to be explored.

The Sea Salt Trio was built on miscommunication. Secrets, unknowns, caring so much that you believe that it'd be much better to fade away without a word than to burden someone with the pain of truth and knowledge. It drives a wedge between Roxas, Axel, and Xion at multiple points. Axel, who was stuck between loyalties, kept information to himself and ended up driving Roxas and Xion away at one point and another. Xion, who found out the truth and also made big decisions without fully explaining to the other two, also inevitably leaves a grief that digs into them even when they don't remember her. And Roxas, who was the probably the biggest victim of not being told anything, ends up barrelling forward, trust broken up until the pieces finally fell in place and he had to accept his fate in tired resignation.

But it's when love overcomes the lies, clearing them away that these groups of friends can come together and start again.

A lot of the emotional turmoil that Kingdom Hearts displays often comes from the very human act of communication with others and how often we fail to do so. The fragility that comes with one kept secret, or one mispoken phrase. How badly people get torn apart when no one says anything. Yet, it also shows how it can potentially be overcome with enough love and determination to recover what was lost, and even if it's not the same as before, there's potential to make things better.

TLDR; Connections are the basis of Kingdom Hearts. Communication is a foundation of connection. The highs and lows of communication is something that Kingdom Hearts explores extensively in the stories of its characters, and that has resonated with me so heavily that I stay up thinking about it.

[baekhyoris]

may i hear u ramble about insecure reader wanting to live up to the hyuga name after marrying neji … constantly feeling like they’re falling short or feeling like an outcast … neji comforting them … bubububu…

ANON YOUR BRAIN IS SO HUGE ILYSM 💙 everything's under the cut cause i have a lot of thoughts on this lol. i tried my best to make the reader gender-neutral but i think this may lean more towards fem!reader so sorry in advance if that's not what you had in mind. may or may not turn this into an actual fic someday so consider this an idea dump of sorts.

➢ the hyūga are a traditional bunch. i think we can all agree on that.

➢ you didn't come from nobility, being born into a small clan. and though you went onto becoming a respectable chunin later in life, none of your training and mission knowledge will ever help in navigating the intricacies of the most notable clan of Konoha. you certainly weren't the most graceful, nor would you call yourself elegant. and on top of that, you were an outsider. in a sea of lavender eyes, you stand out like a sore thumb and it's a constant reminder that follows you.

➢ there's a certain kind of pressure that comes with being married to neji hyūga—the genius of the clan. the whispered gossip looms around you like a ghost, people wondering why he wasn't slated to marry someone of greater standing when he became of age. after all, it was expected for neji to marry into prestige, not someone from a lesser family.

➢ the expectations to comform to the ways and traditions of the clan weighs heavily on your shoulders. To master the etiquette required of a hyūga spouse. to bow at the right times, to keep quiet, keep demure.

➢ a lead weight pulls at your stomach with each mistake made. a nagging thought that you're not good enough for neji. that he deserves to be with someone who wouldn't potentially embarass him.

➢ but you love him dearly and so, you try your hardest to uphold these standards—gods you do—but it's only a matter of time before the cards finally topple over.

➢ you were laying in bed one night while neji reads a book next to you. closing your eyes, you attempt to feign being asleep knowing that your mind wouldn't let you get much sleep. his hand rests on the side of your head and you can feel his eyes on you.

➢ "you've been quiet all day. is there something?" he asks, gentle fingers holding your chin and turning you to face him.

➢ "uh-no. everything's fine. just can't sleep is all." the reassuring platitude comes out a touch too quickly and the slight quirk of his brow tells you that he doesn't buy it. ever the perspective one.

➢ the bed shifts and Neji stands, taking your hand and urging you to follow despite your protests. "come, let me make some tea that will help you."

➢ some mixture of inadequacy and bashfulness curls within the base of your stomach as he instructs you to sit at the dining table. keeping your back straight, you keep your legs crossed at the ankles while your hands lay on your lap, stifiling the yawn that threatens to escape from your lips. an ache forms in your shoulders, it's exhausting trying to keep up apperances all day.

➢ your gaze follows your husband as he grabs two cups from the counter. he should be sleeping right now, you think. especially when he has training the next day, but here he is and a fresh wave of self-loathing washes over you. you close your eyes, feeling a sting behind them.

➢ "do you...ever regret marrying me?" the words slip out before you even process them. some part of you hopes he didn't catch that.

➢ "no, of course not," he says, voice incredulous. "what makes you think that?" you press your lips into a thin line at the loaded question and you suddenly feel small underneath his inquisitive gaze. a hot cup of chamomile tea is placed in front of you and the warmth somewhat relaxes your body.

➢ "well, it's just.." you reluctantly start, taking a deep breath as your fingere fidget with a loose thread on your shirt. "i think you deserve someone better than me."

➢ silence follows and all you want to do is go back to bed and pretend that you didn't say anything in the first place. but something keeps you seated. as usual, his face gives away nothing.

➢ neji would be equal parts confused and concerned. deserved better? you were the person he's wanted for so long. he wouldn't have married you if he wasn't fully certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you and he tells you such.

➢ but that seems to have the opposite effect he intented, with the way your hands clench into fists and your body grows tense. instinctually, his hand reaches out to you but your next words stop him in his tracks.

➢ "i'm not good enough!" you snap, eyes shut.

➢ "nothing i do is good enough," the words tumble out of your mouth like a waterfall. "i've try to change, be perfect for you—make sure i'm someone who can stand next to do but nothing works. you jumped through so many hoops for us to get married and i can't even do the basics right. you deserve someone who can actually measure up." you stand up, turning away as the tears begin to flow. "no matter what i do, all i'll be is a fucking outsider and-"

➢ his arms wrap around you before the supressed sob finally breaks free. you tighten your hold on him as your body shakes from your cries. your rant quickly devolves into a string of incoherent apologies that spills from your lips.

➢ soft kisses were placed on the crown of your head and his fingers run though the strands of your head as a silent form of comfort. the elders' of his clan had been urging for neji to marry a member of the main branch, that such gifted genes couldn't go to waste. but he refused at every step. as far as he was concerned, it was either you or no one.

➢ "i don't know who told you such things," neji begins once your sobs calm, his thumb gently brushes the tears that cling to your waterline. "but that couldn't be further from the truth. there is no one else who'd i want to be with, especially someone as loving as you."

➢ many more things lay on the tip of his tongue—how dear you are to him, how you've stayed with him through thick and thin, how you've always been a source of comfort—and they all get put into the gentle press of lips to the center of your forehead. whenever words failed him, he can always count on physical affection to fill in the gaps when needed. "believe me when i say that i love you. i could care less about clan politics or expectations placed on. you're more than enough for me. you always will be."

➢ the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell with relief and gratitude. your body relaxes at his warmth, at the knowledge that he's the person who you'll love for the rest of your life.

➢ "thank you," you whisper, the corners of your lips pulling to a small smile. neji mirrors the action, pulling you into yet another kiss, doing justice to the words that are left unsaid.

ask box is open. send me more neji related headcanons/scenarios <33

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! It's me again. I'm probably pestering you, lol. I think a lotta people give flack for the Octavinelle trio being ruthless and "behaving like a Mafia." But I think considering where they live it makes sense? They live in the ocean. And the ocean is a kill or be killed environment, where you have to the strongest and toughest. If not? You at least have to be quick witted and unable to be seen, otherwise you'll be dead. If the trio become too soft they'll be fish meat.

I think the fandom is pretty divided when it comes to perceptions of what the Coral Sea is like. On one hand, you have the people who think of it as like living in Atlantica, which is basically just like living in a peaceful and pretty city (but underwater). Then you have the people who think the environment would be so different it would shape its inhabitants to behave differently as well. The second one tends to be a darker or grittier interpretation which aknowledges dangers such as other undersea creatures and treacherous living conditions.

Personally, I lean on and enjoy the latter, since TWST rarely ever designs purely for the aesthetic of it; one example of this is how the twins are confirmed to be bioluminescent in the Magical Archives. This is a decision that was not made “because it would look cool”, but because many deep sea creatures rely on this trait to intimidate potential predators. It would make more sense for the cold waters of the Coral Sea to change its people rather than merfolks’ cities simply being civilizations moved several leagues under, especially seeing TWST time and time again really consider the geography and history of each new location and how those inform the cultures that form there.

However, I want to state that the Coral Sea would be very different depending on which area you’re in, just like how there are nice parts and bad parts of a city. It’s not ALL nice or ALL bad. For example, the Atlantica Museum in book 3 appears to be in a more photic zone, so there’s more sunlight and it appears pleasant to be in. Even the merpeople there seem to be different than the Octatrio; they less so resemble specific sea creatures and are much more akin to being human-like. We have yet to really see how the benthic zones are—but we do know they must be harsher, since Floyd has mentioned exploring shipwrecks and various dangers there (like sharks).

I also want to point out that there are subtle signs in dialogue which could imply merpeople prefer traits that promote survivability and adaptability in the ocean. Azul’s bullies are noted to taunt him for his weight, but also for his bulky tentacles and inky tears. Now why those traits specifically??? Because these impede his ability to swim swiftly (making it harder to escape danger) and easily give away his location (if he’s in hiding or camoflauging).

I’ve seen others suggest that maybe these comments are because of racism against octopus merpeople, who are a rare kind of merfolk. This is entirely possible, yes! But thinking about it like that… Isn’t it also possible that there aren’t a lot of octopus merpeople at the moment because it’s more difficult for them to escape or to hide from predators? Which then informs and perpetuates preexisting prejudices. In this context (plus the bullying), it makes sense why Azul may have “hardened” as a defense and survival mechanism. The same goes for the twins, who were explicitly taught how to defend themselves (although this also goes into the Leech mob family theory, which is a whole separate matter) and have often made references to fighting others in the Coral Sea. Their upbringings also play a part in their personalities, but so does the environment they grew up in. Like Azul and the twins, you’d have to harden mentally or physically to some degree to ensure your survival through tough circumstances.

It’s hard to say for sure though! A lot of this is speculation based on current but infrequent lore, and the Octatrio themselves are a very small portion of all merfolk. They may not be representative of the behaviors of all other merpeople, and we should keep this in mind when referring to them as our exemplars. That’s why I’ve been hoping for a Coral Sea hometown event so we have a more concrete idea of what life under the sea is like 😭

[kannra21]

Contrary to popular belief, Gojo Satoru was never in a relationship. And he was fairly awkward to say the least. Sure, girls had a crush on him and he was chased all around the block, but he never truly attempted to make a move so it never worked out. Because of his job and because of who he was- the honored one, brought a veil of loneliness in his life and misfortune to people who associated with him. He never really knew how to deal with girls- joking and teasing was his way to go, but that only brought him rejection and girls would often shift their feelings to Suguru. His youth flew before his very eyes and he's 30 now. All of his friends died mostly and he's still taking care of the kids. At least he has a goal to maintain and raise a powerful generation of young sorcerers. It still doesn't take away from the fact that he's a lonely 30yo man. He could deny it as much as he wanted to, but it pained him.

Because of the staff shortage, Tokyo high was in dire need of new recruits, and that's where you came into the picture. A foreigner yet so oddly familiar, the girl next door, acquainted with the sorcery and sacrifice that came with it. Your serious expression and tired eyes told him everything, there was no need for words. He understood quite well, he could relate to you and find solace in the fact that someone shares his burdens now that he's not so completely alone anymore. You're so young, so pretty and yet so damaged by the world that it makes him feel overprotective of you. He wants to give you peace the way nobody ever did for him. But that's ok, he's the strongest after all. You're smiling under your breath, you're a sorcerer as much as he is. He's supposed to do his job and not care too much about what's going to happen to you on missions. The truth is- he didn't want to lose another person again.

So he took you out everywhere, one day it was Tokyo's famous coffee shop, the other was a prestigious high end restaurant. You realize he's rich, still, you didn't want to take advantage of him. He insists, he wants to spend time with you. He wants to know you better, ever went as far as escort you to dorms to take a look at your room. You tell him you're not the glitz and glam type of girl and that you're ok with the normie stuff. And he liked you more for it. So you had room hangouts, small coffee dates and arcade games. Sometimes it makes him cry when he remembers that he used to do all those things with Suguru and Shoko before. You felt nostalgic too, your childhood was basically ripped from your hands and there was nothing you could do about it except reminisce. But you were adults now and lingering on the past was useless. Only thing you could do was move forward.

Satoru doesn't like to talk about himself much, you noticed. But that's ok. It's probably a dark story, not much different from yours. You already knew of the Gojo clan and their connection to Michizane Sugawara. All his family members are dead, you didn't know why but that's probably what happens when you're a well known name in this dark sorcery world. Everyone goes for your head, especially the higher ups. Which is ironic considering they're supposed to be associates. Maybe he is the strongest but this was a thankless job. And sometimes it seemed like everything was put up against him. Not you though.

At first you were plainly colleagues, nothing special. Then friends. Then the lingering touches started to feel more frequent than usual. Then he kissed you for the first time- it was when he opened up and how he's wishing for more positive things, something that could potentially lighten up his world. He doesn't want to be alone and he doesn't want to feel like life just flashed before him. He wants to make an impact, even if it meant making you happy, because you were enough to him. And you felt the same way. This love didn't feel like fire, a burning spark of the moment- hurried and tasteless. It felt like a deep sea of calmness and assurance- you could be yourselves with each other, you didn't have to pretend anything. Because being each other's safe space was enough.

Funny, Tokyo high needed new recruits again since you were on maternity leave and no matter how long they awaited your return, you never quite seemed to come back to work. Satoru is laughing because they're blaming him for everything and he can't deny it because it's the truth. He has a beautiful wife and beautiful babies to come home to and the best part- you don't have to be exposed to the dangerous sorcery world anymore. The kids were lively and annoying but god did they remind you of him. They preferred you more though. You're laughing and Gojo is pouting because it's not his fault that he's away from home all the time. He's missing you so much. But, of course, they're sleeping with him when you're away doing your face routine before bed. You return to your room and see them huddled in Gojo's arms. It's adorable and you get emotional again.

Please don't die Satoru. His missions were getting dangerous by the week and seeing his smiley face on the doors hugging your kids was everything you could hope for. You begged him to change jobs but he doesn't want to listen. He claims that he's responsible for the imbalance of the world and therefore he should be the one keeping everyone safe. He's stricken with guilt. Or maybe it's his hero complex that makes him so rebellious to authority and, in this case, his wife. But he'd rather die a honorable death than be taken out by something embarrassing such as old age or sickness. You're begging him to think of the kids and he does, he's thinking about them every single day. Their safety is his top priority, so is yours. And you're scared, you really are. You love him so much. You wish things could be easier, but it's ok. As long as you have each other's backs it didn't matter. You can overcome any obstacles together. He's not alone, he has a family now.

[forcebewitht]

Would you do a yandere Jamil x reader?

Snake In The Grass (Yandere!Jamil Viper x Reader)

(Possible TW: Stalking, murder, slight gore mentions, manipulation, sexual implications)

He was a crafty one, that Viper. He knew it, too. He had to be to survive, after all. Slithering through the shadows undetected, simply being known as a mere servant- nothing more, nothing less. This is what was upon the surface- but there was always far more to the attractive male than what was visible.

He was always there. He would slink up beside you after class to walk with you, speak with you. Kalim would be present as well, of course- unless he had found someone else to watch over him for the briefest of times. He would ensure that you were provided for as best as he could, especially given the conditions within Ramshackle. He had already long since calculated the dietary restrictions of your body and would ensure that the proper nutrition would be packed and slipped into your bag for you to consume when you retired for the night.

He was always watching. The smoky gray eyes with a tender yet occasionally sinister glisten trailing over your figure. Every inch of your flesh, every curve, every molecule…nothing missed the calculations of the Vice Dorm Leader of Scarabia. Whenever you would attend the parties within the dorm, he would watch your every move. Even outside of the comfortable confines of the dorm he knew every secretive in and out of, his eyes would remain upon you. Within the shadows. The darkest of nights. Beneath trees. Behind walls and corners.

He would always take care of whatever business needed to be done. This, soon enough, included the disposal of the bodies of the students who had dared either step to you in aggression or affection. Bones broken, skin bruised and contorted. Blood seeping from the very crevices of their figures. His cuts were precise, and as calculative as the rest of him. They were always placed somewhere intentionally conspicuously- unless the person themselves had far too much of a potential tie to Jamil himself. In those cases? The bodies were never found.

His voice was one that lingered. It was smooth, warm, and practically oozing with a charm unlike anything you had experienced from anyone else within the institution of Night Raven College. It was deep, yet it would slightly raise in pitch if he grew a bit excited or stressed- yet it still somehow retained a level of tranquility that would leave you practically begging for him to speak to you more. He occasionally would even hum or sing near you whilst completing his tasks or simply beside you walking, and it was as though a siren had come from the darkest depths of the sea to be by you and croon its serenade and embed it into the very soul of yourself.

His touches were always gentle, his smiles like warm sunlight cascading down upon your figure in soothing waves. Given the work that he constantly was assisting with or accomplishing alone, his sleek skin was toned. Abs and muscles would peek themselves through whatever articles of clothing he had on. You would feel the very same muscles within his arms tense and tighten whenever he would touch you or gently move you around or out of the way within the hallway. Within the classroom, he occasionally would lean over just enough for those muscles upon his arms or chest to lightly graze your skin, assisting you with whatever classwork you needed help with.

His steel gray gaze. The depth of kindness yet knowledge they held. Those beautiful eyes upon that sculpted, handsome face of his that you always found yourself slightly getting lost in. The eyes that would behold you so tenderly, as though you were a precious piece of artwork within a museum, or a delicate flower that brought him a warmth inside of himself. And it was here, within that gaze, that you finally found yourself slipping under the poison of his venom entirely, his fingers just barely grazing your chin to tilt your head up to behold him in all of his glory.

“Snake Whisper.”

It was his voice, those eyes of his…those blood red eyes that were drawing you in…he had you right where he wanted you at last, having pulled you into his room for conversation during a party at Scarabia. His lips tugged into a sinister grin as he watched your gaze shift into the same blood red one he had moments ago. He bent forward slightly, his fingers remaining beneath your chin. That is, until they slightly trailed downward. They settle gently upon your neck, and you are too far gone to comprehend just how much of the poison of him you had succumbed to.

“You, my beautiful desert flower (Y/N), are now mine and solely mine. You shall obey my every word from here on, and you shall dedicate yourself to me. Your heart, your mind…your body…and your very soul are all mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes…Master.”

A pleased chuckle escapes the lips of the snake, his arms wrapping around the waist of his caught prey. His gaze locked onto yours once he had finished observing your lovely figure. His nails lightly dug into your flesh upon your waist, keeping you planted firmly before him.

“Good~ when you are solely within my company, you shall refer to me as Master. But when we are within the company of others, you shall refer to me either as my name or “my love”. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Such an obedient pet~ now. Place yourself upon my bed. Spread yourself out. Prepare to give yourself to me entirely.”

Your motions were swift. Your body soon was pressed against the bed, your back firmly making itself at home upon the comforter of the Viper that had you within his grasp. Jamil grinned, ensuring his door was locked and he had placed up a sound nullification spell- he did not need to ruthlessly slaughter anyone that dared to interrupt, tonight. You were the only one on his mind- the only one he would soon claim to be his. The snake had finally emerged from the grass.

~End~

[pseudowho]

Hello Ms Haitch,

I’m 26 years old and have never been in a relationship before. I have been in love and have gone out with guys before, but they’ve never progressed into us dating and becoming official, most often resulting in me heartbroken and ending up in terrible situationships that cause more grief than anyone can imagine. I even completely stopped looking for love these past two years, to give me time to grow into myself and know who I am and what I want from life.

All my friends and everyone else in my life don’t seem to have a problem with finding love or commitment, and deep inside, it kills me to know that they have the companionship that I yearn for. And approaching my late 20s when almost all my close friends have plans of starting families with their partners, I just can’t help but feel disheartened at what feels like my fate to be the designated single friend who would eventually have to settle for a reality I don’t want. But more often than not, even when I am comfortable with my singlehood, my closest friends push me to find a man and that makes me feel even more hopeless (especially with news of engagement parties and potential wedding dates entering my planner). Often in my lowest moments, I wonder if it is my looks or my personality that just icks people off.

I have put myself out in the dating world and have done everything from going to different clubs and events to find people that share my interests, to being set up by my friends. Heck, I even moved across the country for my job and still have no luck with a new and different crowd.

Do you have any advice on how to cope with being the leftover friend, because frankly, I don’t have it in me to hear another “your person is out there waiting for you!” or “you just have to put yourself out there!”

Thank you,

Anon

Hi!

I'm only sorry to say that while I haven't been in your position, I ache to hear it, and I'm sorry you're suffering such loneliness, and fear of the future. One of my closest friends is 37, and has been through much the same as you for quite some years, and struggles with the same. I shall advise you as I advise her.

I think you need to view this through a practical lens, as well as an emotional one. You know how you feel about this emotionally, and have verbalised it well; you're worried about not having this theoretical life partner for you, but also worried about how you are being perceived. In this vein, you are already spiralling down writing yourself off as (amongst others): unattractive, in possession of a bad personality, and leftover.

So, let's look at the practicality: the hard honest truths, the catastrophism, and the futures unknown. You ultimately don't know if you will meet your person tomorrow, in a week, in a year, or ten, or never ever. You need to accept, as a truth, that you absolutely must know and like yourself whether you are going to meet your person, or not.

The truth? You cannot place all of your hopes of happiness on a potential future that you know nothing of whether it will happen or not. Or, you can, but risk misery in the unknown intervening years. Your boat is going through this sea, and you need to be the one true constant. If you are waiting for happiness, or belonging, to happen, based on a theoretical maybe person, there is a chance you will be unhappy your whole life.

I'm a real 'plan for the worst, so if that happens I am prepared, but if anything better happens, it's a bonus' kind of girl. If you do meet your person, do you want to meet them in this state where you dislike yourself? Do you want to meet someone who may not be right for you, but for whom you lower your standards because your greatest fear is of being 'left behind'? Or do you want to meet either of these people as someone who has embraced either path that their life may take?

This sounds like such a write off. It will always feel that way, because you're clawing for an answer that nobody can honestly give you. Most people give you those 'life laugh love' recycled phrases, because they're uncomfortable confronting the truth; that you're unhappy, and lonely, and struggling, and I'm sure at points envious, and they don't know how to help you with it.

So in truth: I cannot help you with this, and I know that. I can only try to help you build the infrastructure you need to help you to weather the storm. I wish I could crystal-ball this for you; I'm sure if you knew, hands down, what your future held, it would be easier to cope with whatever is to come.

I wish I could give you something more concrete.

Tl;dr: You are not leftover. You are not food to be consumed or wasted. Whatever path your future takes, you can seize control, and choose to approach it with your head held high, or with the belief that you are worth nothing.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[mugman64]

Semi-Aquatic Percy Jackson Headcanons

(A lot of these will be random Atlantean culture ideas I made up)

Markings

If you were to ever see Percy shirtless you would see what he wants you to see, the mist is a powerful tool, especially for covering obvious marks. But if you are one of the few to see him without you would see identical columns of burn marks going from his collar bones down to his waist, each small and precise. In Atlantis warriors mark themselves with each battle won, each powerful enemy slain. Percy choose to brand himself with his victories, so that every time he looks at them and remembers the victory he remembers the pain and suffering wrought with it. Percy is a war veteran, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets himself or others romanticize the killing of war and the death of his companions.

Hair

Atlanteans put either a braid or loc in their hair for each year they are alive. The royal family never has, for in their immortality they would run out of space. Percy has never viewed himself as a prince, and he sure as hell isn’t immortal. He had 16 of them when he decided Olympus's fate, and 17 when he walked through the depths of Tartarus. And ever since he got them he’s had his camp beads decorated on them.

Strength

After his third quest Percy became obsessed with getting stronger to mitigate future deaths. It got to the point where he let himself submerge to the bottom of the sea, to the deepest trench, and let himself slowly get crushed by the pressure of the ocean. Pushed into the mud until he grew the strength to stand up, and then he’d let more weight fall onto him. Eventually he was able to stand with the weight of the entire ocean on him. It took him a week of ripping doors off hinges and breaking something with a touch before he got control over his new found strength.

Monster (Inspired by Witch_of_History’s Series)

Poseidon was renown as the Father of Monsters. All his children have the potential to live up to that title, his godly spawn where born with it, sharp teeth, razor claws, and tough scales. It came with being his immortal child, you were born touched by all his domains. But demigod children only gain access to their parents domains as they age or as they need them, and his half mortal children had never been monstrous. But as with all things mythological Percy pushed the envelope. His time in the deepest depths of the sea caused his body to adapt to his environment, the royal family was mostly homogenous with their monstrous traits. Percy was always an outlier to them though, when he finally ascended from the depths he had adapted beyond human. Increased senses of smell, sight, hearing. Able to sense nearby creatures bio-electric signals, capable of echo-location, can see infrared, magneto-reception. His monstrous form is a blue scaled, razor clawed,bi-pedal apex predator of the deep. A scaled merrow-esque person with an extra rows of shark teeth behind their human teeth. Annabeth and Grover have never been more enamored with a demigods powers before, and the Hunters have never had a better hunting companion. Much to Artemis’ chagrin and Thalia’s delight.

Favors

Strong warrior or kings in Atlantis keep rings of their enemies and allies. On one hand will be rings made from the bones or weapons of enemies defeated, on the other are gifts or symbols fealty of debt’s owed to the wearer. Percy has no lack of rings. Titans, Giants, and ancient monsters leave many spoils for souvenirs. It’s his other hand that draws interest however, he liberated Thanatos, spared Hades after defeating him, assisted Persephone in retrieving her illegally made sword. None of these things came free, other demigods typically are sent off with recognition and little else. But Percy is a hardened veteran of undersea battles, defeating creatures older than Olympus and fighting against Oceanus prior to the Battle of Manhattan. They had no choice but to give him tribute for his actions. Hades and Persephone groaned about it, Thanatos gladly gave it up, and yet having a box filled with rings of allyship, fealty, and loyalty he’s never used them. But what people always forget is that Percy and Annabeth are a pair, whatever one has the other does as well. Best believe it, Annabeth has many plans that could use some godly touch.

[froggybogwitch]

(Enjoy my drawing of what I think Vaughan looks like)

One of the many things that facinates me about the Cadre is the potential within their inter-personal relationships. Now, admittedly I'm going to be getting into a Lot of my personal HCs about the Cadre's history and place as a part of Maeve's court, especially Vaughan since there is quite literally nothing about him except that he's a sea bird and is a master of not confronting the issue (U go girl, give us nothing to work with) so, this is not to be taken as just an interpertation of canon (though there will be some of that), but as my personal "what I wish we got."

Alright, with that disclaimer over, the Cadre is *old.* Canonically, Gavriel is it's oldest living member at about 600 years old, but by no means is he treated as it's founder. He was not the first bloodsworn, and as a fairly prominent character, especially in relation to Aedion who IS the founder of his own unit, the Bane, I feel it would have been mentionned or alluded to if that were the intention. So, the Cadre is old as BALLS. My guess is that they were formed during the first vlag conquest, and thus the original members of the Cadre would have been contemporaries of Brannon Galathynius and Athril.

My personal headcanon is that while Gavriel isn't a founding member of the Cadre, Vaughan is. Vaughan was there when the first oaths were sworn. He was the youngest of his cohort to swear, an abandonned child turned squire, and has served faithfully ever since. He served for centuries before Gavriel was even born. He's lived longer that any creature, even fae should, and his mind cracked under the pressure. He could not handle the weight of his own memories, and so his mind protected him. (Does the oath sustain him? Does it trap his soul in a body that can barely breath? Is his magical well just *that* deep?) He has raised and trained generations of bloodsworn, lived so long that their names, faces, deaths blur together.

And just like his own mentors, the original members of the cadre who first swore blood oaths to Maeve, he wasn't gentle. He didn't really know how to, even when he tried to be. And that was fine with adults, with men who had been chosen from the ranks of Maeve's army and guard, like Gavriel. But Lorcan wasn't an adult. He wasn't a blooded soldier when Maeve chose him, and put him in Vaughan's care. He was still a child, who'd never had stability, never had a safe haven, or a gentle guiding hand.

He got one of those from Vaughan, and it was stability, though he needed the other two just as desperately.

And it all got so much more complicated after Vaughan's mind started falling apart, and he started both forgetting how he treated Lorcan and basing his attitude towards Rowan (and Lorcan) on observations of how Gavriel taught. How Gavriel was gentle and patient with his teaching, while still staying firm. Lorcan resents Vaughn for the way he was, is glad he was different for Rowan, is grieving the loss of a man who took care of and understood him more than clean cut gavriel or noble-born Rowan ever could. Which comes right back around to resenting Vaughn for his "weakness" of mind and the precieved abandonnement, while being glad that vaughn can't remember the vulnerabilities Lorcan let him see when he was younger. And I think, Lorcan, deep deep down, envies Vaughn the capacity to just forget everything they've done and everything that's been done to them. Because Vaughn no longer wakes up screaming, and so many of his old triggers (triggers Lorcan once knew like the back of his hand) are just gone.

[deilmo]

Elgar'nan's true origins

One Tweet has me going crazy.

It was a twitter post talking about how Mythal was as much a voice of justice as she was a voice of vengeance and-

I found it strange that Mythal was associated with both Justice and Vengeance when Elgar'nan was also the god of Vengeance. It was weird to have them both embody the same virtue. And if we are to believe the gods are spirits, what's to say Elgar'nan was ALWAYS Vengeance?

I looked at his codexes, especially the one of his origin because it's the most complete and-

"Elgar'nan was furious at what his father had done and vowed vengeance. He lifted himself into the sky and wrestled the sun, determined to defeat him. They fought for an eternity, and eventually the sun grew weak, while Elgar'nan's rage was unabated. Eventually Elgar'nan threw the sun down from the sky and buried him in a deep abyss created by the land's sorrow." Codex entry: Elgar'nan God of Vengeance

This seem to confirm that Elgar'nan changed into Vengeance rather than being born as Vengeance. But the codex doesn't mention much HOW Elgar'nan was before turning to vengeance.

So I went digging. We know that the same "demon" can be corrupted from different spirits, (ex: Wisdom and Faith spirits can both turn into Pride) meaning Elgar'nan didn't have to be a spirit of Justice like Mythal. With that in mind I went searching what kind of spirit could embody the "opposite of vengeance" in the known spirits.

The one that stood out the most to me were Honor and Valor, in media they are usually pitted against Vengeance: vengeance usually has no honor nor valor in those depictions. So those two known spirits could work BUT-

We know spirits are twisted from their purpose by something that is so against their nature that they change. It could work on Honor and Valor. But knowing what twisted a demon can help us identify what it was. (Think Solas saying forcing Wisdom to fight was so against its purpose it twisted). And the legend does give us the reason of Elgar'nan's wrath:

The sun, looking down upon the fruitful land, saw the joy that Elgar'nan took in her [earth] works and grew jealous. Out of spite, he shone his face full upon all the creatures the earth had created, and burned them all to ashes. The land cracked and split from bitterness and pain, and cried salt tears for the loss of all she had wrought. The pool of tears cried for the land became the ocean, and the cracks in her body the first rivers and streams. Codex entry: Elgar'nan God of Vengeance

Reading that made me think it echoed more with a spirit of Compassion, like Cole. Powerless, Elgar'nan could only watch as his father (the sun) burned his mother and her work to ashes. It could be that powerlessness over someone's suffering was what twisted Elgar'nan into Vengeance.

Another possibility is in Mythal's origin. When she rises from the sea to make Elgar'nan see reason after he imprisonned his father into an abyss:

It was at this moment that Mythal walked out of the sea of the earth's tears and onto the land. She placed her hand on Elgar'nan's brow, and at her touch he grew calm and knew that his anger had led him astray. Humbled, Elgar'nan went to the place where the sun was buried and spoke to him. Elgar'nan said he would release the sun if the sun promised to be gentle and to return to the earth each night. The sun, feeling remorse at what he had done, agreed. Codex: Mythal the Great Protector

The further we are going down this thread and the less my hypothesis have hard proof, but i'm just covering all bases and possibilities. This highlighted section made me tick because it has very specific word choices: Humbled. He was not calmed or appeased, he was humbled. Now we have no proof of such spirit existing but Humility IS a virtue, meaning it could be a potential spirit unknown to us at this point.

The last and least supported possibility would be that Elgar'nan was a Mercy spirit. We have no proof of such spirit existing, and there is nothing in any codex that could hint to us to that. The sole reason I'm mentionning this is because Mercy is the closest antonym we could think of to Vengeance (when excluding Justice).

Mercy is more or less literally a kindness that allows you to forgive someone who has wronged someone (usually you), Vengeance on the other end is punishing someone that has wronged someone (usually you). Those two concepts cannot co-exist. You cannot give mercy when you are filled with thoughts of vengeance.

IF Elgar'nan was a spirit of Mercy, it could also explain why when Mythal couldn't give a sentence in one of her judging, she let Elgar'nan do it. When it was agreed he wouldn't give judgement because his wrath would destroy everything. (Codex: Ancient elven writing & The Judgment of Mythal)

TLDR; Elgar'nan most likely wasn't a spirit of Vengeance in the beginning, but twisted into it. His previous spirit self could be: Honor, Valor, Compassion, Humility or Mercy

[seafoamreadings]

week of october 29th, 2023

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: it may be a bit of a low-energy, tired week for you but also saturn turning direct in your 12th house unleashes something that has long felt stuck. wherever you have been growing your wisdom, your discipline, your responsibility, you get a little bit of forward movement at last.

taurus: fortunately you have a cozy and gentle week coming off of the eclipse in your sign. the one potential caveat is venus opposite neptune can have drug-like effects, sedative or psychedelic, which can potentially lead to some problems just as substance abuse (or just use!) can sometimes do. however this opposition can also be consciously channeled into the highest forms of love and beauty.

gemini: your week may feel a bit suffocating, with a hint of sharp mutable tension, as though everyone is against you or forcing you into arguments when you just want a discussion. on the bright side, some mercurial healing with ceres can occur as long as you are sure to nurture your physical body. don't live too much inside your mind.

cancerians: as this is posted you're probably still strongly feeling eclipse effects. as the week continues on, it fades with the waning of the moon. you're strengthened by what you've been through, and bolstered further by the watery astrological weather and a good cancer moon.

leo: even though the eclipse is over (well, at least wearing off...) you have work to do along that same scorpio-taurus axis - your home and your public image. keep a private sanctuary. maintain your reputation. but do so with integrity, not deceit. live the image you want.

virgo: ceres is busy post-eclipse, with mercury. these are your 'modern' and traditional rulers. anything that needs healing can be healed now. but you have to be willing to change, and suddenly. a uranian influence brings shock and surprise but if you're playing your cards right, this works well for you. meanwhile a major relationship milestone unlocks. it is helpful even if it hurts. it may not hurt though.

libra: earthy watery vibes feel like being stuck in the mud for many libras. it's not great. at the same time consider that mud masks as a beauty treatment are a thing. alchemize the stuckness and make it work to your advantage. a lovely venus-neptune aspect all week helps.

scorpio: you will swim in the eclipse vibes longer than most. there is so much depth to it, and you don't care for the shallows. you are a thing of the deep-sea volcanic vents, not a tidepool creature. let others handle the piddly little things. do what matters most.

sagittarius: living with ease is a choice. the culture is one of struggle, especially this week. relax as you go about your hard work. when you can reconcile these things that seem to be complete opposites, you find a peace that your philosophical soul has always been seeking.

capricorn: you may be feeling a little bit eclipse-schmeclipse, like who cares. if so, you can look forward to the fact that your ruling planet ends its retrograde in the very earliest reaches of pisces, where it is not exactly comfortable, this week. it brings you new strength, vitality, and backbone - if you need to speak up about something get to it.

aquarius: ruling planet uranus is not messing around this week. hydrate, eat good food (not too restricted, not to starve, but to nourish), maintain your important relationships, have a good conversation, say what you mean and mean what you say. this combo brings you good results.

pisces: a highly auspicious week for you, especially if you've been living diligently with integrity and kindness and some compassionate self-discipline. bad situations magically turn around. love surrounds you from every angle and from every source, even the seemingly inanimate.

[fatuismooches]

Going off the little crumb of the Traveler finding comatose Fragile!Reader...

It was random chance they ended up in the room the 2nd Harbinger sealed off from all living things other than himself. Chaos and and unpredictability was the only way to keep up with or even get slightly ahead of the Doctor. After all, how likely is it that say, a broken waypoint would transport a person to this room when it could just as easily land them in the Chasm or the middle of the sea (though they had ended up in those places a few times trying to pull this plan off).

All the Traveler knew about this room was what Childe and that one Skirmisher has said: something important to Dottore is kept in that room, something that could potentially be used to force him into a proper confrontation where the Traveler could take him down once and for all.

But now that they were inside it, they were certain of one thing: they hadn't expected it to look like a combination of a bedroom and a hospital. A wardrobe, a chess table, a cabinet filled with various bottles filled with liquids and pills, machines keeping track of vitals and...

A person sleeping in a large bed, wearing something similar to an Akasha Terminal.

Paimon had even been stunned into silence as she looked around the room, a first for her. She floated closely by the Traveler as they walked closer to the sleeping person.

They looked sick. Incredibly sick. If it wasn't for the fact that the Traveler could see them breathing, they would have thought they were looking at a corpse. But no, they were simply sleeping, paying no mind to the two other people in the room with them.

They giggled a bit in their sleep, murmuring what sounded like "Zandik..." before going quiet once again.

Then the door to the room slammed open.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 HOW ARE Y'ALL COMING UP WITH THIS DELICIOUS STUFF OMFG

The second Harbinger was far stronger than the Traveler wanted to admit. Nahida wasn’t kidding when she said he had powers equal to Gods. But they needed to find a way to take Dottore down. Even if it meant having some kind of leverage over him. The only lead they had was the few words from the eleventh. He still didn’t have much intel, as Dottore was a secretive man after all, but what he said was intriguing. Rumor had it that he potentially had a secret, something that no one else knew about. Tucked far, far away from everyone else. Many people had theorized on what it could be, and although many sounded crazy, it was Dottore after all. Nothing was impossible.

But the one thing the Traveler did not expect it to be was a person. Much less a person soundly sleeping, multiple wires attached to their body and hooked up to machines, donning something that the Traveler recognized as the… Akasha Terminal. No, this was different, probably altered by the Fatui. By how you did not even move an inch from the Traveler’s sudden intrusion, they surmised you must be in a really deep sleep. But this appearance… though the room reminded them of a hospital - multiple cabinets with more medical equipment they could name - it felt, how to put it, personalized. There were decorations and colors the Traveler knew Dottore would never put up by himself. So was it… for you? Especially the chess set that sat next to you, looking like it had been left unused for quite a while.

Even the ever talkative Paimon had lost her words, and clung to the Traveler. For anyone who knew of Dottore’s nature would be frightened by this room. As the pair approached you, they got a better look at your appearance. Tiredness and sickness was written all over your face, and when you moved your lips, the Traveler held their’s to hear what you’d say.

Zandik. They had recalled that name while exploring Sumeru, finding notes here and there. Quickly, they put two and two together. A bad feeling started to bubble up inside the Traveler. The rest of the Harbingers they fought - Signora, Scaramouche, Childe - despite their sins, they had one thing in common. They all had-

Once the door swung open, the Traveler couldn’t help but still feel guilty for what they were about to do.

CRYING I LOVE THESE CRUMBS SO MUCH 😭💕 I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY... ANON U ARE REALLY GREAT AT WRITING 😭

[xarrixii]

F/B Chapter_55 : "Sedative"

CW: blood, physical altercations, guns, cops, weird forced vaguely sexual tension designed to make you uncomfortable

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We’re getting him down a floor with the emergency stairwell and then you all will use the elevator so we don’t alert this new cop, Harlow started, shrouding more of the rooftop penthouse in flame, wrapping a coat around them. I’ll give our EK a reason not to join you downstairs.

A bigger problem, Liam affirmed.

Rowan mentally huffed as he started to lead the way to the emergency stairwell in his destroyed penthouse. So what’s the plan here? Holding a gun to my head?

If you’d be so kind, Galena added.

Minus well sell the act now that we have it. I’ll hold Josey. Shane traded the rifle to his back for the handgun at his waist. Galena, if anyone moves, work with geokinesis.

And how’re the two blonde ones getting out of here? Rowan mustered, palming for the stairwell door’s handle and yanking it open.

Everyone paused.

Liam looked at Harlow. I’m not teleporting in this state, kid.

He stared down at Liam’s leg. He didn’t have forever. Liam would either bleed out by the time there was an opening to leave or hinder everyone else’s ability downstairs—and that was if he didn’t decide to teleport with open wounds and potentially make it worse.

Doc’s used to injured patient transport, Shane grabbed onto Rowan. If we can get to a phone, I know the tower’s number. He’s probably our safest bet.

He’s gonna kill me, Liam said.

Would you rather be killed Doc’s way—Rowan sneered at the barrel leveled to his head, mockingly—or the way of the guys down below?

Harlow smirked to that the same way Liam’s gaze tightened with respect.

Fair, Liam groaned, especially on the landing of the next floor down where Harlow set him down against the wall. Galena, hit them hard. Make your own tunnel if you have to. Shane, don’t get trigger happy—that includes with your kinetic. It’s getting tired and you might need it later. Josey, try to act more afraid than pissed off.

And kid, Liam began when Harlow put a foot back up the stairwell. Stall until Galena and Shane have left. The moment you see another cop up there, I expect that EK unconscious and us to ditch.

Harlow nodded, though Galena stopped him from moving up again. Why not just knock him out ASAP? Why wait?

This isn’t a highly trained militant battle, Liam said.

It’s a turf war with a really clever and really lucky pyrokinetic, Shane finished.

In that moment, Rowan looked deep into Harlow. Harlow stared back and saw a rich man, the kind he knew well. Someone with a deep hunger to control the situation around them as much as they could. In there he saw a friend. The insatiable hunger.

Another moment, and he saw the gray hair and dishevelment of someone who had control and abused it.

He ascended the emergency stairwell back to the penthouse. They’d already spent too much time leaving the EK to ponder and communicate with the force down below. They were probably considering a sweep of the city in case their perpetrators had already teleported themselves to safety.

Harlow’s feet hit the floor panels. His hand itched where it kept his lighter open, thumb rubbing against the metal case. He stalked through his orange sea, circling behind the shouting EK and a wall before swiping away the fire toward the area behind an L-couch.

The lighter snapped shut. Harlow took a deep breath at the sudden absence.

Everything about the plan was suddenly very stupid.

A grumble. Harlow popped the lighter up again and swerved the flame, resulting in a shout instead from both the officer and then himself, ducking to the side of a shock.

Oh hell.

Carpet skidding. Thumping helicopter blades.

Fuck.

The helicopters.

What’s up, kid? Liam asked.

I somehow forgot about the eyes in the sky. Still circling for content. His focus was quickly split between the two, dashing and rolling from the next electrokinetic trail, hand dancing past him. He could probably tank a few hits easily, but it still hurt like hell to. He cringed, lucky he at least had the mask on.

We need to talk.

The statement took Harlow back so far he paused the reach he made toward the officer and hopped backwards. They spun on him, forcing the lighter to pop open in his hand into a wall.

Later. I’m in the middle of my job.

So am I, Liam huffed. I told you to stay put.

That’s not what you want to talk about.

He pulled his hand out of the way of the officer’s static line just before a strike was sent down, offering instead an easily-kickable remnant of the battle that had occurred prior to his involvement.

“Guess we’re doing the hard way…” the officer mumbled amid radio chatter, slipping slightly where they ended up.

Harlow narrowed his eyes.

No. I specifically told you to stay out of it. You were supposed to be the getaway.

Another arc of fire. Tumbling behind an interior wall, breathing.

Liam, Harlow struggled to output the right words coherently, J.E. Rowan is one of the richest men in the world. Streets are blocked for miles. Our van wouldn’t have done us shit. Not in this crowded mess of a city, not in the next.

Still.

Harlow scooped up the largest shard of glass he could find, careful to clear his palm from its edges and dragging fire along to melt it smoother.

I get it. You’re worried about me.

Liam made some strangled noise that screwed with one of Harlow’s motions again, forcing him back from his own efforts to push advantage. He cut through one of the officer’s traces, watching it fly static and random through the air around him, hair on end.

It’s not that. It’s like… Liam winced. Like you’re walking into a bar and they already know your order.

Liam.

Shut up and listen. Liam, somehow, finds a way to mentally grit his teeth. You’ve been on front-page news. You can’t keep appearing. Pulling off stunts. It’s dangerous for Cinder.

Then let me get this helicopter out of the air before they get more to work with.

I mean it.

I know. It was risky enough pulling a cop-in-training into the mess, but Amaterasu still chose to. Amaterasu would’ve chosen this, too, had she been given the chance. Maybe it would’ve never come this far at all.

Would he even be doing this right now, or would Raiden be doing it instead?

Hey, kid...

His hand stopped, inches from the electrokinetic, pulling back. It clenched as the officer pivoted and locked eyes with him again, wide-eyed at what he saw as another close call. With the way he disappeared for several seconds before once again spurting by, Harlow knew he needed to get out faster than he would’ve liked.

He threw up a wall of fire, gauging. How much would it take a helicopter to go down, or to call it quits?

This all felt wrong.

The fire snapped, and the officer halted in preparation for it to appear in front of him again. Instead, it shot up toward the camera, and the yelp was loud enough to be heard over the blades as the newscaster scrambled back. Harlow tightened the fire around the lens.

Electrokinesis shot at him and tackled him down, ripping a violent jerk that ended up smacking the officer upside the head and off.

Harlow rolled to the side and whined, shielding himself in a full shroud of fire. It hurt. Christ, did it hurt. Amplified the shreds of pain that adrenaline had forced him to forget.

You jumped onto a roof by explosion you fucking idiot, Harlow thought, one breath after another.

The officer hadn’t tried him again. He blinked, staring through the veil of flame thick enough to be white. They were staring.

Harlow looked up and found the newscaster retreating with the rest of the helicopter. Must not have brought a backup lens. Or didn’t want to chance more equipment.

He looked back at the cop.

Oh, Harlow realized. The elevator doors popped open to two more officers. Galena and Shane must have gotten away safe. Liam?

No answer.

Then he bolted at the EK officer, hand swathed in fire, bathing their bloodstream unconscious. Jumped behind the nearest cover, hearing bullets spray into the wall and click out. Harlow picked himself up and sprinted to the fire escape, grabbing the previously discarded duffel bag on the way, snapping the lighter shut, and focusing on not tripping.

“Liam!” he said, shaking the body leaning limply against the wall. “Shit.”

He heard the emergency door crank open above him and slung Liam over his shoulder, heaving and cracking the lighter open again to melt the heavy melt shut behind him. He heard the officers swear before sprinting as fast as he could with a man strung over him to the elevator and calling it.

Then decided against it. It would be obvious he went in there.

Fuck.

Rat in a trap.

He’s going to die if you don’t get him out.

What would Raiden do right now? Hide. Wait for backup. Supply aid.

Harlow darted into a random hotel room by melting through its deadbolt, positioning the door to a shut position before laying Liam down on the bed and splitting open the duffel bag. He set his lighter inside and grappled with the bandages to undress and redress the hole through Liam’s leg. Then he made sure his gun was full on ammo.

The door slammed open and Harlow swung his handgun in its direction. “Police! Put your hands in the air!”

His mask itched again, suddenly.

“You’re out of fire,” they started, then gestured at Liam. “Make it easy for yourself and for them. They need medical attention.”

His hand itched on the trigger. He’d probably get shot reaching for his lighter in the bag, so whatever this gun could produce would just have to make do. Harlow slowly aimed to their shoulder and fired, blasting enough heat to knock them out on contact with a spray of crimson along the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Harlow winced. Then he grabbed his bandages back and wrapped their shoulder, picking up all of his stuff again and moving.

“Come out with your hands up, we have the place surrounded!”

Miscellaneous gunfire. Harlow cursed and ducked behind the nearest wall, stretching out his arm with the lighter and flicking fire blindly down the hallway to shouting.

Hiding was not going to work.

Then, water.

Harlow struggled back a yelp, shutting the lighter before the hydrokinetic officer found that too. He pulled himself and Liam’s mess of skin and bone down the hallway and once again barged into a hotel room. He set Liam down and barricaded like all hell, melting furniture to the walls and the door with one panicky breath after another.

He tuned out the words and demands of the police, intent on the sound of shredding, of kinetics trying to break it all down.

“Could really use that evac, Doc...” he mumbled to himself at a loss.

There was nothing here.

Nowhere to go except for outside—but he couldn’t risk jumping out with Liam. Not without the ability to know if something went wrong.

I don’t care how bad this looks, okay? Raiden’s words came back to him.

“Okay,” Harlow said out loud.

We’re going to get out of this.

“Last time, I came out pretty mangled. We met your aunt, remember? That was weird. Whenever she threatened anyone, the floor started melting. That freaked me out, a little. She called my dad an asshole. You asked me if he always had a stick that far up his ass.” Harlow paused, some crack of a laughing cry escaping him. “There’s still so much you don’t know, Rai.”

The floor started melting.

Could he...?

The lighter clicked in his hand while the other opened the bathroom door. He settled the fire on the floor there and built it up, then took just a little and began to carve through the window along the outer wall slowly, steadily, until he could settle each pane in a pile beside him.

His makeshift thermite had done the job behind him by the time he was done and he shoved two of the pillows on the bed inside of the duffel bag to then drop inside the hole.

Next was Liam, who he dragged over to the hole and slowly lowered as far as he could before letting go. Luckily his head hit straight on the pillows. Harlow then shut the door and brought himself down carefully, cursing softly and landing first on the sink counter before climbing down to the floor.

Harlow pulled Liam off the duffel bag, took out the pillows, and slung it around himself once more so he could then haul Liam up again.

Then he started moving. First through the empty hotel room that looked abandoned in a scramble and then through the empty hallway to the fire escape. Each step down felt like an assault flooding through him until he heard muffled talking behind the door on one landing.

“Stay vigilant, we’ve got an armed pyrokinetic on our hands. Appears class-D, but apparently they were able to melt through one of the floors. Could be anywhere, continue to sweep the building.”

Some shred of radio chatter.

“Get Michaels and Packard out of here and to the paramedics, we don’t know what our guy did yet and we shouldn’t assume.”

How many people were at the bottom?

Fuck—how was Wayne supposed to find him?

Harlow set down Liam, cracked his lighter, fueled, and sprung open the door. His fist, half-open, struck the officer off-guard and instantly, allowing Harlow to catch him and set him against the wall. Harlow lifted the radio off and took a few deep breaths.

His head hurt and he gave himself time to lean against the wall and breathe, slowly in and out.

He lolled his head at the unconscious officer and sighed out a quiet “sorry.”

When he picked up and moved into some random room some number of floors down, he began to feel the soreness spread in each muscle as though each got its own center of pain. Harlow laid Liam out on the bed in the room and took to the nearest chair to groan.

If they could’ve been good, if that portrayal of their team had been an option, he would not be trapped here with Liam.

Harlow huffed out a laugh.

This was entirely avoidable. But it happened, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

He cleared his throat and looked at Liam. His chest was still rising and falling, which was all things considered a good sign. He changed Liam’s soaked bandage again and knocked on the incoming migraine.

Was moving again an option?

Stabs of numb pain floated through his fingers and he clenched his hand, awkwardly.

Hopefully the few doors he’d opened along the way were enough to stall for time. Enough time. They’d surround him next time they came. Every room, sides, below, above, maybe outside too. At least Raiden would have known the police codes—more than Harlow remembered anyway.

Click. “Uh, we’ve got another person in here. Just had a table thrown from halfway down the hall.”

Harlow grabbed the radio and leaned forward despite protests from his back.

“What was that?”

“Possibility of a hostile TK. Status on our PY?”

“Nothing.”

Harlow’s hand itched. That wasn’t enough.

“SWAT TE line just went down,” an angrier voice said suddenly. “What floors haven’t been checked yet?”

Harlow trained his handgun at the door of the room, narrowing his eyes to a point and focusing his snapped lighter to the bullet in the chamber. Maybe a minute passed before an officer cracked the door open and paused.

“Raise that gun, your hands, or any kind of kinetic, and this bullet’s in your shoulder like the last guy,” Harlow offered, low and spent. “Drop the gun. Kick it over.”

They obliged. He willed himself to stay in focus, getting up from the chair and putting a foot on top of the gun, trained on target.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Harlow inched closer, motioning for the officer to kneel while firing up a wall of fire to block sight of anything useful, who did. “I’m a merc, you get that? Boss took a bad job. I’m stuck with the consequences. But I will do what I have to do. Badge and ID.”

The radio crackled. Harlow heard a few footsteps from above pound out toward the stairwell.

Harlow took the officer’s hand and knocked them out, in the same motion taking the credentials and guiding them slowly to the ground. A-class aerokinetic. Not exactly the most useful against pyrokinetics anyway.

He breathed a sigh of relief and held a gun to the officer’s head, dragging them back further into the room and blinking a few times by the time the rest of their brigade arrived. Harlow was drained, and they could all probably see it.

“Let’s think about this,” one said after a few moments.

He bowed his head, slightly, in affirmation. His lighter flame winked, and he held it gentle, broken, divided, each finger on the gun moving and static in slights.

“This can be easy.”

“No,” Harlow said quietly. “No it can’t.”

You have never made it easy.

None of you.

Only one.

“Apologies for the intrusion, friends,” Wayne’s voice popped in behind him, with shifting and movement and some version of a swear word. “But I’ll wrap this up quick for you.”

Let the officer go when you answer, Wayne told Harlow only.

“Have a great rest of your lives, men. Hard to find decent mercenary-types these days. I’ll be taking these two back to deal with Rowan. Won’t I?” Wayne cupped Harlow’s face, delicately, in act. He could feel the weight of Liam and the duffel bag looming behind him.

Harlow glared forward, and he shoved the officer’s limp body forward with a soft right.

The first reaction he had was to throw his head to the side and rip off the mask in preparation for the throw-up that came immediately after. His handgun and lighter clattered to the floor along with it.

“If that had been Amaterasu’s decision,” Wayne snapped, “she would’ve had you all bite the bullet and book it together.”

Shane huffed audibly. Harlow threw up again, a hand going to his back.

“Just because Liam’s unconscious doesn’t mean you can shit on his decision making,” Galena said. “She left him in charge, and we needed a teleporter as an emergency evacuation protocol, as per any mission involving Storm. No one else was available.”

“He should’ve gotten Ainsley.” Harlow struggled the hand away from him.

“Ainsley would’ve pissed Josey off.”

“I’m right here,” Rowan called. “Frankly all of you have pissed me off. I’d like some semblance of an explanation as to why I was kidnapped and dragged to some hole after a battle at my back door.”

Shane sighed. “ ‘Cause you’re a fucked up man, Josey, we’ve been over this.”

“That doesn’t explain fuck-all!” Rowan cried out. “Get me out of here.”

“A little someone wanted to make an example out of you, Joselyn,” Wayne said, suddenly very calm amidst some slight clinking. “If Amaterasu doesn’t hit any bells for you, does Nacht?”

Quiet. Harlow finally allowed himself to look up, taking a water as he stood. Rowan seemed to be doing everything in his power not to portray himself like a spoiled child. Galena had one hand on her hip, resting above a firearm, Shane was resting against a stack of matte black gun crates, and Liam was laid out on a table with Wayne hovering over him, focusing on Liam’s leg.

Rowan sputtered. “What makes you think I would know the names of everyone who thinks I’ve wronged them?”

“How about Mariah Wolford?”

J.E. Rowan’s mouth froze, half-open into another rant, before clamping shut.

“This group of kidnappers just saved you from the deadly wrath of one of her children, Joselyn. You’d do better to thank them than beg to go offer yourself to what you created.” Wayne laughed, briskly. “We’re lucky he didn’t show up himself. It would’ve been in character.”

That was right, wasn’t it?

Nacht could have left this to someone else. Typically that’s how things played out in an organization of the size he had—but from what little Harlow knew and had experienced, he liked to do things himself. Or, at least, someone he kept close to his chest.

He personally spent two hours making sure I was alone. His son went after me on a seemingly planned whim. Nacht had people make a show of it, both times. Rowan’s apparently directly related to him somehow, yet he wasn’t here?

“You’re thinking too far into it, Urban,” Wayne said. “He probably didn’t think anyone would be able to rat this plan to Cinder for temporary immunity. Probably thought Joselyn someone not even worth his time until he could send a message out of it.”

“Just what kind of message,” Rowan began with a terrified skepticism, “was ‘he’ trying to send?”

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