#even if not exactly alike but its the aura the personality the-

[nandors-girlwife]

Me: I don't have a type

Also me:

part 1

[lexosaurus]

Phic Phight: how to make a deal with the devil

For @kinglazrus

Title: how to make a deal with the devil WC: 2814 CW: corpse au Summary: In which Dash goes trail running only to find Phantom hovering over the dead body of his classmate.

[ao3]

****

“What do you want?” Phant—Fenton(?)’s eyes bore straight into Dash, his expression dark. Meanwhile, Dash was too busy flickering his attention between the pissed-off ghost and the…

…

“Well?” Phantom folded his arms.

“Uh…what?” Dash asked.

“What do you want? A lifetime of free passes to beat me up? Me to do your homework for the next month? What is it?”

“Um…” He tried to peel his eyes away from the gruesome sight before him, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop seeing the protruding bones, decaying flesh, holes, wrinkles, burns.

Jesus fuck. 

And Phantom—Fenton, it was Fenton—towered above him, his simmering aura murky despite its bright glow, his eyes blistering into Dash’s skull.

He…wanted something? From Dash?

But why?

Dash was never the smartest person in class. He never got the best grades, he never knew all the answers. So maybe he just wasn’t smart enough to understand, or maybe it was a little fucked up that there was a dead, decaying corpse between them and Fenton-Phantom didn’t seem the least bit phased by it.

“I’m sorry, I—uh—what the fuck?”

Phantom slapped his hand to his forehead. “I’m asking what you want in exchange for keeping your mouth shut.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So, you know, just name your price.”

Dash swallowed thickly, his nose burning from the smell. He finally tore his eyes away from the corpse to see Phantom bristle, crossing his arms once again. Dash was sure that if the ghost had legs at the moment, he’d be tapping his foot with impatience.

He just…he didn’t understand. Why was Fenton’s corpse here when he was standing—floating—before him? How was this possible?

And how the fuck was Phantom really Fenton?

“Are you dead?” The words stumbled out of Dash’s mouth before he could stop himself, and his face instantly flushed in regret.

Phantom’s eyebrows pulled in, and his lips thinned. Dash watched as one of his gloved hands tightened its grip on his arm.

Shit, shit. Was that rude? Wasn’t it a cardinal sin to ask a ghost about their death?

But then the fear zapped through him and disappeared once again. Because really, truly, he was just confused. He didn’t get how this was possible, how Danny Fenturd, the loser who he had been picking on since the sixth grade, was the town hero. 

Well, they did look sort of alike. Now that Dash had seen the transformation with his own eyes, he had mentally slapped himself for not spotting their similarities earlier. Even if the whole Phantom is a ghost and the glowing aura had made things a bit fuzzier.

But their face shape, general height, and haircut were where those similarities ended. Because everything else was drastically different. So different, in fact, that Dash was still reeling at how the fuck this confident, angry ghost with his shoulders back and threatening aura spilling from his pores could be the same weakling who ran from Dash at every minor thing.

Seriously, what the fuck?

“Well?” He found himself pressing. “Are you?”

Phantom took a long, deep breath like he was about to lecture a group of children. “I’m not explaining myself to you.”

Dash blinked.

Of all the answers, that hadn’t been one of them.

Especially since…

Dash pointed to the corpse on the ground. “I think you have to.”

He wasn’t sure exactly where he was getting the balls to pry from, but Fenton-Phantom didn’t look particularly surprised.

But instead of responding, Phantom posed a question of his own. “What the hell were you even doing out here?”

“Training,” Dash said simply. 

Which hadn’t even been a lie. These hiking trails were some of the best around for conditioning running.

And that one line also seemed to slice through the last of the spell in Dash’s mind. The ice melted in his body, and he felt like he could move again, and then the questions poured out of him in a tsunami. “Seriously, what the fuck, Fenton? Why the fuck do you have a corpse of yourself here? How are you Phantom?”

“Why do you think I have a corpse of myself here? For fun?”

“This isn’t fucking funny. Are you really dead? Have you been disguising yourself as a human all this time?”

“I’m not actually dead. I’m half dead. That body is only half of me.”

Dash was no expert, but it certainly looked and smelled like the full thing.

“It was my parent’s portal accident. I was inside when it turned on, and it killed me and brought me back to life. But not all of me made it.”

Jesus. That didn’t sound better than what Dash had been thinking. He tried to picture his soul ripping from his body, but refusing to let go, still clinging onto the scraps. It sounded horrific. 

Was that even possible? Was Fenton just delusional?

“Why the hell did you take it from the ground?” Dash said instead.

“I didn’t! The stupid rainstorm flooded this area and eroded a bunch of dirt. I guess I didn’t bury it deep enough the first time so now I’m fixing it.”

Fixing…it…?

What the HELL was there to fix?

“You mean you’re not going to tell the police?”

Dash could have sworn the temperature dropped several degrees. But maybe that was just the chill from Phantom’s now-blazing aura which seemed to dim the world around it.

“We’re not talking to the police.”

It was a statement. A threat.

…Oh. 

Dash understood the question from before.“What do you want?” 

What Dash wanted was to dial 911, but that was supposedly no longer an option. Still, he couldn’t help but run his big, dumb mouth as he said, “What will you do if I report this?”

Because he knew he’d done a lot of stupid things—a lot of stupid things—but being complicit in covering up a dead body?

Jesus Christ.

And now his mind was reeling once again. 

He could picture it. The day the police found the body. Forensics running DNA analysis just like they did in the crime shows and extracting a single strand of Dash’s blond hair. They’d pull him into the interrogation room, and a mustached man wearing sunglasses would interrogate him for hours as if Dash were the murderer, citing reports of Dash wailing on Fenton in class, saying that he had the motive and the evidence to lock him up for life. Dash would have no choice but break down and tell them the truth, that he’d been running in the woods, he stumbled across Phantom bent over the dead body, that he’d screamed and had tried to run away but Phantom was quicker, he cornered Dash not even five steps into his attempted escape, and he’d transformed into a living copy of that same corpse rotting in the ground to try to prove that he wasn’t dead.

Would the police even believe a crazy story like that?

Either way, Dash would be fucked. He would either be locked away for murder, or he’d be locked away in aiding a cover-up. And that was something he couldn’t do. 

No. 

No way.

No matter how much he loved Phantom…his hero…

Shit. Fucking shit.

“Well? What will it take?” Fenton-Phantom said

“Fenton, I—”

“I will do your homework for the rest of the school year.”

The offer was tempting, Dash had to admit it. But it wasn’t like Fenton’s grades were much higher than Dash’s at the moment.

“No, that’s—Fenton, I’m serious.”

“And so am I.” Phantom’s stare was dead-on. “Do you know what the government will do to me? If you report this?”

Dash shivered. Had it always been this cold under the shade?

“Ghosts aren’t citizens of the United States, Dash. They’re not human. They’re not given the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It doesn’t matter if I have a heartbeat and a pulse when I also have a ghost core. Do you understand? They will kidnap me and I will become the government’s personal lab rat for the rest of my life.”

Nausea swept through him, and his fingers felt numb despite their obvious trembling. 

And Phantom was slowly creeping closer across the path. A trail of frost followed the dirt under him, and static seemed to crackle in the air.

“Do you know what branch the Guys in White fall under? The Department of Defense. You know, like the military. You really want the military to have unlimited access to a level seven ectoplasmic creature’s core? One whose powers could easily level an entire city block?”

Had Fenton always been like this? Threatening? Fierce? Was the scared, aloof idiot that Dash had seen every day in school just a persona that he’d been wearing?

“Ghosts are highly manipulative creatures,” Dr. Maddie Fenton read off a paper. She stood in front of the class dressed in her signature teel hazmat suit, a whiteboard with GHOST 101 written in large letters splayed behind her. “They will do anything to satisfy their ghosty obsessions. They’ll play any role, and they will sweet talk, argue, challenge—whatever they need to do in order to fulfill that obsession. They are semi-sentient, true, but they are not sapient. They do not have the same brain functionality that you or I do. They cannot truly learn, grow, or feel empathy to others. They can fake it, they can express a whole range of human emotions, but at the end of the day they are nothing but imprints of ecto-electricity.”

But no…he had never really believed that, did he?

He always loved Phantom. Looked up to him. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…

“What about Phantom?” Dash asked, too impatient to raise his hand. “More powerful ones are different, right? So what about Phantom?”

“Power doesn’t lead to sapience. It doesn’t necessarily mean wisdom, the ability to learn and grow. Ghosts can only act on their impulses, and their impulses tell them to do whatever it is that will satisfy their core. They’re a bit like mosquitos, just ones that can talk,” Dr. Fenton responded.

“I don’t know, Phantom clearly loves me!” Paulina said. “He saved me from a ghost last week, it was so romantic! He even remembered my name!”

“Because interacting with the younger generation benefits him. He wants to be seen as the town hero, so he will do whatever it takes to get there.”

But now, that can’t be right. Phantom wasn’t like that, he was different. He was telling the truth about being a half-ghost! Even though that was impossible….No, he wasn’t just faking it to manipulate Dash. He was different. He was a hero. 

“So let’s make a deal, Dash. What do you want in exchange for keeping this quiet?”

He wouldn’t lie to everyone about this. He was telling the truth. He wasn’t manipulating anyone. 

“Um…” Dash felt his brain short-circuiting. 

God, was that…burnt lime coming from the corpse? Why did it smell like that?

He felt his eyes prickle, and he blinked away any shininess that was threatening to appear. He couldn’t let Fenton-Phantom see his emotions, could let the ghost-not-ghost(?) see the cracks within him. 

But not because he believed Dr. Fenton—even though she had a PhD in ecto-biology and certainly knew more about ectology than Dash—but it was because he needed to look tough! It wasn’t…just in case.

“How about this? I’ll never tell a single soul about your bad habit of wailing on the nerds, and I’ll offer to be your free stress-reducing punching bag for the rest of high school. In exchange, this stays between us. Deal?”

This was wrong. No, Dash couldn’t make this deal.

This was so so fucked up. 

He didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know the full story. All he knew was what was in front of him, and that was the dead body of his (former?) classmate, and his ghost hovering above it with the typical goofy, carefree expression swapped for something far more dangerous.

“Okay,” he breathed, his tongue barely moving. “Okay. Deal.”

Fenton-Phantom uncrossed his arms to extend a hand out to Dash, who only hesitated for a moment before meeting him halfway.

He suppressed the shutter as his body was plunged into a freezer at the contact.

But he’s still half-alive…right?

“Good.” The carefree smile was back on Fenton-Phantom’s face, the tension in his jaw melting away its sharp angles and his blazing aura reducing to something more shimmery, more heroic.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to put my half-corpse back into the ground.”

Dash couldn’t stumble away quick enough, and despite the lactic-acid beginning to build in his legs, he found himself all but sprinting away once he was sure he was out of Phantom’s eyeline.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Dash had made a deal with Phantom. He had made a deal with a ghost. 

No, a hero.

Phantom was a hero. 

But he didn’t look like a hero when Dash saw him. He looked stressed, his green eyes were too shifty. And even when he’d transformed to Fenton to “prove” that he was still alive, for the first time, he didn’t really seem that alive. Dash could still feel the hints of the chill, he could still see the way Fenton’s teeth looked a little too sharp and the tips of his ears were a little too narrow and his skin just looked a little too olive-green.

God, how had he been so stupid? How had he not seen it before?

How had no one noticed?

Was Phantom just really that good at fooling everyone? Had he put the town under a spell?

Dash reached the edge of the forest and bent down, panting. He hadn’t even realized how much his throat was screaming for more air. 

Fuck.

He fumbled in his pockets and ripped his phone out.

He had just made a deal with Phantom about hiding a dead corpse. 

Dash was many things, but this?

He pressed the ringing phone to his ear. His heart pounded in his chest, and every ring felt like a century.

But then the other line clicked on, and relief washed over him as he heard the famous, “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I just found a dead body.” Cold plunged through Dash as he realized what had happened all over again. “I found Phantom hovering over a dead body. I think…I think it was his.”

There was a pause on the other line.

“What is your location?”

“I’m at Rosemary Park. It was about a half-mile in from the parking lot, right off of the diamond path. I…I think Phantom was burying the body again. It, god, it was Danny Fenton. Fenton is Phantom. He’s dead.”

“Okay, please stay calm. Emergency services have been dispatched to your location. What is your name?” 

“No, I can’t stay here. Phantom will kill me if he knows I called.”

“Sir, did he see you?”

“Yeah. He would know it’s me.”

“Please stay on the line. Can you get to a safe location?”

“I…” Dash felt the world tip, and he forced it to righten. “I can get to my car. I’m sorry, I need to get to my car. I need to go.”

Dash hung up, despite the protesting on the other end.

He needed to get out of here. 

He ripped open the door to his car, threw himself inside, jammed the key into the lock, and all but floored it away. It only took a few minutes down the highway before he began to hear the sirens in the distance.

Shit, fucking shit. 

If Phantom wasn’t caught…

He swerved to the first exit. 

If Phantom found out that Dash tattled, he would kill Dash, and no one would know what happened because no one would know that Dash was the one who called.

So Dash needed help.

He needed people to know who he was. 

He needed protection. 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s me again. The one who just called in Phantom’s body. Uh, Dash Baxter. I’m…coming into the station. I think he’ll try to kill me if he gets away.”

“Alright. What station are you driving to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you currently?”

“I just pulled off of exit fourteen.”

“There is a police station about two miles from you. Do you know where the Verizon building is?”

“I…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“There’s a station right next to it. Can I transfer you to their building?”

“Okay.” 

“Alright, please hold,” the voice said.

The silence was deafening.

And then a voice appeared in his ear once again. And Dash could have shuttered in relief because it meant he was going to be okay.

Sorry, Fenton. But I had to.

I had to.

****

[read more of my writing]

[danielsarmand]

writober 2023 | DAY FIVE · mutual pining

To Helmeppo, Koby is the sun, blinding.

He can hardly stand looking at him, at times; it gets too much.

He cannot make sense of it, really. He does not understand where the hell all that light comes from.

He remembers with a certain fondness the days when he found it annoying. When he looked at his pink-haired colleague and thought, oh, spare me. Spare me the spectacle. Leave me in the dark.

But Koby is nothing if not persistent, and Helmeppo is nothing if not a liar. So, as one kept on shining, pure white glow blurring the edges of his frame, the other clung to him. Like a dying man clings to his last breath.

If Koby is the sun, then, that must make Helmeppo the moon.

Whatever brightness he possesses, whatever light he sheds, if any, he knows exactly where it comes from. It’s a reflection, a replica. He steals it from Koby and pretends it’s his, so that he might feel closer to him. A twin star.

Truth is, they are nothing alike. And truth is, Koby has his own sun to squint at, to recklessly reach for, uncaring of its potential to melt skin, turn bone into dust.

Helmeppo has tried to hate Luffy for it. He’s tried to resent him, like he’s sure many people have, albeit for different reasons. But he has this aura about him that makes it really hard to, and though Helmeppo has turned into quite the fighter, he has also learned to pick his battles. For as much as he wishes he could, at the end of the day he can’t bring himself to truly dislike Luffy, even when he fantasizes about a world where his body has a light-switch somewhere, or something to dim the brightness, at least.

“Where are you?”

Helmeppo feels a finger poke his side and looks down at Koby, who’s lying with his head on his lap in this corner of beach they’ve cut out for themselves. They’re off-duty, it’s late and none of them could sleep, though that’s another lie; Helmeppo is tired, his body aches and the sound of the waves is minutes away from lulling him into the sweetest of dreams.

“I’m here, what do you mean?”

He stretches his back as he says it, arches it, rolls his neck. His eyelids drop closed as he sighs in relief, but he frowns as he feels the weight of Koby shifting away from him.

“You’re miles away. I asked you a question and you didn’t even notice,” Koby says.

Helmeppo furrows his brow.

“What was the question, again?”

He feels a pair of small, oddly soft hands on his shoulders. Lets his head fall backwards a little as they start kneading away the accumulated tension.

Koby chuckles.

“I didn’t ask anything,” he admits. “But you proved my point.”

Helmeppo elbows him softly in the stomach. He smiles. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s okay,” Koby says, as he keeps working his muscles loose.

·

“You know I like you, right?”

Koby’s words float around them and land nowhere in particular. They simply fly away, transported by the wind to be heard by the wrong person, one that wouldn’t care, one that isn’t waiting for them. Then again, maybe Helmeppo isn’t either. Maybe that’s why they don’t reach him.

He glances up and his friend is staring at the moon, having a conversation with her that Koby cannot eavesdrop on, no matter how hard he tries.

He digs his finger in his side to catch his attention.

“Where are you?” he asks.

[eriinyx]

[Kuberafest] Side Story: The Crystal Sisters

Hi ! So, here is my participation to the 2023 Kuberafest ! I've wanted to write an OCs oneshot in the Kuberaverse for sooooooo long. This universe just has so much potential. Granted, the theme "Side Story" is not exactly about OCs, yet The End of a Fiendish Magician was about a completely new character, so I just decided I could give it a shot too. Thus, I hope you will enjoy this oneshot ! I precise that English is not my birth language, so feel free to report any language inconcistencies.

There are hundreds of magicians on planet Willarv, and before the cataclysm, there were even more. However, only a few of them will be remembered. While priests and priestesses shine in the daylight, welcomed as rightful kings and queens of the cities, most magicians will die a cruel, lonesome, and unremembered death. This is the story of three of them. - The Crystal Sisters -

N14, Rindhallow, Night of the Witches

There was a bustling crowd that evening at Rindhallow Magic Guild, for it was a night of celebration. The annual festival, the Night of the Witches, would take place once more there. Magicians, fighters, and common folk alike gathered to witness the event. And amongst the crowd, many were the topics of discussion.

“I can’t wait to see the appearance of Lady Laila, our estimeed priestess !”

“They say Ruche Seiran will make an appearance. Do you think that’s true ?”

“I don’t know for sure. But Agwen Rajof has announced her participation!”

But still, none could forget the big event of that night: the traditional joint performance. It used to host very popular guests, and the survivors of the Cataclysm recalled fondly the one which took place in D995, involving Jibril Ajes and Laila Hemawati. That year, it was going to be performed by a trio, three witches which became famous as mercenary magicians for their achievements, their looks, and their dedication to the half cause. Those were the Crystal Witches.

The crowd gathered near the main stage, and whispers began to arouse. The stage was empty, nobody to be found. But then, suddenly, as if a veil of darkness had been suddenly lifted, three figures appeared in the stage. They all had one knee on the flour, and the opposing arm proudly carrying a staff, its head pointing towards the skies. Simultaneously, they raised it up, and their tips crossed, when, with a single shared voice, they all spelled:

“Hoti Kubera!”

And a golden light enveloped the three beautiful looking women who began dancing in the stage.

Ombre Perdin was the most discrete of the three, but not the least talented. She was known to be an introverted person, but quick and efficient when it came to her job. She survived the cataclysm, which in itself was a proof of her talent. She was ranking A amongst magicians, and could even use silent magic. The mysterious air she exuded drew many fans to her, but she was as slippy as a shadow, and as free as the wind.

Her dark green dress waved silently as the choregraphy began, and her raven hair, tied in a perfect bun, amplified that mystic aura of hers. After a few calculated steps, she ended up being in the center of the stage, surrounded by her two acolytes. “Bhavati chandra!”

As she exclaimed herself, a bounty of amplifiers just appeared from all parts of the stage, as her two comrades lined up behind her. Suddenly, Ombre dropped her staff to put her two hands behind her head, which were most instantly grabbed by another fine pair.

“Bhavati kubera!”

The young ladies were sent off flying, and in a perfectly calculated movement, Ombre threw her partner soaring into the air.

Azura Grey was a pureblood magician. Unlike the other two, she was not yet a magician when the cataclysm happened, and obtained her A-ranking license later. She was shining as a ray of sun, and her cheerfulness and positivism was what gained her many favors. Though she did not wield silent magic, she had advanced understanding of magic, and was able to use her three non matching attributes quite well. She was the one more often seen, as she was the social one. Back when she was a student, she became famous amongst Mistyshore university student for her beautiful singing voice.

Her long, beautiful cerulean hair was let free of all constraints, and her simple, yet ample white dress, along with her bright smile, made her look right like an angel, in the middle of the skies. She was spinning while grabbing the staff she had attached to her back, and it was as if time had simply stopped in this moment.

“Hoti varuna “

The water that was resting in the garden’s basins was sent flying all around her, and discomposed into beautiful drops that turned silently around her. Losing the impulse she had gotten from her partner’s bhavati kubera spell, she began to lose height, but she would not let it happen so easily.

“Bhavati vayu”

And thus, she landed on thin air, as if it had been some ground, while the wind was making her hair float around herself like a fairy amongst the bubbles. At this moment, two voices came into harmony, casting the same spell:

“Bhavati surya”

And a wave of light pierced every water that was still floating in the air, making it shine like little pearls, as it discomposed into thin particles.

The leader was undoubtedly the most famous of the three, Aka Talis. Many people said about her, that her only flaw as a magician was her non matching attributes. With a tremendous divine affinity, quick calculation abilities, and grasp of silent magic, she long held the title of the best ranking magicians with three different birth attributes, and though she now only ranked second, most people did not pay as much attention to the first than to her. Proudly harboring her A-rank, she was a firm defender of the half cause and sponsored many of them.

Aside from her magical talents, many were mesmerized by her looks, and though she did not rival in beauty magicians like Brilith Ruin or Airi Yui, she still had numerous fans, whose dates or proposals she always refused. Her gown made her look absolutely stunning this night: a simple, yet striking red, revealing enough of her proud figure without being too vulgar. Her blond hair was tied in a simple ponytail, which slowly fell towards her left shoulder, and her red eyes captured her mesmerizing gaze.

“Hoti indra hoti agni”

With some simple words and while slowly waving her staff, Aka made pillars of intertwined fire and lightning flood the stage right around her and Azura, who was still floating in the air. As they fell to the ground, all that could be seen was this tall and proud shadow. The calculations were perfect, precise to a millimeter, as the spell had perfectly hit the bhavati chandra amplifiers, which magnified it. Ombre, which had disappeared from the stage, suddenly resurfaced. She was so discrete no one ever heard her cast hoti chandra, and as Azura slowly regained the ground, the three of them found themselves again on the stage, and continued their choregraphy, moving around each other in a dance they had repeated so much they could do it while sleeping.

“Hoti varuna bhavati varuna”

With a simple gesture, Azura created a thousand of little floating icebergs, that moved towards the air around Aka. “Bhavati indra bhavati agni”

And the quarter followed with an incredibly difficult fusion spell that blasted them away in a show of lightning and fire which cautiously avoided her partners.

And as the golden light disappeared along with the effects of the hoti kubera spell, the three magicians closed in for a final pose, their leader in the center.

“Hoti chandra” And with these words spoken so faintly that only the three of them could hear, Ombre made them disappear from the stage.

The public was ecstatic. The demonstration of tonight was incredibly difficult. The fusion spells used were known to be extremely difficult to master, and it must have taken years for them to use these. Cheers and applauses rose from the crowd, so loud that they could be heard in the entire city.

As they returned to the wings, Aka suddenly crumbled, and Ombre raced to her side to heal her with hoti asvins.

“I overdid it again… isn’t it ? I feel like I’ve used a week worth of vigor…” Aka whispered faintly.

“Why did you decide to use that stupid fusion spell without telling us ? Each time you tried it during the repetitions, you fainted ! I was so worried when I heard you say bhavati agni!” Azura screamed, yet silently enough so that the public could not hear.

“I just… wanted to… shine tonight…” Aka answered, trying to catch on her breath.

As Aka’s eyes closed, Azura tears began flowing from her eyes.

“No need to concern you. She’ll get better in a day or two. She just needs some rest.” Ombre replied, not even trying to hide her annoyance.

“It’s always the same about the two of you”, Azura responded. “No. It’s always the same about you all silent magicians !” she continued, with anger growing up in her voice with every word. “I just can’t understand you all! You always take things too rationally ! You do not have an ounce of compassion left in your body, be it for others or for yourselves ! Aka is suffering, and it seems like you both do not care at all!”

Ombre turned her head and looked at her partner with sheer contempt in her eyes.

“No, you will never understand. You were but a little girl when it all happened. You never had to kill people you cared about because they had gone berserk without warning. You never woke up in a bath of blood you created. You never had to stab your own lover out of self-defense so that you could survive. And I pray that you never will. ”

Azura’s face darkened, suddenly realizing what she had said.

“I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” she began to mumble.

“It’s okay”, Ombre replied. “I’m glad… I’m glad that that part of you is still intact. For it is something that I will never get back.”

Azura smiled, as her last tears pearled onto her eyes. For she knew they would not fail her. For she knew that, if she simply wished that the three of them live, the other two would comply out of friendship. Even if they lost part of their humanity, their bonds would remain, now and forever.

Three talented magicians, who found themselves by chance, and never left each other even since.

Though they were not related by blood, they were sisters. Family.

Atera Attack

N16, Month of Destruction

Reported missing

Aka Talis

Quarter

A magician

D962, 7/33

Agni – Indra – Surya

Ombre Perdin

Quarter

A magician

D956, 2/14

Chandra – Chandra – Kubera

Azura Grey

Pureblood

A magician

D987, 6/5

Surya – Vayu – Varuna

[celestialnxva]

Audacity

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Everyone in the Ton knew that Benedict was someone that did not show his irritation or anger often. However, when it came to his spouse, the Ton realized that an angry Benedict is quite a terrifying one. 

Warnings: fluff, general warning for Cressida Cowper because she irritates me, just Benedict being a loving husband, it does get kinda suggestive in the end.

benedict masterlist. | main masterlist.

To say that Benedict Bridgerton loved you was quite an understatement.

From the moment he laid eyes on you and the way you moved across the room, his eyes had opened to the enchanting world that love had to offer. With each click of your heels against the ballroom floor while you made your way towards him, your ethereal beauty and aura overwhelmed his senses and spirit. His heart throbbed painfully in chest as you danced the night away with him. He would never forget that night and how your body felt against his. If someone told him then that you would eventually become his spouse, he would’t have believed them. 

Yet you were his, and he considered himself to be the luckiest man in the entire universe.

The Bridgertons were the only family in the Ton who focused on love matches, rather than marrying for status. Granted, they didn’t have to exactly worry about their status in society or their financial security, but in every season, each Bridgerton child had found themselves their own, true love match. 

They should all feel jealous towards the family and their luck, but many members of the Ton didn’t seem to care enough to do so or simply admired the family’s fortunes. Either way, they never expressed these feelings, as it would be unwise to make enemies with a powerful family such as theirs. They may not have the highest rank in the Ton, but between their intimate connections with the Queen and Lady Whistledown’s obsession with them, it would be unwise for the Ton to cross the Bridgertons in any way. 

For those lucky souls marrying into the Bridgerton family such as yourself, it was common knowledge that the Bridgertons’ influence extended to each new family members’ reputations as well. After all, they were a lovely family and only wished for the new additions in the family to feel like they were part of their family too. Therefore, it was also an unspoken rule in the Ton not to cross their spouses too. These rules seemed to create a sense of peace between each of the families for the first few seasons with the Bridgertons, until the day you and Benedict announced your courtship and engagement to the Ton. 

All were surprised and many were shocked, as a Bridgerton had taken interest of a foreigner from another country who had only been out to this society due to Lady Danbury’s mysterious decision to sponsor them that season. Many mama’s were angry that yet another Bridgerton child had been plucked out of the marriage mart, and especially angry that it had been done by someone that had never even lived there at all. 

Despite the angry disapprovals from jealous debutantes and mama’s alike, the Queen forced them all to silence their complaints. When you were involved with a Bridgerton, it was common fact that the Queen will be watching closely of the match that blossomed beautifully in front of her eyes. In this season, the Queen had not only taken interest in you, but she sympathized with you and your journey to introducing yourself to this society. It was always difficult to be thrust into a new country without any experience in its local traditions. She of all people knew the pain and anxiety you must have felt this season. 

To make matters worse for jealous members of the Ton, you married into the family with a wedding that was personally overseen by the Queen herself. It seemed that the rest of the families’ luck dwindled down as more seasons passed by with the Bridgertons on the marriage mart, so it was only a matter of time before someone in the Ton finally snapped.

And to no one’s surprise, it was the Cowper family. 

Everyone knew that when they expressed their hatred towards someone, they made sure everyone knew about it. And with the upcoming ball hosted by Lady Danbury and the Queen, Lady Cowper and Cressida Cowper made sure that the whole Ton would know about your dirty little secret. 

———

You were almost tempted by Benedict’s offer to skip the upcoming ball hosted by Lady Danbury, as it would only occur shortly after your honeymoon. Even though you considered what he suggested, you knew that it was only right to attend. After all, you owed it to Lady Danbury for taking you under her wing and securing for you this season’s famous love match. It was only right to go.

“My darling,” you said with a sympathetic look in your eyes. Benedict had stopped kissing your neck and leaned back to stare into your eyes out of concern. Did he say something to offend you? He hoped not. He started overthinking before you leaned in to kiss his forehead tenderly. 

“We must go to the ball, love. I consider Lady Danbury to be a mother figure in my life, and I would also like for you to remember that if it were not for her sponsorship, I would have not met you,” you said lovingly. He supposed you were right. You always were. He grumbled in reluctant agreement. “Then we shall go to the ball.”

“Although,” he said before slyly wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. He leaned in until his lips were inches away from yours. “Do not think for a second that I will let you wander even an inch away from my side,” he whispered teasingly. You giggled at his antics and wrapped your own arms around his waist as well. “But my love... I was planning to wear your favorite gown that you bought for me the other day,” you whined childishly before your lips pursed into a seductive smirk.

“If you must insist on me staying close to you tomorrow night, I will do so. However,” you paused and leaned in to kiss him slowly before pulling away to shyly look up at him through your lashes. “I will make sure that when I do walk away from you, you will enjoy the sight of me doing so,” you purred before the two of you lost yourselves in each other’s loving embrace for the rest of the night.

———

Everyone at the ball felt the emotional high of being at Lady Danbury’s ball once again, as it was rare for her to host more than one ball each season. They chalked it up to her wishing for her favorite tea time confidant to come back and spend time with her after their honeymoon. That, and it was a rare ball in which the Queen had proposed to host alongside Lady Danbury. Clearly, you were a favorite of the Queen’s and nobody could ever dispute that.

As each family slowly wandered into the ballroom, Lady Danbury’s sharp eyes searched for the Bridgerton family. After a few minutes of searching and feeling a sense of defeat, she finally caught sight of the family walking in with the rowdy bickering between the siblings. She smiled excitedly and made her way to where they had stationed themselves and tapped her cane to announce her presence. The entire family whipped their heads around to look at her and when they did so, they all greeted her warmly. It was then did she finally notice yours and Benedict’s absence. She frowned.

“Where exactly are the newlyweds, Lady Bridgerton?” she asked suspiciously. She saw the other woman flash her a sheepish smile before she spoke. “They wrote to us and expressed their wishes to attend the ball. Rest assured, Lady Danbury, they are most likely making their way to where we are at this present moment.”

Lady Danbury supposed that it was a good enough reason for her to excuse.

With an approving hum, she bid her farewell and made her rounds around the room to make sure that everyone was finding everything to their satisfaction.

It had been what she felt to be an hour that had passed since that conversation when she heard from across the room the gentle lilt of your voice. She turned around towards where the voice came from and sure enough, you were standing with your in-laws, Benedict’s arm wrapped possessively around your waist. It took everything within herself to not roll her eyes at the sight as she made her way towards you.

When you saw your mother figure and sponsor, you practically launched yourself into her arms, catching the lady by surprise. Your endearing actions made your in-laws fall more in love with you. You were just as sweet as Benedict, and it was clear to them that you and Benedict were made for each other. They couldn’t wait to see what new mischief the two of you will cause when you visit them again.

After a short conversation with your family, Benedict decided to dismiss the both of you to fetch a glass of punch together. Just as he promised last night, he refused to let you wander away from his side. The family groaned, knowingly familiar with Benedict’s desire to show you off to the whole world. Not wanting to see such sickening displays of affection, the family (well, mostly Eloise and Colin) dismissed him immediately. With a chuckle, the two of you made your way across the room to talk near the refreshment table, greeting the Queen fondly with a polite bow on the way there.

It had only been but a few minutes alone with your husband before a crowd of (rather fake) debutantes cornered you both with an onslaught of shallow compliments and congratulations for your love match and marriage. You felt particularly uncomfortable, as you were still not used to the passive aggressive behavior and damaging gossip that existed in this society. From where you came from, these antics certainly existed, but they were never as consuming as it was here. When Benedict expressed to you that he wanted to settle with you in the countryside, you couldn’t have been more grateful, as you certainly did not want to associate with this society and their stifling judgements about your foreign status.

As they all spoke to you and Benedict at the same time, you noticed a particular head of blonde hair in an updo and froze in fear: Cressida Cowper was here and that could mean trouble.

In a state of panic, you gripped onto your husband’s arm tighter. When he also saw Cressida, he let out an irritated sigh and reached over to rub your arm comfortingly. It was his way of silently communicating with you that what you were about to face, you would do it with him; together as a unit. Your braced yourself for the moment Cressida finally pushed her way towards the front of the crowd with her drink in hand. Of course, she did it quite dramatically, ‘accidentally’ spilling her drink on other debutantes outfits and kicking their shins painfully to make her way through. When she finally reached to the front, she let out a sigh of relief and flashed the most sinister smile you have ever seen anyone make.

“Well, if it isn’t the Bridgertons,” she cooed before leaning back arrogantly. “The famous love match!”

You winced at her words, afraid of what she was about to say. True to your intuition, she loudly drew the attention of a crowd as she spoke.

“It was quite the love story; a story that was similar to Cinderella’s, was it not?” she sneered victoriously. You went rigid in Benedict’s arms while he was losing his usual calm demeanor. Cressida continued to explain to everyone what she was talking about to the room.

“Of course, it would be such a shame for your new husband to know about your lack of rank or blood relation to any noble family in the Ton,” she announced with a haughty laugh. She was so ugly, inside and out, and she was a terrible person to expose your background in front of everybody. You’ve had enough. You didn’t care anymore that she was part of the Ton. Nobody spoke to you that way. Nobody.

“Miss Cowper, I suggest you choose your next words wisely, or—“

“Or what?” She cut you off. “What will you do? You have no rank.” She leaned in threateningly. “I don’t have to listen to poor foreigners like you, Mx. Bridgerton,” she said and practically spat in your face.

A series of gasps echoed throughout the room. Whether it be because of Cressida’s audacity to behave so poorly in a public setting or a reaction to your status, that you would never know. But what you did know was that Cressida was an evil woman who deserved nothing but bad karma.

At the point, your husband was fuming, and it was actually visible to everyone in the room. It was a foreign sight, since everyone usually saw him to possess a light-hearted attitude and an earnest expression. With that knowledge, there was a sudden shift of energy when Benedict wrapped his arm around your waist protectively. Not only was he pissed off by Cressida’s comments about his spouse, but he was furious that she did it in front of everyone in the Ton, including the Queen herself.

Because of that, he allowed himself to break out of his gentle demeanor and throw his manners that were taught to him completely out the window. Nobody messed with his spouse. Ever.

“At least my spouse has married someone, and that certain someone comes with high status and a lack of care for their background.” Your head perked up to stare at him in shock. You have never heard him sound so angry before. Seeing him so angry compelled you to hang onto every word he spoke to Cressida with the belief that he has the ability to counter Cressida’s rude behavior and ruin her reputation in front of everyone in the room.

He tilted his head to the side and smirked, though this one was not his usual playful smirk. No, this time, it was one that sent shivers down the spine of anyone who was witnessing this confrontation. He continued to speak to her.

“How about you, Miss Cowper? I have yet to see you with any suitors, let alone be married to one!” he said in mock curiosity. He laughed dryly. “You have been in the marriage mart without any suitors for the last three seasons now, yes?” 

Her eyes widened in shock. He grinned at her reaction. “What does that say about you and your reputation? I would like for you to enlighten me on that, Miss Cowper.”

He leaned in and mimicked her mocking stance moments earlier towards you before he proceeded to insult her.

“Let me make this clear. I am a gentleman, and I was raised to respect every person I meet. But when it comes to you, I am willing to set aside my upbringing to tell you how I feel.” He practically growled his next sentence. “My family has been aware of my spouse’s background before my marriage to them, and we still accepted them with open arms. The Queen had done so as well. Do you wish to know why?”

Cressida was scared at this point and completely humiliated by the Bridgerton she least expected to lash out at her. It was always the quiet ones that held the most anger, especially if it involved the bullying of a loved one. She watched as he leaned back to stare down at her with eyes filled with the fury and wrath likened to that of gods.

“You will never compare to my spouse. With your outburst tonight, you have managed to make a fool out of yourself in front of the entire Ton and-- most importantly-- Lady Whistledown herself. If you so much as to breathe in my spouse’s direction—or in any of my family’s, I can assure you that you will regret that decision for the rest of your life.”

She gasped and angrily stared him down. “Are you threatening an innocent lady, Mr. Bridgerton? You should feel ashamed. Where are you manners—“

“You aren’t and will never be an innocent or respectable lady in my eyes, nor in anyone’s eyes, from what I can see right now. I want you out of my sight for the rest of the night and the other balls after that. Your family should tread carefully and be grateful that they will not experience the wrath of the Bridgerton family tonight. But you should know,” he paused before pulling you close to his chest.

“That we do not have to do anything to ruin your life. You have done so yourself. You have dug your own grave. Now…lie in it,” he venomously spat out at her.

When he finished his outburst, the chatter of the entire room had been replaced with a tense and heavy silence. Never have they seen Benedict so furious. If Cressida had spoken ill of you for another second after, they were sure to believe that Benedict could’ve actually done something to actually be scared for her and her family’s lives. But with his words tonight, they already knew that it was enough to humble the family that they despised the most, and that was victory enough for them, after all the toxicity they have spread throughout the Ton for many years.

As for his family, they were a bit embarrassed by his confrontation, but they were more proud of him and his public display of love and protection. The Queen must have felt the same way, as she was the first to stand up from her seat. All eyes shifted to her and waited on baited breath to hear what the Queen had to say. She looked down at Cressida from her place on the pedestal and glared at her.

“Get out of my sight,” she declared in an icy tone. The rest of the Ton gasped and started to whisper sensationally with each other. Cressida felt tears form in her eyes at the Queen’s words and tried desperately to defend herself. “Your Majesty, I—“

The Queen’s eyes flared with fury. “Are you going against my orders, child? I am your Queen and you have finally lost all of my respect. Get out of my sight.”

At this point, her mother had run to her side so she could support her daughter. Of course, she was just as irritatingly rude as her daughter. Cressida did have to get it from somewhere.

“I do not understand. Why does everyone support this pathetic, low-life peasant? They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, Your Majesty!” Lady Cowper exclaimed, turning her head to glare accusingly at your timid form.

Hell hath no fury like a mother figure witnessing her child be humiliated in front of her. “Lady Cowper, you are quite fortunate that I do not have you executed for your direct disobedience against your Queen and your questions about my decisions!” She pointed an accusing finger at the Cowpers. “Mr. Bridgerton is right. You are not to step foot into his Ton ever again. So, I will repeat for the third time of what I asked you to do.” Her finger pointed towards the large open doors.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Sight.”

The whispers of gossip became louder at the Queen’s words. At this point, nobody felt bad for the fate of the Cowpers. They finally got what they deserved. As they finally watch the accused party disappear from the ball, everyone assumed back to the lighthearted atmosphere they previously had before. The Queen made eye contact with you and flashed you an affectionate smile. She made a mental note to invite you for tea so she could comfort you. The Bridgerton family across the room had the same sentiments.

Despite everyone defending you, Cressida’s words stung and hurt more than you thought. You didn’t know why you let her words get to you, but perhaps it was because she exposed your secret unfairly to the Ton without any mercy. Finding yourself close to tears, you slipped away from Benedict’s embrace and ran off to call a carriage for yourself so you could go home.

Benedict ran after you immediately, flashing a sad expression to his family and the Queen before he went off to come find you. When he did, he saw that you were waiting outside in the cold with a shawl that covered most of your exposed skin. When he squinted his eyes more, he saw that there were tears that were falling from your eyes and that your eyes were red from crying so much. His heart broke at the sight of your insecurity about his love for you and your place in society, so he decided that he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew how much he loved you with his entire body, mind and soul.

Once you two entered the carriage, you had barely sat down before he immediately pulled you to him as much as could so you were slightly on top of him. He kissed you passionately, his hands delicately rubbing your sides up and down. You let a surprised squeak, but welcomed his passionate actions nonetheless. You always adored Benedict’s very passionate and romantic gestures because it made you feel like a deity incarnate. It was like he worshipped you with his entire being.

You became flustered at his boldness and pulled away to catch your breath. When you did so, he decided to speak while he kissed down your neck. “You are not a Cinderella, (y/n). You are my spouse and the most beautiful creature that God has ever created.”

When he heard your blissful sighs and noises from his kisses, he felt compelled to pull you closer and press your body flush against his chest. He was lucky that there was a barrier of thick clothing, or else he would’ve had his way with you at this very moment. He was that passionate to show you how much he adored you.

“You are my muse, the air I breathe, and the sun to my moon,” he murmured hotly against your flushed skin. You tried your best to quiet down your excitement as he continued to touch your body in a way that flustered you to no end. For a moment, though, he paused his kisses and guided your chin down to stare into your eyes.

“You complete me, my darling. No matter what anyone says, you are perfect for me. You transcend human concepts of perfection and class, as you are the most divine being that rivals the most beautiful of angels,” he said with so much love and adoration for you.

When he saw you tear up from his words, he didn’t hesitate to pull you into a loving embrace, happy to see you feel so comfortable and safe in his presence. You stayed silent, but your actions spoke loudly of your feelings. Each kiss you placed on his face was proud of him for standing up for you and that you were grateful for his endless devotion to you. Most importantly, the lopsided smile you gave to him was your way of letting him know that you were happy that Cressida and the rest of the Ton had tasted the fear that struck into their hearts the moment Benedict decided to confront them all about their pathetic excuses to disapprove of your relationship. After the events that occurred tonight, you knew now that your relationship in the eyes of the public had shifted. They’ve finally accepted what you and Benedict have known all along:

You were his and he was yours. Nobody, not even the Queen herself, could take that away from you both.

If there was one thing the Ton had learned from tonight, it is that Benedict was scary when he was angry. If he felt so passionately about you, then they couldn’t even imagine how you would be when someone tries to disrespect your husband in the future. With that, they realized that your marriage was more than a Cinderella story: it was a love story for the ages, and anyone who thought this wasn’t true would swiftly be reminded by you and Benedict of how wrong they were to think otherwise. They will be reminded about how messing with both of you is like messing with hell itself.

Cressida will know that for the rest of her life, especially after reading the Lady Whistledown issue that was published the next day.

[merakiui]

Hi hi hi Mera!! I wanna share this one idea i had of the SAGAU that I think no one has written/published(?! I really havent seen anyone write this concept before so--)

Its basically where after the Reader is revealed as the true Creator/God, so everyone is begging for forgiveness and crying and begging and some have even instantly turned on the Imposter and attacked them and forced them onto their knees to make them bow before the true God and

Reader just looks at them, repulsed.

For months theyve been hunting them down like a pest, torturing and degrading them, and now just because a little bit of stardust in their blood they're falling over themselves trying to earn their favor and love? And how easily they turned on the Imposter to. At the very least, if they had remained consistent to the end they wouldnt feel so disgusted but no, they really just change at the drop of a hat. Its sickening. These arent the characters they fell in love with- just crazed syncophants in a cult.

So Reader cuts off their prayers and pleading and tells them that they shouldnt apologize. After all, "they" are not their god right? Just a filthy, sinful imposter who dares to wear their face and bear their name, right? And the one they just attacked and forced to the ground is their beloved "Creator", right?

So that Imposter should become the new god of Teyvat.

And as if some ancient, powerful spell had been spoken- Teyvat rumbles. The earth and the skies shake and the stardust in Reader's blood glows bright and hot like a heavenly glow before dimming to a light aura around their body while the Imposter screams. Screams as their body starts to age and wither and drain of life before they collapse to the ground as a barely breathing husk- more corpse than person as everyone becomes frenzied.

Reader disappears then, amongst the frenzied screams from immortals and mortals alike.

The month after the event leaves Teyvat shaken and spiritually broken and scared. The Archons had gotten on their hands and knees and prayed frantically for the Creator to return for an entire week straight, but when their prayers went unanswered they took the body of the false god and took it away somewhere. Some say to desecrate the Imposter, some say to figure out what the Creator's ominous last words meant.

It is exactly six months to the day later that everyone feels the first wave of consequences upon them.

Everyone awakens to a fractured grey sky, like someone had taken a picture of it and shattered it and hung the mismatched pieces to pretend nothing happened. The plants all start to wither as if they have been poorly treated despite the farmers best efforts otherwise. Plagues and pedtilence devastate the animals and meat becomes a luxury so expensive that only the absolute richest of the nation could afford.

The people clamor for answers and in turn the archons look to the oldest amongst them in confusion and desperation, and Zhongli ventures to Celestia for an answer.

The Celestial gates are open, but the heavenly palace is left bereft of anything. Only the God of Heavenly Principles is left, and she too looks weak and wretched. When Zhongli asks for answers, the Heavenly Principles coldly answers:

"Teyvat subsisted off the grace of the Creator. Now that they have abandoned us completely, and the life force of the Imposter has completely run dry, Teyvat will fall into nothing.

If you want this doomed world to continue, then you must sacrifice people in substantial amounts to even match a fraction of the Creator's power for Teyvat to subsist on. Otherwise, we can all face the collapse of this world together. For this is the judgement of the highest of the Heavens, and I will not allow any sinner to escape it."

That became a story at the end im sorry i got too into it asdfgjklakgsha

- - -

:O that’s so interesting!!!! Your concepts never cease to amaze me. They’re always so creative!!

[yostresswritinggirl]

hi! ik sojourner's already ended but i have an(other?) idea in case u ever pick it up since i love ur albedo 😳😳 ok so

what abt a reader who is rlly excited abt alchemy, but they avoid talking abt it bc they start rambling and stuttering and stumbling over their words bc they're so excited? they get assigned/asked to go w/ albedo bc they're rlly good at alchemy too, but they end up fidgeting a lot, muttering and stopping just a few words in before their volume rises and giving short answers when w/ him bc they're afraid of rambling (since they do it to think better when alone, sometimes insulting and arguing w the objects when they don't get the expected result) & being seen as annoying or unprofessional?? i'd like to see how he reacts to these and what he'd think!! and how or when he discovers the reason reader is acting like that

it's kinda (a lot, rlly skowkskdk i always have ideas but never write them) specific, but i rlly like the idea!! i'd love to see what u do w/ it if u ever pick it up in the future :D hope you're staying hydrated and well🥺🥰 -🌌

What do you mean Sojourner's already ended, Sojourner is eternal, Sojourner is forever-

Kidding aside, this is too cute to pass up, even if it's quite a lot! Cute Albedo brainrot moments always please. It might be too much sometimes but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of it! Scenarios format! Starry night, oh I'm always hydrated, thank you and I hope you're well!

For the Record

Albedo working with a Reader that's highly enthusiastic about alchemy but insecure about rambling... (masterlist)

You dealt with Alchemy a year before the Kreideprinz entered Mondstadt, your attunement to the mystic arts baffling and intriguing you every time. During that period, you're not really sure of what art you're doing but in the end, you kept doing great that the people had acknowledged your talents.

Through your own effort and self-study even if unnamed, you managed to put your talent into this art of Alchemy and created discoveries regarding powders and mineral-focused ingredients. It was a shame there was no one to share it to, and when you talk to scholars/practitioners alike, you end up rambling so much to the point that on their end you barely make sense. Whether this was caused by your eaten words or lax and personalized vocabulary over the matter, you're not sure.

Their confused and judgmental stare haunts you, leaving you alone with your raging thoughts and overworking mind when you just want to learn and expand your discoveries to other people without driving them away. Your enthusiasm is great and all, but it's not enough to make others understand.

So when the Chalk Prince entered Mondstadt, blessing the city with his scholarly knowledge and boundless creations, he easily made a name for himself and in extension the city itself.

Before Sucrose and Timaeus, you were called upon by the Grand Master Varka to accompany Albedo and be his temporary assistant seeing as his field in the division is still quite new and you were the only other 'Alchemist' in town besides him. You're both giddy and nervous, like really, really nervous.

You've heard of Albedo and maybe a caught a glimpse or two, but you've never actually interacted enough to know exactly what he looks like or how he is as a person. All you know is that he's a very, very attractive person overall.

"Good-looking, carries this aura of wisdom around him, he's just really charming," were the words that rang through your mind as you pointedly watched your steps, following the carpets leading to Ordo Favonius' laboratory while Lisa's words rang through your head.

Is he really that kind of person? You've heard that he's quite stoic too, but if he's really that distracting, you're scared that it would be harder for you to focus and help out. Honestly how would you even deal with him when your fields of Alchemy are so different from each other?

You have no idea how long you've been thinking, standing in contemplation in front of the set of double doors that leads to the workshop with nothing but doubt in your mind. But upon realizing the teal gaze of another person silently waiting instead of wooden doors, you figured it was far too long.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I was in my head, I wasn't expecting you to-!" You flailed your hands around comically before abruptly stopping, noticing the now confused stare of Albedo of which are distracted by your hands. Clearing your throat, you extended a hand towards him to shake, trying to stare anywhere but his face. "I'm (Y/N), I'll be your assistant until you're well settled in the city. It's nice to meet you, Ma-"

His hand finds yours in a firm grip, a firm shake so sudden you bit your tongue back, "Albedo, Kreideprinz of the Art of Kemia, but just Albedo is fine, I'll be under your care."

Albedo finds it intriguing and surprisingly not that distracting whenever you talk to yourself or to the ingredients whenever you so much as feel the slightest frustration. "Ugh, this Zinc powder is so stubborn, clingy," you angrily mumbled under your breath as you washed off the blue powder that spilled at your hand, "So, so clingy." Since you're facing the sink, you couldn't see the way he was holding himself from laughing audibly at your amusing antics.

You seemed lively and open, is what Albedo thought when he first met you. But this observation soon shattered when he kept getting hanged upon your abrupt stops when delving into your field, something he was really irked about the first few times. Your art of Alchemy is much different from his and he's wishing that you'd clarify and expound all your learnings to him, but in the end, you somehow step back everytime your words became lengthy.

Are you hiding something? Did you not want him to learn the same arts as yours? If those were the case, he couldn't bring himself to ask a simple question such ad why. Every time it crosses his mind, it brings a purse of a pout to his lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Every response you gave always hints even tiny bits of trivias and tips he's never heard, Albedo always takes note of your spills that always cuts before reaching its climax. "-sorry, yes, this is activated charcoal Geo and Pyro slimes reaction." He lets out an audible sigh upon your retreat, your frustrated mind too occupied to notice.

"Please," his desperation drips in his word when he looks at you with eyes filled with raw emotion you'd never know he'd be able to pull off. Your tightly locked lips only pressed on further at his puppy eyes, "Please continue, I wish to know more about your Alchemy, if you would be so kind."

"It's not really- I'm not really the best at explaining it..." You're almost fidgeting, cheeks aching from tensing and warmth. But he regarded you with a blank stare, forcing you to fill the silence, "If I- If I start, my ramblings may not uhm they're not easy to comprehend... or something."

Albedo had been watching more than he'd like to admit, and he's come to relieved (yet still confused) realization that your treatment with him wasn't his alone. You always step back before things get lengthy, words then cutting short and concise with a steeled expression. Lips caught between teeth.

"I digress," his hand motions to yourself to emphasize his next clause. "As your field and sole practitioner of this art, like my own condition, your word of mouth is the best ground of knowledge."

If he was irritated, he's doing a very good job in hiding it. And even with the respectable yet close distance in between you still felt cornered. This is still your master and it's not professional to refuse a scholarly talk, "The electro crystals when charged... ionized? create sparks, while also producing the same result when smacking- mining!"

The scribbles of his pen against his clipboard as he nods in attention urges you on, realizing his focus and sincere interest on the topic, "So when you put the little tidbits or even powdered version in a beaker thingy, depending on the material, they interact with the spark. Honestly, I'm unsure yet how lethal it is but if you put the sparks under fire too, they make like those makeshift gunpowder as well as additional reactions such as-!"

The lilt and proceeding high pitch in your voice usually signifies the approach of your insecurity as well as the climax of your enthusiasm. At this point, you pull your hand up to shut your mouth forcefully, and when Albedo really detests the abrupt end of the conversation his hand would shoot forward to grasp your own.

He'd intertwine your fingers to distract, before urging you to continue with a challenging stare, as if daring you to use your other hand to pull that off again. This whole scene felt oddly scandalous, but oh boy does it send your mind into a bambling, overloaded mess. A heated head forces your lips open even if they sometimes come out in a jumbled string, he learns to decipher them.

The more you get used to or feel more comfortable, Albedo uses that fondness skillfully whenever he wants. "Can you tell me more about the scarlet chunks from Dragonspine?" He throws it so casually in the silence as you two work back to back in your stations, without a beat as your mind is partially preoccupied, you answered into a narrative of trivia. It almost feels like you're talking to the flames of the bunsen while you wait, but Albedo smiles at the now filled silence as he listens with divided attention.

He really likes your voice, and the word of wonders you bring along with you.

"For the record, I don't mind it at all," his breath hovers on your lips, cold and prickly, "Whatever comes out of these lips, I want to hear it all."

That last part eheh

Woah, this went long. Like reader babbling hahaha. I said I'm gonna speedrun, not freaking write this long smh

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe

[collisiondiscourse]

on the wonder duo (part 1)

(BNHA Analysis Post Ahead! This isn’t explicitly romantic, but it is an analysis of the relationship between the two most popular characters in BNHA--Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Split into two posts because I realized that this was gonna be long as HELL)

yall ever think about the fact that the wonder duo is perfectly set up in so that bakugou and deku together are the better version of all might?

bc like. ive been thinking.

everyone knows the win to save and save to win parallel. How they are supposedly two halves of a whole perfect hero (which, previously, was defined as all might)

but ever since bakugou and deku started working as one—growing together to win AND save and continuously reminding each other that they shouldnt try to do things alone, ive realized that its BECAUSE theres two of them that they surpass all might. its not a case of deku and bakugou both being 50% of an ideal hero, but rather i think that they are 100% of what all might SHOULD HAVE BEEN from the very beginning.

as early as the AM v AFO battle in kamino, we see the effects of all mights flawed existence. the fact that he, the greatest and supposedly infallible symbol of peace, was destroyed—society had begun to collapse. there was suddenly no pillar to hold people together and the impacts were so severe that even in the latest chapters of mha it keeps on getting worse. the truth is, all mights biggest mistake was the burden he placed on his own shoulders

with bakugou and deku... its different.

its different for them because down to their attributions, they seem like two halves of a whole person.

i think that the wonder duo are going to surpass all might because of the fact that they work together.

@bakugoukatsuki-rising @svpercraigus @tybee​ @isaustraliaathing​

(batshit crazy and conspiratorial essay under the cut !)

1. Complementary Colors

I’d like to first preface literally everything I say by the fact that I am not an expert analyzer or literary major in any way. I am literally just some random fan on the internet who has wayyy too much time and looks wayyy too deep into things, but here we go!

A common thing we see when we talk about bakugou and deku is the way they are... sort of an inverse of one another.

Down to the design of their features and the way they move, Deku is the obviously softer of the two. There’s an intentional contrast between the two of them, in the way that Deku’s drawn with round shapes and curvy hair and the way Bakugou is literally all spikes and half-mast eyes and rough muscles. Bakugou’s movements too are languid and showy, with the way he leans when he walks and splays his legs and kicks open doors. Katsuki, in a casual sense, is loud and dramatic. 

Deku on the other hand s finicky. He jitters when he walks and he’s often fidgeting and mumbling. Comparatively, the aura he radiates is energetic and frenzied, even self-conscious to a point unlike Bakugou’s calm and confident movements.

the point is, there’s a clear difference in how either of them are designed and what exactly they are supposed to represent. They utterly complement each other down to the way they behave and even their main colors (red-orange and blue-green) being literal complementary colors.

Now, moving to my more ungrounded points, this is quite a bit of a stretch so I’ll try as much as possible to make sense of these with hyperlinked sources because. yeah.

Down to their names, I think Deku and Bakugou both symbolize something deeper. I think that the way Hori expresses characters and what they’re meant to do is something that we have to pay close attention to when we talk about the Wonder Duo’s rise to success.

Izuku Midoriya (緑谷 出久), as some of us may know, does have an interesting meaning when broken up. According to a lovely fan translation of his name, ‘Izuku’--while not an actual name used commonly in real life--means to ‘Come out’ or ‘Long time’. ‘Midoriya’ on the other hand means (Midori) ‘Green’ and (ya) ‘valley’. The translator further pointed out that his first name ‘Izuku’ could be a reference to him being the first legendary hero to come out of the long-running All Might Era. (or, if you’ve been reading @/bakugoukatsuki-rising’s posts, the first significant anime protag in a long while to come out as queer, ppfft)

but that isn’t my focus right now.

We know that Hori LOVES telling stories with names, and more often than not in the BNHA universe, names alone tell us a lot of things about the characters. When referring to Izuku’s last name, Midoriya, it’s important I think to step back and realize that hey, maybe there’s something more to Green Valley than just the fact that his motif is all green.

After searching for a lil on the specifics of green valley, I’ve found out that across many cultures, the colour green and valleys in general tend to represent life. From dream analysts, to Christianity, and even old Taoist teachings, valleys are seen as areas of fertility and escape. They are seen as safe havens and often escapes for people to come to after running away from bad circumstances.

(Sound familiar?)

Deku, in essence represents life and peace. He represents being the “salvation” that the world in BNHA needed. To me, it sounds like Horikoshi is trying to say that he is the long-awaited hero in the sense. The one that people can feel will create a society that feels safe for everyone after years of All Might just saving people from themselves as a band-aid solution.

On the other hand, we have Katsuki Bakugou (爆豪 勝己), who’s name we commonly know means (Katsuki) Winner and (Bakugou) Explosion Master. He is essentially, the champion. The power. His name means success and power and all the things that make up winning.

When putting them side by side, it then becomes increasingly... interesting to me how their names almost perfectly slot into All Might’s save to win and win to save mantra, and how they are both quintessential parts to what made All Might as a hero.

2. Hero Too!

Now, I’m not even gonna really TOUCH much of what happens in canon. If you want me to do a step by step breakdown of their arcs in regards to the plot of manga and anime, feel free to send me a gratuitous ko-fi tip so I can pay for the headache I get after trying to organize my thoughts into word vomit.

What I WILL talk about on the other hand, is the subtle shift both of them slowly have in regards to how they look. Bakugou and Deku, while growing up, seem to have MANY many parallels--but before I elaborate on all of that, I wanna talk about something else.

Detour: Deku’s Red Shoes 

We all know the iconic symbol being Deku’s red shoes. For all his life, save for some outfits like his hero one, we see Deku more often than not wearing his signature red sneakers which have become a running joke in fandom.

But the funny thing is, in Japan, red shoes seem to have an interesting connotation.

In 1922, a popular Japanese nursery rhyme was written, called “Red Shoes”. The interesting part to me about this song was the symbolism that, in my tiny pea-sized brain, I could connect to the story of BNHA.

The story goes that there was a little girl with red shoes named ‘Kimi’. She was from Shizuoka prefecture (which, if you didn’t know, is most likely where Musutafu supposedly is) and was raised by a single mother. When she was young, her mother had to entrust her with a foreigner under the impression that they would give her a better life in America. The stranger is a man named Charles Hewitt (who was described to have blue eyes) and supposedly took her away. 

The singer of the song (supposedly the mother, but some argue it was written from the perspective of a childhood friend) believes that Kimi is happy and living a better life away from them, when the reality of the situation was much worse. The young girl with red shoes in actuality had Tuberculosis, and thus the foreigner whom she was entrusted to had left her to fend for herself and eventually left her to go to America while she died alone and orphaned.

“When I see red shoes, I think of her.”

A very interesting story with very interesting implications indeed.

-

Anyway, moving on to the more... “nuanced” and connected parts of this section, I have every reason to believe that Bakugou and Deku were simply MEANT to be working together down to how they dress. Now, I’d like to discuss their hero costumes.

At the start of their series, using these godawful pics for reference, it’s clear to see that neither of them seem alike in any way--reflecting the dissonance in their relationship at that point in canon.

ough. deku why. (yes we know why its because you love your mom you stupid little bunny <3)

Anyway, we see an immediate gap in how the two of them are. Deku’s first costume is one that reflects how he treated his dream of being a hero. He was still in that childlike idolization phase, the one where his dreams and aspirations were hinged on pure feelings and inspiration from All Might. Katsuki on the other hand was a lot more tactical--professional to an extent. The gap between their respective development with their quirks is something that is clearly felt in every fashion decision they’d made.

(Notice how Deku’s green is a lot brighter and less like the green accents Katsuki has all over his costume.)

As time progressed however... their costumes changed. The colors, the silhouettes, the practical functions, most things.

(Deku’s Gamma Costume and Bakugou’s Winter Costume used respectively)

we begin to notice a few similarities.

As the show goes on and we see more evolutions of their costumes, it almost seems like they begin to look like a matching pair. Deku’s green grows darker and almost teal in nature, while Bakugou’s orange is veering towards red territory. This is important to note because red-orange and blue-green as I said earlier were complementary colors as compared to simply orange and green. The minute shift is something I really wasn’t quite sure was intentional, but something I find interesting to pick up nonetheless as the colors they used to accent their costumes begin to match up.

Secondly, I think and important thing to note is silhouettes. The way that both Bakugou and Deku’s costumes are designed follow a lot of parallels that typically we don’t see with the rest of 1-A. For one, they both have a combination of tight long-sleeved tops with a bulkier set of bottoms. They also share the use of utility belts and metal pieces typically worn around their necks. Deku has his bunny-eared hood that mimics All Might’s hair, while Bakugou has his orange and black explosion ear-pieces that mimic his own quirk.

i don’t think any other people in class 1-A match each other as subtly yet strongly as these two. Uraraka and Deku and Bakugou and Kirishima do come close however.

“But Codi, you fucking knob!” I hear you plea. “This is such a reach and tells us practically NOTHING!” And yes, I’m inclined to agree with you! You’d be sort of right in the idea that this is a reach. Maybe I am looking too much into this, and maybe it really isn’t that deep--but I do think that them subconsciously matching outfits means something quite brilliant.

In the way that their costumes are designed, each aspect of either outfits have a very logical explanation. The changes were strategic and made with their fighting styles vividly in mind, so what that tells me is that BECAUSE these costumes are so complementary or similar in nature (Bakugou’s reinforcing his arms while Deku reinforces his legs), these two are implicitly showing the audience that their combat styles are complementary as well. 

The evolution of their design choices and similarities tell us that even unknowingly, their minds line up in strategy on the battlefield--a clear exhibit for why they would be INCREDIBLY POWERFUL as a Hero Duo to begin with.

When I look at their hero costumes side by side, I see a mirror. I see the way that these two are reflections of each other and are strong where the other isn’t. The point I see in BNHA repeatedly is that EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS. Nothing is infallible, regardless of how hard you train or how powerful your quirk is. Everyone will always have a weakness, but the significant difference I see when fandom discusses the future of Pro-Hero Society is that the new generation is finally raising itself to be RELIANT on each other. 

Observing their fighting styles and the simple use of their quirks, its obvious that they are indeed two parts of a whole hero. Bakugou, who’s quirk emphasized his arms and hands and the power that comes from it, while Deku who’s quirk now emphasizes his legs and lower body and the way he’s always running to save people.

IN CONCLUSION:

As they become heroes, it is easy to assume that if nothing else, Bakugou and Deku will cover each other’s weak spots (especially when you consider the way Deku probably won’t be able to keep using his arms with the way both the anime and manga are going...) (also chapter 285, anyone?)

-

Part Two: Interactions, OfA

kofi || commission details

[shirtlessfelix]

Hi there. I don't quite remember if my internet sent this ask, so I'm repeating it just in case! In honor of my gaming life being a mishmash of dbd, the Prototype games and finally obtaining the DVD of the 2010 nightmare on elm street remake, can I request a fluffy hurt/comfort scenario, where a hivemind killer is inducting Quentin into their hivemind? Bonus points if Quentin is happy and sleepy while it happens. I watched the movie not too long ago, and Quentin definitely carried the entire thing. Nancy don't deserve a good boi like him. Thank you kindly for your time, and may the muse always strike you with inspiration. Toodles!!

Here it is! I hope you like it after it's been so long since you sent this in lol, I'm very sorry for the wait!!! I appreciate your patience more than you know 💕💕💕💕

Quentin Soothes the Hive Mind

1004 words

There was something different about Quentin that the other survivors just didn't carry. Something about his demeanor, his aura even to the killers. They pitied him terribly; he was strong for a boy whose monster was dragged down with him and still threatened the corners of his mind in the safety of their camp. Quentin was so tired, so bored of it all. There were very few times when they saw him in a good mood.

One of those few times was when he was with Jake, both barely getting out alive as the hatch sucked them through with only seconds to spare. He howled with laughter so it echoed through the trees, a wave of sound that reached the killers' ears, so unfamiliar that they didn't know whose it was at first.

It was the Hive Mind who told them, Quentin Smith, and none of them believed it at first. But then the Executioner saw him smiling as he ran with Yunjin in the distance after a riveting find, and he told the others that it was telling the truth.

The Hive Mind wasn't a traditional killer by any means. In fact, it was more of an experiment from the Entity to find out how something like it would react in Her world. It had no physical body, nor did it move, but it hung over the air in a thick cloud of static and waited for the survivors to let their guards down. That's when it attacked.

The trend of Quentin's uplifted mood continued as he let himself get closer to the other survivors, distracted from his fears and allowing himself that little bit of freedom. Trials became more fun than a burden, although Freddy Krueger was still a killer he loathed. In all, he learned to enjoy the little things, especially when he had control.

But the Hive Mind didn't like the survivors to have control, and it didn't take the learning curve very well. That on top of hearing about everyone's pasts—survivors and killers alike—made it a raging mass, anguished and furious, so much so that it went past its own limits.

The Hive Mind was naturally self-destructive; if it failed to slip into a survivor's mind, it would bounce right back onto itself. Some trials in, it was already so tired and burnt out that it gave up entirely and opted for a different approach.

Quentin sat at the campfire, having a rest after a number of long, tiring trials, enjoying the warmth under his blanket, when he started to hear something. Voices all around him, screaming and sobbing, yelling, running hoarse, and he was confused and terrified. The camp faded into a cloud of white, not like the black fog of the Entity's doing. This was something else, but he didn't know what until it consumed him completely.

The voices grew louder, but Quentin wasn't afraid. He wanted to help them. Why are you so sad? It wasn't like he didn't know that sadness, that hopelessness of being in the fog without any knowledge of how or get out, or if it was even possible. The Hive Mind had felt much the same way, and it showed in the way it cried and cried, seeking Quentin's newfound happiness for some peace of mind.

"Hello?" Quentin called out, muffled by the voices. "If you're out there, I can't see you!"

A vague shape then revealed itself, reminiscent of the Wraith, but it was smaller and much more opaque. The cloud had formed a person of its own, something for Quentin to see and feel like he could talk to. It cried with the voices, and he hesitated for a moment before walking closer to it, letting his hands touch the transition between air and matter. It clung to him, desperate for a friend, vowing never to hurt Quentin if he just didn't run away.

"You're okay," Quentin said to it, still drowned out by the misery that surrounded him. "It's okay... none of us like it here. You're not the only one." He continued to speak softly to it, trying to comfort the Hive Mind in its extreme distress. After some time, he noticed that his voice was louder, or were the voices getting quieter?

"It gets easier," he said, "you'll get the hang of it. Most of us get along, really... I like you so far." More time, more soothing words, and the voices had died down entirely. The cloudy mass had enveloped Quentin in its own sort of embrace, cool but comfortable around his skin and up under his arms. "It's okay. You're okay."

And they stand together in the middle of the blinding white, voices silent and a quiet static replacing it. It was low. It was relaxing it. The Hive Mind had settled down.

Before he knew it, the cloud had dispersed in his hands, vaporizing into the thin air of the camp again as the last of it disappeared over the campfire. Quentin's eyes opened (had they been closed the whole time?), and he realized that most of the others had been pulled into trials.

He supposed the Hive Mind helped him dodge a bullet. A hatchet, a spear gun perhaps. He was grateful to it.

And the Hive Mind lingered above the killers' heads, who at first were angry and fed up with their trials regardless of the outcome. Bubba Sawyer wasn't happy even after killing all four. The Doctor's check-ups didn't go to plan. The Twins wanted more souls for Victor to consume.

But the Hive Mind had managed to squeeze itself into their minds just like it did Quentin's, soothing them one by one, replacing their thoughts with the static until they all calmed down. They wondered what it was that came over them all, but the Entity knew exactly what it was.

She decided to keep her experiment if it kept them from killing each other.

As for Quentin, he would welcome the Hive Mind into his own any day.

[minijenn]

Keys to the Kingdom Preview

So I'm having... a fucking week. Between the Smash reveal and a number of other IRL things, focusing on this chapter has been a bit... tricky. But here's a bit of what I've managed to write so far, enjoy more of Sora interacting with the Mystery Twins idk why but these interactions are really easy and really fun to write ahahah ^_^

***

“Ok,” he says, much to the twins’ shared relief. “I… guess I can make some time to stick with you guys a little while longer.” A little while longer before he can give the heirloom back to Bill, before he can get the reward he so desperately craves. Before he can finally be free.

And really, after waiting this long for that freedom, certainly he can afford to wait just a little bit more.

“Thanks, Sora!” Mabel exclaims warmly, bounding ahead to join her brother. “See, Dipper?” she whispers to him, aside. “I told you we could trust him!”

“Seeing as how he’s the only person we know who can actually get rid of those monsters, it's not like we really have too much of a choice…” Dipper says, though he wears a smile all the same. “But… I guess you weren’t wrong. This time, anyway.”

Sora swallows hard when he happens to overhear this, the sizable knot of guilt already settled in his stomach tightening to an almost oppressive degree. Whatever trust either of the twins might have for something is something he knows he hasn’t earned, something he definitely doesn’t deserve after what he’s just done. As he trails a few paces behind them, his hand drifts down to his pocket, to the heirloom, to reveal his crimes and come clean like he knows he should. And yet… at the same time, he knows he can’t. Not when this is perhaps the last and only chance he has at turning the tide, at undoing what’s been done, at saving his own life. Certainly, if Dipper and Mabel knew just what he’s up against, if they knew everything he’s already lost and still stands to lose, then they’d understand the lengths he’s taking to finally stop it all… wouldn’t they?

“Hey, Sora?” Mabel pipes up, pulling out of his fretful thoughts as they venture back into the woods. The dark path ahead is only sparsely illuminated by the flashlight Dipper had grabbed back at the shack, though that light does little to chase away the oddly ominous aura the forest carries at night. Or at least, an aura that’s even more ominous than the one that had filled it during the day. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for awhile now: what’s that Key thing that Xamnams guy wants you to get so badly?”

“Oh yeah, I was wondering about that too,” Dipper glances back at the older boy. “Is it the same key you fought those monsters with, or is it something different?”

“Oh, um, yeah, it’s different,” Sora nods, more than happy for the distraction this kind of conversation can serve his troubled mind. “It’s a special kind of Key that’s one out of thirteen that my--I-I mean his master has been looking for. And if they get their hands on it first… let’s just say something really… bad could happen.”

“Wait, so that guy isn’t actually your boss?” Mabel asks.

No, of course he’s not, Sora thinks, though the words refuse to leave his mouth. A small burst of pain constricts around his heart, one that feels far too familiar to the point that he doesn’t even think twice about where it could be coming from. That same pain bars him from saying what he really wants to, though this time, it doesn’t force him to say something else against his will. What he’s able to get out instead is still far from anything substantial though. “Uh… w-well, he’s my… I-I, uh… It’s-”

“Let me guess,” Dipper cuts in knowingly. “It’s something else that’s ‘complicated’, isn’t it?”

The most Sora can do is nod, rubbing his arm as he apprehensively glances away from the twins. Mabel’s quick to fill in the newfound silence, however, with a small coo of curious fascination. “Ooo, Sora, you’re such a complex guy!” she grins, a smile that turns a touch coy as she twirls a lock of her hair playfully. “Ya know I’ve always had a thing for men of mystery.”

Naturally, Sora still isn’t quite sure of how to respond to the younger girl’s persistent brand of “unique” flirting. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to as Dipper dryly interrupts. “What, you mean like that ‘mysterious’ guy you dated who turned out to be a bunch of gnomes stacked on top of each other?” he asks, flashing his sister a bit of a teasing smirk.

“Yeesh, I accidentally go out with some creepy gnomes one time and suddenly I never hear the end of it,” Mabel huffs, rolling her eyes. “At least I didn’t spend the entire summer desperately crushing on someone who’s waaaay too old for me.”

“Says the girl who’s literally doing that right now,” Dipper retorts, catching Mabel in the middle of the affectionate wave she’s sending Sora’s way.

“...And your point is?”

As the twins’ next round of insincere bickering kicks off, Sora does his best to try and focus on it, only for his thoughts to drift internally once more. As far as he knows, Xemnas, or any other Organization member for that matter, isn’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity, so how does their power still have such a restrictive hold on him, to the point that he can’t even speak freely? Has he really fallen so far under their sway that he can be forced to do their bidding from a distance? Does he really have so little freedom left that he’s bound to obey them even when not a single one of them is around?

It’s a grim, downright horrifying thought, a reality he knows he ultimately can’t escape from, at least not on his own. He draws in a steadying breath as he gently pats the pocket the glass globe is resting in, shuddering as he feels another wave of its palpable power wash over him. Regardless of whatever it is that globe actually holds, right now, it also holds all of his once-faded hopes, his nearly-dead dreams, his last chance at living the life he longs to lead instead of the life that’s fallen apart all around him. And all it’ll take for him to finally get that life is to take that globe back to its rightful owner, to give it back to Bill so that Bill can give him back everything he’s lost in return.

So that’s exactly what he’ll do. No matter how uncertain his mind and heart alike still are of whether or not he should.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 4]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“there’ll be a next time...right?“

Corpse and Cora have found a nice secluded picnic table outside the restaurant, out in the sun rays’ path enough for the warmth of the day to be caressing their skin while simultaneously being a safe distance away from the other people enjoying their lunch. Their meal has just arrived, bringing a large grin to Cora’s face.

“So?” She asks as she chews the bite she took without waiting even thirty seconds. Her feet are on the bench, legs crossed, elbows rested on her knees as she chomps down, happily perched in front of him.

Corpse is enraptured by her. He’s staring a little, desperately trying to keep it subtle, hands still holding the small bag of food as he peers at her, a hood over his dark curls. Even in this quiet little part of town, he still doesn’t feel safe showing his whole face - no mask, no eyepatch, no privacy and sense of security. But as his eyes take in his lunch partner, her calm aura and leisure attitude, he can’t help but admit that his heart quickens a little. The girl moves with the grace of someone not afraid to kick ass and he is simply awestruck by her beauty and outward powerful aura. He’s never before been so captivated by a person - someone so different and so similar to him simultaneously.

Swallowing nervously, he reminds himself that she has taken on the role of his checkpoint, something like a friend, a hand to hold if he starts feeling anxious. Even if it’s just for today, he appreciates it wholeheartedly. It’s more than he’s ever been offered by others. That type of comfort is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Surprising himself when his hand reaches out to touch her free one, he’s surprised yet again when he finds the touch so familiar and welcoming, so natural.  Despite it being just a brief movement, his knuckles softly brushing against her wrist before withdrawing and returning his focus to his meal, it is so meaningful and soothing, he’s afraid he might get used to it. Addicted to it. 

Half expecting a comment or a look, he is taken aback when she doesn’t give any sort of reaction. No movement, no expression change, just curiously watching him while she eats, waiting for his response to her previous dubious question.

 “So?” He rumbles softly, fishing out his lunch from the confines of the little paper bag. He isn’t sure what type of answer he should be expecting but he’s sure he won’t be disappointed regardless.

“Tell me about yourself! You’re not all rumbles, fear and BONES, right? You’ve gotta have a personality under that black hoodie.” She says enthusiastically, her eyes glimmering as though she’ll dig the answers out of him with her gaze alone. He’s not sure whether he’d prefer that or not. He doesn’t like talking about himself but he has an even stronger distaste for the idea of her seeing some information he’d rather keep hidden. Good thing she doesn’t seem to be capable of telepathy, but even that wouldn’t be too odd for her.

His cheeks flush faintly and he looks down for a moment to take the first bite of his food, buying himself some time to think and formulate a proper sentence. He racks his brain, looking for what would be the most vague yet satisfactory answer. 

What am I? I mean, all she stated is true, I definitely am all that...but I have a hard time coming up with what else I am? What else makes me me?  Youtube? Anxiety? Suicidal ideations hidden underneath liquor?

“I um...dropped out of school at, like, thirteen.” He finally speaks, mumbling around the small bite he worked on swallowing. 

Cora’s eyes widen and her brows shoot up. Now he is nervous, his anxiety slowly starting to creep in as he’s worrying if he has said something wrong. Or something that she could be disgusted by. 

Who would want to talk to some grown ass man who couldn’t even make it to highschool? How fucking sad is that? She has all right to judge me for it. 

However, unlike everybody else in his life who’s given him a frown of pity while internally thinking of how absolutely fucked up he had to be to drop out so young, Cora spared him from the pitiful glance he has grown to hate so much. Instead, he sees something alike amazement on her face as she sips her drink before saying:

“Damn dude, that’s intense. I mean, it sucks cause I can’t imagine you had a normal childhood if you’re bailing from school that young but, nowadays, who among us actually had a real childhood? Very few, I’d say.” She grins, putting down the soda can, her eyes leaving his for only the briefest of moments instead of the familiar awkward eye-contact avoidance he’d face when this topic would be nudged during a conversation. Still, the relief and skepticism in Corpse can never end their war so easily - there’s still that shred of doubt that she’s just good at hiding her pity or judgement. Nevertheless, she continues, “You’re doing well for yourself, you’re in an ok place right now, right? Isn’t that what matters?.” She concludes, touching his fingers as a form of yet another subtle reassurance. 

He looks down and finds himself ever so carefully curling one of his fingers around hers, just briefly before he draws back fearfully. “Yeah...guess having an apartment in a shitty part of town, and a car that seems to attract criminals could be considered ‘doing okay’.” He smiles faintly under his hood and she laughs, that bubbly little noise that he is slowly realizing he wants to hear more of. 

“You got a car, that’s more than I have.” Cora pokes her tongue out with a little growl before leaning down to take another bite of her lunch. “So, you like music and aren’t a narc. What else you got up your sleeve?”

Corpse smiles a bit and takes a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I like video games too.” 

That seems innocent enough, right? Everyone likes video games...or people tend to be okay with them, at least. Video games are fun.

Another bright, sun-like smile. “Yeah? Well in that case I’ll have to kick your ass in Mario Kart some time.” She threatens playfully. 

So she might want to hang out, he thinks to himself, the thought causing his heart to do a little flip and he smiles an almost shy and timid smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

“What do you do for work?”

That question catches him off-guard, causing his eyes to widen a bit. He doesn’t know if it would be better to lie or just tell the truth. He narrates stories on the internet and makes and puts out music people have constantly been telling him wouldn’t be enjoyed. He doesn’t see how that would leave a bad taste in her mouth exactly but because of his inability to stop himself from overthinking he doesn’t want to run the risk of repulsing her. Then again, he doesn’t want to lie either, he’s been so honest with her thus far, why would he derail now and because of such a simple question. That’s why he chooses to answer truthfully but keep his answer relatively vague: “I do online work and make music I haven’t released yet. I honestly dunno if I ever will.” That last part felt like a harsh hit of reality coming on too suddenly, forcing him to look away from her to gather his composure and put it back together.

“I bet it’s good. You’ll have to let me hear it when you get something done. I’ve got a clearly refined taste in music, but I bet you already figured that out.” She exaggerates a wink, reaching over to wiggle the straw in her drink. 

Feeling a bit less tense now, he clears his throat and picks up the conversation once again. “What about you? You keep asking me all these questions, but all I know about you is that you’re a klepto with no car.” 

That signature bright and bubbly laughter leaves Cora’s chest, sending Corpse a millisecond away from swooning over her completely. “I’m actually a starving artist. I’m a pet photographer and I'm going back to school for advertising graphic design. When I’m not off goofing around with people getting their dogs birthday documented, I’m working at ye good ol’ Starbucks, serving all the...” Her voice lifts to a higher pitch and is now coming more from the back of her throat as she takes on the most preppy tone she could muster, “Beckys their venti mocha caramel frappuccino with TWO extra pumps of caramel, but with SOY because they’re all on a diet. Funny how that works, no? All those women with the exact same order and exact same attributes - I almost laugh whenever one of them walks in. You can smell them from a block away.” 

Corpse chokes out a laugh as he covers his mouth, hiding his half chewed bite from view. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. Then again,  he can’t help but acknowledge the warmth that has spread across his cheeks at how she giggles along with him. “And to be fair,” Cora quickly interrupts herself, “I am not a klepto, I just really liked the belt I found and thought forty five dollars was a rip off.” She smirks, finding herself absentmindedly looping her pinky with his. Corpse doesn’t look down, doesn’t comment, doesn’t want her to know he noticed, because maybe she’d put an end to their so small yet so meaningful contact. Instead, he smiles a little and swallows the last bite of his lunch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he briefly entertains the idea that he maybe wasn’t the only one awestruck. 

Anyhow, that thought gets pushed down real quick when he considers how absolutely out of his league she is, and how...well, how he’s in absolutely no league whatsoever. The world has done plenty to prove that to him real fast. Corpse sees himself as a nobody; he believes he doesn’t matter and everybody likes to remind him of it. But, as Cora’s pinky curls a little and one of her thumbs brushes against the arch of his wrist, all that bitter venom in his cold soul starts to slowly ease up, loosening its typically firm hold of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would matter to someone. Someday.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

[honyakuninakunaru]

A Whimsical Snowdome // Mithra SSR Card Story

CHAPTER 1

(Snow Market)

Akira: "Alrighty... And with that, we've gotten presents for everyone back at the manor. It was hard to decide since there are a lot of unique things here at the Snow Market."

Chloe: "Right? I completely lost track of time while looking for this many souvenirs. By the way, are you hungry, Master Sage? Just now, I saw a stand that looked like they have some delicious meat. It's clo—"

Mithra: "They have meat, you say?"

Chloe: "Ah!"

Akira: "Oh, hi, Mithra. Are you perhaps hungry as well?"

Mithra: "Yes. So, where is that stand?"

Chloe: "Ah, um... It's the one right there, with the blue sign..."

(Sounds of footsteps)

As Chloe modestly pointed in the booth's direction, Mithra languidly made his way towards it. When he did, Chloe breathed out in relief.

Chloe: "Sigh..."

Akira: "Something the matter, Chloe?"

Chloe: "Well, Mithra's a northern wizard, and he's quite strong, so I'm a little scared, you see... Of course, I'd like to get along with him better, but..."

Akira: "I see... He does have the presence of someone with power, or rather, a unique aura."

I looked at the stands and saw Mithra, who was just sinking his teeth into the freshly obtained goods. The gesture of licking his long, sticky with overflowing sauce finger held sex appeal capable of overwhelming others, even those of a coarser nature.

Chloe: "....."

Mithra: "What? Do you two want some? I'm not sharing, you know."

Chloe: "Ah, no, no! I was thinking of giving you my handkerchief if you'd like to use it... But, uhm, my luggage's too much, I can't take it out."

Mithra: "Is that so. You are carrying a lot of bags, though."

Chloe: "These are the presents Master Sage and I chose for the others."

Akira: "I'm indebted to everyone for always taking care of me, so I have to get them something. Aren't you going to give anyone a gift too, Mithra?"

Mithra: "No. While it's true that occasionally, humans would give us tributes, the opposite isn't a thing. Is there even a difference between a tribute and a present?"

Chloe: "Eh!? A difference, huh... W-well, a present could be something that's filled with your feelings of gratitude? ...Ah, I found the handkerchief! Here you are."

Mithra: "Thank you."

Akira: "Psst, Chloe, Chloe!"

Chloe: "Hm? Why are you whispering, Master Sage...?"

Akira: "Looks like you were able to talk with Mithra very naturally just now. Isn't this your chance at getting a little closer?"

Chloe: "N-now that you mention it, I wasn't as nervous as before. The way things are, we should try and invite him to go around the market together..."

Mithra: "What are you two whispering over there? Oh well, not like I care much."

(Sound of footsteps)

Chloe: "Ah! Mithra, wait up!"

CHAPTER 2

Mithra continued to walk past the lively stalls without paying them any attention. His stop was a shop with a stylish feel and a line up of brightly coloured candy.

Bunny Bartender: "Welcome! What kind of candy would you like?"

Mithra: "Those blue ones."

Chloe: "Waah, they're so pretty...!"

Mithra: "Oh, you followed me. Did you two get thirsty as well?"

Akira: "No, not exactly... Never mind that, isn't this a candy store?"

Bunny Bartender: "Our shop’s service is to make cocktails using the candy picked by the customers. You can choose alcohol ones, too."

Akira: ("Cocktails from...candy? I can't imagine that at all...")

Akira: "Um, can I order as well?"

Mithra: "Go on. It's not like I'm the one making them."

Chloe: "I-I'd like one, too! There are so many to choose from, though..."

Akira: "I get you... All of them are so pretty. Which are the non-alcoholic ones..."

Mithra: "Chloe should go with the red one, and you with the purple one."

Akira and Chloe: "Huh?"

Mithra: "My drink is never going to come if you two keep on choosing forever, you know."

———

Bunny Bartender: "Pardon the delay."

A mysterious looking liquid was poured inside a tall glass. Its purple jewels were sparkling and shining as if being melted, making it look like a real piece of art.

Akira: "It's so tasty...! It tastes mild and grape-y!"

Chloe: "And this one is apple-flavoured! It has just the right amount of sweetness and sourness! I'm really liking this! Thank you for choosing them for us, Mithra."

Mithra: "Good thing that I was here, truly."

Akira: "I never noticed this shop because it's so far at the back. I want to bring the others here too... Right! Should I get them these as a present as well?"

Mithra: "More presents? Really? Well, even if you wanted to, you can't make a cocktail with them if you don't have the magic recipe. You'll be bringing back normal candy."

Akira: "That's fine too. I can tell them about this store over some candy-eating."

Chloe: "I think I'll do the same! Shylock might get happy if I get some for him."

Mithra: "..... Can anything be a present? Like a skull or a even poisonous plant?"

Chloe: "W-well... If it's going to make the other person happy...?"

Mithra: "I see."

Akira: "Speaking of, this store has a more intimate feel to it, unlike the other stalls that are rather public. There must be some unusual stuff here... Ah, this...!"

CHAPTER 3

What caught my eye was an array of snow globes. The snow inside them was swirling while a charming, cat-shaped dolls in the middle spun in a dance.

Mithra: "Have you taken a liking to this?"

Akira: "Yes, it's so pretty! There are so many to choose from... Ah, doesn't the cat inside this one look like you, Mithra?"

Chloe: "You're right! Its fur is the same dark red colour as your hair."

Mithra: "How rude can the two of you be. I'm nothing like this hairy ball. And if it's all because of the red hair, then you're the same, no?"

Chloe: "Ah! G-guess you're right! But my hair's a bit curlier compared to yours..."

Mithra: "On the other hand, doesn’t this black one remind you of Oz?"

Akira: "Of Oz...? When you say it like that..."

Mithra: "Here, look closer. It has a sore expression and isn't cute at all, just like that man."

Akira and Chloe: ("Um, not that I agree...")

Mithra: "Oh, right. Why don't we trap Oz inside this? We can just leave him there to dance with his cat look-alike. I can cast a spell on it and offer it to him as a gift. You said that a present can be anything, as long as it makes the other party happy, right?"

Chloe: "W-wait just a minute! I'm not sure Master Oz would be happy to receive something like this..."

——— (In front of the Christmas tree)

Chloe: "Wah, time flies so fast when you're enjoying yourself... The Snow Market is so fun."

Akira: "I'm glad I was able to go around it with you two. We've made some good memories."

Mithra: "...Right. Master Sage, give me your hand."

Mithra plopped something in my hand with a troubled expression.

Akira: "Ah, this is the snow globe we saw earlier...!"

Chloe: "D-don't tell me you really plan on cursing Master Oz with this..."

Mithra: "Excuse me? Look closely. It's me who's inside."

Akira and Chloe: "Eh...?"

Peering into the snow globe that rested on the palm of my hand, I saw the dark red-furred cat we compared to Mithra, dancing amidst the falling snow.

Mithra: "I'm giving it to you since you looked like you wanted it."

Akira and Chloe: ".....S...co..."

Mithra: "Huh? What mosquito...?"

Akira and Chloe: "So~ co~ol!"

Mithra: "So~ noisy... Please don't yell all of a sudden."

Akira: "Thank you so much, Mithra...! I'm so happy! I will take good care of it!"

Chloe: "Your present was a success, how good is that, Mithra!"

Mithra: "I guess you're right. Well, anything given to you by me is of the highest value. Feel free to thank me to your heart's content."

Big thanks to @/_Zeotrope_ on Twitter for providing the raws for this story!

[ezrasarm]

take what’s broken, make it whole

[ day 4 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Marcus Pike x reader

summary: Love. It’s messy and confusing. It’s painful yet thrilling. It’s also absolutely terrifying. But maybe what you need is someone to brave your fears with you.

warnings: mild angst, hurt/comfort, fear of commitment/relationships

"a/n”: THIS WAS WRITTEN BY THE WICKEDLY TALENTED @chaotic-noceur!!! I am posting it here with permission from the original author. Please go check out her posts and give them some love!

Actual a/n: this piece hits very close to home for all 3 of us so we hope it could bring you the same sort of comfort that it did us 💕💕- @chaotic-noceur

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin and @ezrasarm for beta reading and being absolute sweethearts about me being a disaster! very loose references to Come Home With Me from Hadestown. - @chaotic-noceur

Gif by @pedropascalito

The whispers of Special Agent Marcus Pike’s failed love affairs had spread like wildfire as soon as his transfer had been confirmed. Men and women alike were eager to meet the broken man who had fallen too hard, too fast. Instead, they were met with gentle smiles and a loving heart.

If the rumours were true, they did nothing to explain the hidden glimmer of hope in his eyes. If the office gossip held any weight, it did nothing to explain the deep-seated warmth in his aura. If the hearsay was anything more than it claimed to be, it did everything to explain the masked sadness that threatened his every move.

He wasn’t like any man you’ve met. You watched him with quiet curiosity.

Several weeks later, you had found yourself partnered with the office enigma. Within a month, the pair of you had fallen into a comfortable routine of early morning coffee trips and late-night takeout meals.

There was something about him that made you want to let down your guard, to unveil the parts of you that were fractured and broken. But he didn’t need to know of the pieces of you that weren’t quite whole.

So you lie.

You lie when he asks the difficult questions. You lie when he nudges at the splintered fragments. You lie as you have been trained to do all those years ago.

Your little traditions, if you could even call them that, had slowly wound their way into becoming an integral part of your day. You hadn’t even realised just how habitual they had become until he’d left for an undercover mission.

In the early days of his departure, you’d catch yourself flicking through delivery menus before remembering that your partner wasn’t there. You’d find yourself instinctively making the turn to his apartment on your way to work. You’d send him messages of things he’d find funny only to be met with a mocking grey tick.

You missed him. And you couldn’t explain why.

●●●●

This wasn’t his first undercover mission, but this one felt different… and he couldn’t explain why.

As the mission progressed, the desire to call you and talk to you about everything and nothing grew with every passing day. He’d catch himself longing for your occasional Starbucks trips where you’d conspire about the poorly spelt names on your cups. He’d find himself missing the way you’d laugh at all his jokes, no matter how bad. He saw your face in the crowd of strangers even though he knew you weren’t there.

He missed you. And he couldn’t explain why.

When he’s reunited with you once again, he thinks he’s figured it out. The more time the two of you spend together, the more he's convinced that there's something between the two of you. He’s hesitant to put a label on it, after everything he’s been through. Still, he knows it isn’t nothing. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before and he wants to pursue it. But he needs his instincts to be right this time. He’s not ready to face the alternative.

So, he pushes his feelings away. He shoves them into the darkest corners of his mind where its destructive claws can shred them like they had his dreams.

Months go by before thoughts of his feelings for you resurface. He catches you doodling on a napkin with the straw from your drink and he can’t help but fall. Deep down, he knows that it’s a bad idea, but there’s an affectionate lilt to your smile that makes his heart falter and he knows he’s in trouble.

You’re stowing pieces of evidence into their respective locations when he’s overcome with an overwhelming urge to tell you how he feels. He isn’t sure if it's the lack of sleep or the residual successful-arrest adrenaline that makes him throw caution to the wind, but he pops the question before his sudden spur of confidence leaves him. Your shoulders tense as you turn to look at him, eyebrows raised in shock.

“I-what?” you stammered, uncertain if you’d misheard him.

“I asked if you’d like to get dinner sometime?” He feels his heart hammering against his chest. “If you don’t want to, it’s cool, we’re cool.” He raises his arms in defence. “But what we have-” he takes a step closer as he gestures to the space between you, “this feels...different.” He lets his arms fall and he crosses his fingers behind his back.

He doesn’t consider himself a religious man. But in the here and now, he’s praying to anything out there listening that the answer he gets is a yes.

Your breath hitches at his sudden outburst. The wishful twinge in his voice and hopeful glimmer in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. It baffles you that a man with his experience was still so willing to wear his heart on his sleeve. You almost admire that about him. Almost.

“That’s- I-” you clear your throat awkwardly as you search for the right words. “I’m flattered Marcus, but I’m not really looking for anything right now.” Your voice grows quieter with each word, as though the strength of your voice would lessen the force of your words.

You watch in silent agony as the corners of his eyes dip downwards at the rejection. The way he forces a smile to hide the wave of disappointment that crashes into him makes your stomach churn. It takes all your self-control not to reach out for him, to take back your words and spare him the pain. But you can’t do that to him. You can’t give him false hope for a future you don’t want.

For as long as you’ve known him, he’s never shied away from questions about his past. He’d told you about his failed marriage, the broken engagement and everything in between. He’d told you about the life he had wanted and the future he’d pictured. It was the fairytale life that every child dreamt of having.

Every child except you.

You don’t know what exactly it is that you want, but you know one thing. Marriage? Starting a family? That's not you. It never has been and it never will be. The future that Marcus so desperately wants, the happily-ever-after that he’s risked so much for… it’s never going to be something you can give him.

So you push him away. You push him away even when every fibre of your body screams for you to pull him close, to take the pain away. You push him away because he deserves someone who can make all his dreams come true. Someone who isn’t broken like you...

“I’m sorry. You’re a great guy Marcus and I’m sure-” You take a hesitant step towards him but stop in your tracks when he withdraws from you.

“No, no. Don’t be. It’s fine. Like I said, we’re cool. I- I understand.” And he does. He understands perfectly well. He understands that sometimes he comes off a little too strong, but it’s only because he wants to believe in true love. He understands that it’s wishful to think that he deserves another chance at love, that there is such a thing as soulmates. He understands that no matter how hard he tries, he never seems to be good enough.

In the months that follow his initial confession, his affections for you only seem to grow despite his best efforts. He knows that continuing down this path would only lead to more hurt. But in the moments when he thinks no one is looking, he allows himself to fall a little harder.

Why? He does not know. But he knows the following are true: you’re the person he wants to go on aimless adventures with because it isn’t about the destination but the journey. You’re the person whom he wants to be held by when the days are long and the night is dark. You’re the person that he wants to be able to call home. You’re the only person that’s ever made him feel so alive.

Little did he know, you felt the same way too.

You’re both sharing a box of ‘case-closed pizza’ while he tells you about this young artist he’d discovered online. There’s a softness in your eyes that sparks a fire in his gut. Something nags at him to ask you just one more time. He pushes the thought away. He knows it’s a stupid idea. But then you’re laughing at something he says and the question leaves his mouth before his brain can stop it.

“Give me a chance,” he says. “Please? Just one date.” You blink at him a few times, dumbfounded. He’s preparing an apology when you speak up.

“Marcus-” he hates the way you say his name like it’s a melody, “listen, I- I don’t-” you huff in frustration. You contemplate your options in your mind. He deserves to know the truth. You want him to know the truth. You just didn’t think it’d be this hard to say out loud.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked…” The defeat in his voice makes your stomach turn.

“It’s not you. I just- Well, okay it’s kind of you but it's mostly me.” You falter. “It’s definitely me.” You force yourself to look into his eyes before declaring what you’ve been afraid to say.

“The life that you picture in your future? The one where you’re happily married, maybe a couple of kids who drive you insane but-” you exhale sharply, masking your scoff, “you wouldn’t have it any other way because the love of your life is there with you? That’s not something I-” He’s looking at you with so much love and you have no idea what to do with it. It takes everything in you to not look away.

“That’s not something I want, ever. I don’t see myself getting married, or having kids, or -” you purse your lips as the thought occurs to you, “or loving someone so much that even when they break my heart, I want to hold them close in my arms so they can never leave.” Tears prick at your eyes and your voice falls to a whisper when you say, “I don’t know how to love and be loved back and the thought of it, I-” you gaze falls onto the half-empty box on the table. You can’t look him in the eyes when you admit it out loud for the first time, can’t look him in the eyes as you admit it to yourself.

“I’m terrified, Marcus.”

A lone tear rolls down your cheek and he brings a shaky hand up to wipe it away gently. He almost laughs at the irony. The man who loved too much is in love with one who loved too little. There’s a pain in his chest that feels almost like someone had driven a knife through his heart and twisted.

“I’m scared too,” his voice is soft as he speaks, as if he’s afraid that you’ll shatter at the sound. “I’ve let my heart be beaten, bruised and broken more times than I care to admit.” He sighs as he takes his hand in yours. “That life you think I picture? Maybe that’s what I wanted once but that's not who I am anymore.” He shakes his head gently as he tugs at your hand, drawing your gaze up to meet his. “After Teresa, I swore I’d never let anyone in again. I didn’t think I would survive the pain, but then you walked into my life and,” he gives you a crooked smile as he whispers, “something about you made me want to love again. So, if you’ll have me,” he brings his other hand up to cup your cheek, “it’d be an honour to have my heart broken by you.”

Tears are streaming openly down your face at his declaration. It never occurred to you that he was afraid too. He’d seemed so.. carefree. Despite all the heartbreak, he’d found the courage to put himself out there one more time, to let himself love one more time. It occurs to you then that maybe what you admire about him most wasn’t his ability to make you laugh when you felt like crying. Or the way he always knew when you needed a hug. It was that he made you want to look fear in the eye and say ‘not anymore’.

Slowly, you let your head fall into a nod. “I promise to be gentle.” He chuckles softly and he pulls you into his chest. You melt into his embrace and relish in his warmth. You feel a hopeful smile tug at the corner of your lip and you bury further into him.

Maybe part of loving means being afraid, together.

[ angstageddon masterlist | chaotic-noceur’s masterlist ]

——angstageddon tag list

@din-damn-djarin @chaotic-noceur @chaoticspaceidiot​ @engineeredfiction​ @pedropascalito​ @dreamgirl-67 @hillarymurray4​ @wille-zarr​ @oloreaa​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @marydjarin​ @roxypeanut​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @mrschiltoncat​ @agirllovespasta​ @wickedfrsgrl​ @dindisneydjarin​  @opheliaelysia​ @aeryntheofficial​ @adikaofmandalore​ @goldafterglow​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @chibi-liz05​ @scarlettvonsass​ @rpcvliz​ @cinewhore @basura2319​ @theravenreads​ @mxndoscyarika​ @jaime1110​ @f0rever15elf​ @pancakepike​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​

[sir-adamus]

so, after making some changes, struggling to find character allusions and having to rename one of the team members so i’d have an initial i can fit into a reasonable-ish team name, i have the concept descriptions of this RWBY fan-team down, below the cut, i give you Team HRTS - i am open to any feedback on these:

Team HRTS are a “technically-graduated” Huntress team operating out of Vale; they had rushed back to the school from a mission as the attack began, arriving at the city far too late to do anything but help pick up the pieces.

After a hasty, informal graduation from Acting Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch, they’re taking to their roles as Huntresses in a world now fumbling in the dark, no matter how futile it seems right now.

Alice Heddwyn – Leader, based on Alice in Wonderland. Rabbit Faunus. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Vorpal Blade” – Sword – fitted with grooves that slot different combinations of Dust types in depending on the mode, mode is selected by twisting the handle in combinations only Alice knows. Examples: “Snicker-Snack” mode – Default, no Dust. “Frumious” mode – Fire and Rock Dust. “Slithy” mode – Water and Gravity Dust. “Tulgey” mode – Plant and Wind Dust. “Mimsy” mode – Electricity Dust. Alice utilises a fast series of swings, dealing physical and elemental damage to wear down her opponents defenses.

Semblance: “Wonderland” – by expending Aura, Alice can summon an “imaginary friend” (similar to Weiss’s summons) that acts as an autonomous entity on the battlefield. Only one friend can be summoned at a time, cannot split into multiple entities, and as Alice is not directly in control of the friends, she must be careful who she picks as they may prove to be more a hindrance than a help. Risk factor: if she gets too carried away with her imagination, her Aura drains faster. Optimal usage is in small bursts rather than a continuous battlefield presence.

Personality: Charismatic, friendly and airy (in general, weird girl energy), able to balance the personalities within her team and respond to feedback from her teammates. Has a notable childish streak (she sometimes talks to her imaginary friends, so she seems weird to other people but – understandably – the line where she ends and the imaginary friends her Semblance manifests, and how sapient they are on their own, is blurry), and can be quite stubborn, especially towards authority figures when she believes she knows better. Quite talkative and blunt.

Appearance: Long, white rabbit ears. Short, platinum blonde hair – “punky” hairstyle? Blue eyes. Freckles and a tan due to outdoorsy nature. Shortest member of her team at 5’4’’. Outfit: Azure blue hairband. Blue combat skort (with pockets). White belt – pocket-watch hanging from it (gift/memento from a parent referencing the White Rabbit?) and Pumpkin Pete keychain. Wears black knee and wrist support braces and blue fingerless gloves. Black combat boots with blue lining/laces and cute white bows on the back. White tank top, black high collar crop puffer jacket (blue interior lining, stripes down the arms and accents), sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Aura Colour: White

Emblem: Keyhole shape - splashed on the back of her jacket in white.

Background: Alice is the daughter of a Faunus and a human – her human parent is from the wealthier side of Vale (befitting the crown imagery and also alluding to original Alice being kind of upper class), she grew up in a large home in Vale, filled with extended family (some of whom she’s not entirely sure she’s actually related to), full of eccentricity and play; encouraging her wild imagination. She wanted to be a Huntress due to her imaginative spirit and romantic ideals about adventures and heroism. Initially she was quite a socially awkward, isolated loner outside of her home as she was often singled out as the weird kid (if she wasn’t being targeted for being a Faunus), while she studied at Pharos Academy, so initially it took a while for her to open up and rely on her team, at which point her more extroverted tendencies became apparent.

Rowena Argentum – based on Treasure Island. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Flint and Bones” - Twin pistols that can combine and extend into an anti-material rifle (“The Captain”) – this mode has a lot of recoil, so Rowena’s prosthetic leg can double as a mount for it for long range shots.

Semblance: None – her Semblance was stolen not long after it unlocked when she was young, as collateral following a hit job by the assassin Marcus Black.

Personality: Cheerful and perhaps overly friendly, Rowena maintains a humble and optimistic outlook, sharing Alice’s eagerness for adventure. Unlike Alice, however, Rowena masks a hard edge, brought on by a life living unprotected by the Kingdoms; she’s an impressive liar, excellent at gathering information and pickpocketing. She has a vengeful streak and her impulsiveness often gets her into trouble, though it has tempered over the years.

Appearance: Long, loose green hair and coal-black irises. 5’8’’. She has a few scars on her arms and face from a rough life outside the Kingdoms, one notable one being a scar extending from the left edge of her mouth in a jagged “smile”. Rowena lost her left leg in the same incident she lost her Semblance; it has since been replaced with a simple prosthesis that she has modified to double as a mount for The Captain. She has a pirate aesthetic, wearing a loose blouse under a long double-breasted coat-jacket. Under her jacket she wears suspenders, which have the holsters for Flint and Bones attached. She wears several belts around her waist, loose-fitting trousers tucked into knee-high buckle boots. Colour scheme primarily green and silver.

Aura Colour: Silver

Emblem: A stylised Hawk from a top-down view, with its wings spread; worn on her belt buckle and tattooed on her right wrist.

Background: Rowena grew up outside the protection of the Kingdoms, hailing from a small seaside town. She saw numerous bandits and pirates coming through town on a daily basis, and would often be regaled with stories of swashbuckling adventure by the friendlier visitors. Until the day came that a notorious pirate made port in the town, and the place was set ablaze after his subsequent assassination by Marcus Black. Rowena’s Semblance was unlocked in the panic, only to be immediately stolen by Marcus on his way through, endangering the child’s life as her home burned around her, and the Grimm set in. She lost her leg as a result. Determined to never let this happen anywhere else, she dedicated her life to becoming a Huntress, traveling all over (including some time spent in Kuchinashi) and fighting to survive, learning whatever skills she had to until she was old enough to take the exam at Beacon Academy – and keeping an ear to the ground in case a certain assassin ever showed his face again.

Titania Ianthe – based on the Fairy Queen. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Graviton Reign” – Glaive weapon, reach for crowd control. Contains a mechanism which uses Gravity Dust inside the blade, furthering crowd control ability, either with repulsing strikes or anchoring opponents as they are swept away.

Semblance: “Attraction” – Titania emits a low-level psychic field that makes everyone and everything pay attention to her. Effect is passive and subtle most of the time, but she can use her Aura to concentrate the effect as a pulse in battle (extending the radius of her Area of Effect to 15 meters); drawing aggro from people and Grimm alike.

Personality: Aloof, confident and proud, Titania didn’t come to Beacon to make friends, but there she found a family. Titania has a lot of walls up, and is often frustrated that her teammates seem determined to clamber over every single one. Despite her exasperation though, she loves her team and would do anything for them, even if it means administering some tough love once in a while. She has difficulty in social situations, and has a tendency to try and shoulder too much responsibility at once. She is also sometimes insecure, due to the nature of her Semblance, whether anyone truly likes her.

Appearance: Wavy, shoulder length dark brown hair, pinned back so it won’t get in her eyes. Dark purple eyes. She has light brown skin, a toned, athletic physique and is noted as the most beautiful of her team. Tallest member of the team at 6’2’’. Outfit: Wears a purple and black sleeveless, hooded top (hood is usually kept up). Black, segmented armoured bracers with silver accents over black gloves. A loose, knee-length faded purple skirt over biker shorts. Heeled black boots with purple laces and zippers.

Aura Colour: Purple

Emblem: A tiara with a large central peak – shaped with interwoven lines and swirls

Background: Titania hails from Vacuo, originally from a small community near the edge of the Kingdom. She grew up hearing old stories about famous Huntsmen and Huntresses, especially enamoured with legendary Huntresses like Opal or the Grimm Reaper. Eager to see the world beyond the sands, and assured in herself that she would one day be talked about in stories too, she trained to fight, traveling to Vale where she could begin her legend. She quickly found recognition and popularity at Beacon; she just wishes people would stop asking her out on dates.

Sable Dunscaith – based on Scáthach. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Nightfall Breach” – a spear with multiple configurations. Its compact form can fire crossbow bolts (charged with explosive Dust) out of the spear tip. The default form functions as a regular spear weapon and can be thrown as a javelin – the spearhead has a hidden function, releasing explosive barbs for additional damage after making contact. The pole-vault form is exactly what it says on the tin, extending out and allowing Sable to pole-vault over or across obstacles, retracting rapidly to allow for aerial manoeuvres whilst she’s in the air. She can also throw Nightfall Breach as a javelin, and relies on martial arts training until she can retrieve it.

Semblance: “Phantom” – able to utilise any shadow within a 40-foot radius as a portal as long as she is stood within the shadow (and it isn’t her own) – she can then appear from any shadow of her choosing (the further away, the higher the cost on her Aura). She can also utilise portals at a distance by throwing objects, such as Nightfall Breach, giving her an advantage in combat by making her hard to predict. Her Semblance’s effectiveness is drastically increased at night, but incredibly diminished in wide open areas, especially during the day when there’s little to cast shadows.

Personality: In contrast to her gloomy appearance, Sable is as much of an excitable nerd as her leader, as well as the de facto team mom. Sable is often on the side-lines in conversations, which suits her just fine, but she’s always watching out for everyone and there to lend a supportive hand when it’s needed. In spite of her quiet appearance, she’s also a bit of a prankster and can be very competitive, especially when her twin is involved. Her calm, warm demeanour however masks a fiery and brutal warrior with a number of tricks up her sleeve that let her control the flow of battle while maintaining a sharp degree of unpredictability.

Appearance: Red hair kept in a short ponytail. Vivid crimson eyes. Pale complexion. In general, she has a very Gothic aesthetic. 5’11’’. Outfit: Sable dresses in mainly black with some silver accents. She wears a long, fishtail coat with a fur-lined collar, long trousers and fur-lined heeled boots.

Aura Colour: Black

Emblem: A Castle – embroidered in silver on the back of her coat.

Background: Sable grew up on the island of Patch off the coast of Vale, and like many, attended Signal Academy in hopes of one day being accepted into Beacon – being a Huntress like her mother and grandmother was the dream. Sable’s twin, Astrid, determined to outshine her, followed her on this path, becoming a rival that pushes Sable to become ever stronger. When initiation put them each on different teams, this rivalry grew even fiercer; now in their fourth year and on the cusp of becoming fully licensed Huntresses, tensions between the twins are edging towards a fever pitch.

[sereisstuff]

𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞  J.JK

 ~   Jeon Jungkook was a lightweight champion a so-called minute legend, rising to stardom rather quickly while basking in wads of cash and pools of opportunity, therefore, leaving his right hand woman y/n to wallow in the shallows unforgivably with a relationship that pleads for more and a tension that tightens by the minute.

~ Includes - Angst, an angry Jungkook. Drug consumption and neglect. Tears, pain. Slight fluff and rough tension, foolishness, cussing and self doubt, slight kissing and mixed emotions. 

~ This is my first long one shot. 

~WORD COUNT : 4188K

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Jungkook was anguished, unable to comprehend the atrocities he just fulfilled in front of everyone. His anger often speculated multiple things but never did they assume they’re most beloved lightweight competitor had a source for all his rage. The fire he lit distinguished itself in his burning temper while his hand was thrust into a crowd of roaring spectators, not far from him a man laid bloodied and somewhat busted in defeat.

His opponent had muttered something about his best friend, how she would be fine under his fitted sheets with muffled moans and even if the trash talk was embedded within the arena, the amount of disgust he felt hearing those prudent words escape the man’s mouth had oiled something unforgivable inside of himself. You, of course, didn’t hear a word, unsure of your ground while you watched your childhood best friend curl his fist tightly before shoving it into the knockout zone of his opponents face, a gasp was withdrawn from your mouth and you abruptly stood with a cheer.

Yet jungkook had let a scoff escape his lips seeing the man behind him lay in his own pool of misconception, cocky it was to even consider being proud but he was nonetheless. However, this gained him the name one-minute legend, sounded like some sick perverted nickname a pubescent teen gift they’re former in hopes their self-esteem declines.

Jungkook had dashed from the stage into your arms eagerly, you both shared a heartwarming embrace as you shouted praises into his ear “You did it, kook!!! You won!! I knew you had it in you, god I’m so proud of you” his strong arms rested around your waist, tightening by the minute in fear that the spoken words his opponent shared would reach your ears. Yet that day was the destination for his publicity, gaining a name for himself also gained him a renowned position in the hierarchy of boxers.

This led to you having to constantly stick to his side like glue, he requested you be there as support and being his best friend how could you deny the luxury. Although this also led your minimal crush blossoming into something more and you couldn’t be more enraged with yourself then now, his fame was admirable but it shifted something within him.

“I assure you, their only childhood friends. It would be incompetent for him to settle so early” Yuna laughed whilst distracting the publishers of the minor county, her small glance wasn’t missed as she sorrowfully shot you a distant look. Yuna time and again proved herself worthy of managing Jungkook's matches and doing so with gratitude yet she was also your standing figure right now, Jungkook trained like there was no tomorrow and being careful of his enraged outburst they had called you in hopes of slowing his dedication down to a workable pace.

“How long has he been like this,” you asked, genuinely curious about the pertain able answer Yuna was about to give you, she seethed in an eager breath but hesitated towards the end “Yuna, I need to know. He hasn’t contacted me in days and for that to happen- I’m sorry just tell me how long he’s been training himself?” you continued once more, foot desperately tapping at the ground with anxiety filling every fiber of your being.

“He’s been going since 2 in the morning, a few hours after you left for work” she informed sadly, Yuna thought of Jungkook as a younger brother and to see him in such a distasteful state was heartbreaking for her, that and she hadn’t slept in the past two days due to the income of numerous calls and agents seeking interest in Jungkook’s formidable skills which were clearly shown in his iconic match a few months ago.

“He’s in there, right?” you countered, finger pointed to the door while waiting for Yuna to nod her head and gesture for you to go. Yuna waved you off as you walked tediously towards the door, finally able to grasp the heavy breaths and smooth punches escalating every running second just from the door which made you curious how beyond the solid wood looked?

You opened the door with a light push simultaneously you met the sight of Jungkook sweating pools of his own hard work, T-shirt disregarded to the floor and his wounds fleshing badly causing a small yelp to escape your mouth, the room was spacious, filling but a mere part of the building still, it was his to keep. Weights resided within every corner with a matte black for simplicity and not far towards the middle of the room sat a match ground with black ropes embracing it.

“Jungkook” you frowned, closing the door from the eye of the public as you walked towards Jungkook who was high in intensity, his curled fist hadn’t loosened and due to the number of overwhelming matches, he was presumably growing addicted to the adrenaline.

“No, I need to train” Jungkook grumbled, inhaling a deep long breath before he began punching the sand-filled bag once more, you removed the sneakers from your feet before stepping on to the mat respectfully“Jungkook, listen to me. You need rest and I’m not leaving until you stop what you’re doing and go home. Everyone is worried about you especially me” you pleaded heavily slowly approaching Jungkook.

His tattoos glistened under the gleaming light and the highlighted sweat, bicep tensing with every punch thrown chaotically “Go home y/n, rest or something. You’re coming to my match with me tonight?” his demanding question broke in exhaustion towards the end of his sentence, alike his notions you also cried for his attention “what if I said no, hmm?” This made him abruptly stop, a frown knitted between his two strong brows.

You’d never miss one of his matches, even as gullible children you attended every fight of his. Often going with his parents who kindly offered their protection and an escort to and from your parents home, Jungkook, however, couldn’t think about a day where you didn’t come with him everywhere, you were his best friend. The only person he willingly let succumb to his unearthly chaos, someone who could calm him on his cold nights because without you he wouldn’t be in a position that he proudly took today, literally.

“Exactly, now pack your shit Jungkook. You have a match tonight and god forbid you faint before you even reach the octagon” you spoke with an unbreakable tone, wishing to see that soft smile he once wore like a crown. The tips of his lips curled slightly but never did it fully reach his alluring eyes, he was reaching his peak publicity and you weren’t going to stop him.

Jungkook huffed using his injured hand to run through his thick, wet locks. He stood there, unclothed with a prominent aura as his tall body faced you with a perplexed look floating through his curious yet hooded hues “Come on kook, grab your things” your voice was soft and angelic, not too rough on the edges once you approached Jungkook who signed diligently to himself.

Hands caressing his cheeks while biting his lip in temptation “you can train tomorrow, you’re already doing amazing don’t overwork yourself.” Your soft touch slid down his forearm into his hands “Okay!” Jungkook looked down at you with an unreadable look composing with shivers running up and down his body as he repeated your words with a bright smile “Okay, chubs”.

He was a force to be reckoned with, founding his matches with the deepest temperamental attributes he could find within himself. He treated the ring with a mindset which he releases all his impending emotions out into the world, he had issues. Anger was only one soiling in his garden of mentality.

Almost every week you treated him to a few lunches, oftentimes he would reside in your embrace towards the end of the night where the sunny dues hollowed behind the hills and the callous moon shone with a luminescent light peeking through your barreled window cell. The lace depicted multiple floral patterns that when the moon was in the right place, shone against his warm honey coated skin in all its magnificence.

His skin was torn and rough yet held an undertone of purity, sheered in white but stained in blood. Night after night you focused on repairing his wounds, some were mild and others would be considered endangering, though it only got worse with time. Day after day his name was ringing bells on everyone’s doorstep, Jeon Jungkook the knockout champion was what they called him.

He was raised in the chain of renowned people, with this sudden title came money and fame. Jungkook earned a decent amount before but now, it was sickening. You were proud of him and discussed the sudden fame he tampered with, he promised nothing would happen. His attitude wouldn’t change yet that’s where you were foolish enough to believe his innocent intentions. 

“The winner is, Jeon Jungkook the knockout king” was looping every match followed by cheers that could be heard miles away, Jungkook would embrace you every single game, although hours later he reeked of sweat and intoxication, the callous hand of money overwhelmed him to a certain point where he no longer understood what to do with it. Money, cars and homes all laid like dimes in his hands, so he extended his degree. Spending money on you like a little barbie doll, gifting some to his parents and splashing it on awful things.

That didn’t stop you from loving him endlessly, even when it hurt you more to do so.

You had been busy at the bar you worked at, taking up double shifts when the offer was placed not having the courage to face this new publicity seeking best friend of yours. The way he downed bottles of the substance that earned you a living was cruel, never did you think the craft he dedicated himself too would put him in such a position.

“Hey, your phone has been going off for the past hour? You should really answer it” Jihoon called, the phone you had bought was impenetrable in his hands. You shrugged off his advances for you to answer Jungkook's pleads, even so Yuna’s too and probably many more people seeking your company.

“They can wait” you replied dully, shoving a bright smile onto your face. It was almost like Jungkook had finally noticed your distaste for his actions. “Surely” Jihoon rolled his eyes not liking the disliking tone seeping from your venomous mouth, change was bound to come for you and Jungkook but never did you think it would be so soon.

“How’s your boyfriend been?” Jihoon cooed making you gulp at the name “he’s not my boyfriend Jihoon, he’s just a childhood best friend is all” you spoke through a tremble, you were soon succumbing to the desirable thoughts leaking past your mind every running minute. The hatred you felt knowing the love you had for Jungkook was only ever growing, it was like walking through a haunted forest, not knowing when you were going to be pushed away.

“Whatever floats your boat, darl” his tone was lavish, almost too lavish. Pointing a finger towards the answer button on your phone leaving no room for your pleads to comfort his brass decision. Jungkook sighed hearing the phone being answered, erupting a certain taste for whom wrapped his knuckles now. He missed you, not knowing the decisions he made were pushing you further and further from his reach but you couldn’t be too devious to believe he would let such a gem escape him. 

He would be lying if he said tears didn’t escape his doe eyes every now and then, the parties, heathen bound air with a tinge of drugs seeping through his skin could never replace the warmth you offered him, comforting his insecurities in his darkest hours.

“Y/n” his breathing was uneven, erratic and almost death defying. He’d been running, training for hours on end hoping you would burst through the door claiming his acts as a monstrosity. Yet to his demise, the door rattled before the wind. Somewhat bringing comfort to his clouded mind “Hey, kook. What’s wrong? “You managed to say with eyes closed in disbelief towards your former workmate.

Jungkook whimpered as he laid alone against the wall of the gym, his eyes examining the promise ring he’d bought you “Kook?” you called again only meeting the short response of leveled breathing, worry was churning your stomach and heat raised to your cheeks “Jungkook, I have work. Call me back” and with that you impulsively hung up the line.

Jihoon shook his head, you dropped your phone onto the bench while grumbling “what?” Jihoon laughed, smiling towards another customer who took the drink leaving the bar empty for you both to conversate openly “Why don’t you tell him?” he asked.

“Tell him what? He can’t even talk properly without slurring cause he’s so bloody intoxicated all the time” it was a painful truth, to cover up his failure he chose a path of addiction and the side he would reside on your bed was left to wallow in the tender touch of winter.

“Tell him that you love him?!?” Jihoon shouted, gaining the eyes of the vigilant visitors. Some began to point to your direction constantly discussing your name very faintly, just like that you were known as his best friend. Something you’ll forever be and that was the painstaking truth.

“You know I can’t do that, Jihoon. No matter how much I love him, how reckless he is, I will always only be the best friend, his right hand girl. It sucks but there’s nothing I can do about it, because no matter how hard I wanna stop feeling, He’ll always have those alluring eyes staring at me, giving me hope” you breathed, tears brimming the edges of your eyes

…….

The sudden knock against your home door woke you from your sleep, glancing towards the broken clock sitting beside your bed as the time read 2.45 am. The knock rung continuously following a few sounds of metal being fiddled with, the struck noise made you rise tirelessly from your slumber, curling a tight hand around the minimal pocket knife placed under your pillow for protection.

The perpetrator groaned, wailing in agony for the door to relish under the mellow light once you turned it on feeling oddly familiarized with the tone. Hand brisking the handle with a tedious turn in your wrist, a heavy breath migrated from your throat with the knife heaving in your sea of worries. pulling the door open, following the broken wood came Jungkook's drunk state, his ear was solid against the door listening to any footsteps you might have produced through your journey, perching himself against the door towards the sudden pull.

 “Have you been drinking, again?” you prompted first in worry, Jungkook was slurring through his words. noticing his car parked across your lawn and the door of his new BMW was opened, left to close itself. He was leant up against your door with an incurable pain in his eyes and a bottle raised to your face “why have you been ignoring me, chubs” Jungkook slurred tripping over his own feet, the hoodie seized on his ruffled hair almost sliding off with every harsh move he made. You ignored his incoherent whines, taking long strides to his car. The smell was revolting, almost like an intoxicating drug was thrown around carelessly wafting into the air of dampened clothes and alcoholic beverages. Not seeing your former for the past week only for him to come barging into your home at early hours of dusk

You turned his engine off and continued to close his doors safely, Jungkook had caught himself on the step lying face-first on the floor. The sudden impact caused an array of wounds to crack open leaving his beaten face bloodied in injuries “Come on, kook. Let’s get you cleaned up, alright” you gasped, lending a hand around his neck after he tousled on the floor with a groan.

Jungkook didn’t have it in himself to fight, shimmering under the bright light was a bed comfortable enough for him to fall into a comatose state.

“God, look at you. You're a mess” You reached behind your small cupboard grabbing a medical kit, leaning in unconsciously, hence being used to bandaging his wounds you began applying a decent amount of ointment and alcohol to his face after cleansing it gently with some water. Jungkook had slightly sobered up, yet he didn’t speak.

Admiring the proximity as you were inches away from his face, peeking from beneath his bangs at you tiredly apprehending his injuries with delicacy. It was all sudden, his strong breath hit your face as he spoke, this time clearly and fully demanding your attention “why have you been ignoring me?” he rumbled slowly

He clearly hadn’t been paying attention towards himself lately, there were multiple reasons as to why you no longer comforted him on his off nights “Just rest up” you replied, ignoring his silent plea which fell on deaf ears “No, y/n. I need answers, you stopped showing up to training. You stopped answering my calls and I’m lucky if I even get a reply to my messages. I’m sure if I had a match this week you wouldn't even show up. So tell me, I have the right to know why you're being so distant.” Jungkook growled, his overflowing bottle of ridicule was filling to a brim

You pinched the bridge of your nose tentatively examining his face “just look at you Jungkook, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore” the truth was weightless on your tongue, darting a tongue across your lips, glistening them in saliva causing Jungkook to stare down at your lips before darting his eyes back onto your face. His eyes wide in frustration “I could say the same for you” he scoffed.

“you show up to my house at quarter to three in the morning drunk off your ass. Thinking I’m gonna embrace you with all my love, you’ve been doing this for the past three months, Jungkook. Three!! Of course I’m gonna be worried about you but I can’t do it anymore” your heart hammered against your chest and the unreadable look on his face was horrifying.

Jungkook was lost for words, just about to defend his acts before you shut him up again “Remember when we were kids, you promised you wouldn’t hurt me, ever, now look at you. It pains me more to ignore you, but right now I can’t even look at you without wanting to cry” Jungkook had stood up with his intricate hair shielding his sight, ready to face the consequences of his actions towards the one he silently loved from afar.

“You said you would always be there for me now look, where were you huh? Where was that kookie who couldn’t even watch a romance movie without crying. You think ignoring you was the worst, you left me every single night to go get high off your kite only to come weeping back into my arms for me to face the harsh aftermath kook. I’m sick of it” Your voice was shouting, the clouded thoughts struck Jungkook harshly as his nostrils flared in anger.

You stood up, matching his posture. Your hand clasp around his chest with your head hung low “I love you Jungkook, but you can’t even be there for me. I’m tired and you don’t even notice, I’m just some punching bag for your emotions like a fucking idiot. But you know I won’t leave you and that’s the messed up part” your tears caressed your cheeks, rapidly seeking an output.

Jungkook leaned his head back suddenly feeling the weight of his loss crash down on his harder than ever, reaching around your nape to embrace your body in his. Seizing your fist in his open palms leading your struggling arms around his tiny waist.

He rested his head on top of yours, the hot tears pooling around his hoodie “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking y/n.” was all he managed to say, in all honesty Jungkook never let any harm befall you, recent times called for him to fall effortlessly in love with you yet you still managed to make him fall deeper, he’d always liked you from the beginning even as a child, you were his number one supporter, never leaving his side amidst the risk.

“Your so stupid, Jungkook.” Came your sniffle, you’d stopped crying a moment ago but preferred to relish in the memories of Jungkook's embrace, when was the last time he held you like this? It was warm, shaded by his cold outlook Jungkook was rarely what the media depicted.

“Look at me, y/n” Jungkook coeed leaning his head back a little bit enough for his hands to cradle your chubby cheeks in his large hands, your tear glistening eyes peered up at him “You deserve the world and if you give me a chance I’ll do anything to give it to you, let me make it up to you and I promise I won’t fuck it up this time” Jungkook words had knitted your frown together, what was he asking?

“What do you mean?” you questioned warily, Jungkook used his tattooed hand as a tissue wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb “I bought you something a while ago, I couldn’t find it in myself to ask you but now I feel like this is the only time I’ll have the courage to do it.”  He proposed nervously, reaching deep into his pocket while one of his arms still tenderly embraced your waist.

Out came an indigo box, the sudden thought brought a gasp from your lips “will you take this promise ring? My love” my love? Everything was so freshen in abundance, you nodded your head in infirmity. Claming to the thin veil of hope that this wasn’t just a dream, the man you loved since you could first remember was suddenly laying his life and career on the line to promise you something you only wished for.

But was it the right choice?  

Jungkook pulled you into a passionate kiss once you screamed a strong and prominent yes, too eager you were to gain his hand in marriage. It was all unfathomable, he’d also involuntarily moved you into his priceless mansion he adjusted to weeks earlier. You were still adjusting to calling him your boyfriend too, knowing a promise ring meant nothing but what was said in the word. A promise.

He made your Mondays more enjoyable, waking up to his exquisite beauty and oftentimes incoherent snores which you came to adore. Bopping his bruised nose while caressing his cheek, treasuring the moment. He yearned for an embrace to coo in and you gave that, the warmth you offered was his to grasp.

He also stopped coming home high off his kite, the alcohol abuse subsidized and you couldn’t be more happy to have the old kook back. Attending his fights every week with a new outlook for the media, notorious for protecting Jungkook and calming him down when others looked down at his abilities and even when they would make explicit detailed things to say to you in hopes of angering their former opponent.

“Just ignore them baby” you would say, holding his hand tightly in remembrance of your existence, roping him back to reality and soothing the red he was growing to see.

“I’m yours okay baby, don’t worry about them” You muttered after the incident, your dress rising up as you straddled Jungkook to gain his attention “ forget about him.” you continued, Jungkook had a dark look in his eyes. Gawking towards your position as his hands placed themselves on your exposed thighs covered in his markings he consciously made nights before “I’ll always be here okay, look at me. I’ve been here since the beginning nothing and I mean nothing will make me ever want to leave you”

Jungkook breathed, blinking rapidly as his head bobbed down leaving you to pick his chin up to face your worried face. The driver had already left the building and you both were off to his next event, yet even with a face as bruised as his own people still recognized him “keep your head high kook, I love you and I just wish the best for you okay” you were pecking his lips in reassurance and he managed to pull the ends of his lips into a simple smile.

“I’ll listen to you” Jungkook spoke, leaning his forehead against yours as you both shared a breath. Reminiscing the days where you cradled each other in friendship “I love you baby”

Nothing was ever harder for a boxer then the constant matches, yet being with one was probably the hardest task of all.

[brindaneer]

Film-making, like almost every other creative endeavour, requires not just an incredible level of talent and hard work but also immense fortitude. Naturally, good films are hard to come by. Masterpieces, however, are rare. A movie is most often just a source of entertainment for viewers; at times, it is a medium of abstract communication with actors they admire. However, cinema truly becomes art only when it is able to stimulate the emotions as well as the artistic sensibilities of its audience. And Jodha Akbar does exactly that. It is without an iota of doubt, a masterpiece of the modern era that ought to be watched by art lovers across the world.

The words ‘Akbar’, ‘Jodha’ and ‘Mughal Empire’, whenever uttered in the context of Indian cinema, have been primarily associated with the all time classic ‘Mughal-e-Azam’. K. Asif’s epic directorial venture of 1960 has remained the benchmark of historical costume dramas in India since its release, not without any reason. Created on a budget of rupees 1.5 crore, considered mammoth six decades ago, Mughal-e-Azam continues to be the greatest Indian blockbuster of all time even today. It amassed roughly 11 crore rupees after its run at the box-office then, which is equivalent to about a massive 2000 crores now. Such is the film’s aura that substantial interest was generated among cine-lovers during the release of its coloured version even as late as in 2004 and 2009. Hence, those were enormous shoes that Ashutosh Gowarikar had to fit in; there was no way of escaping the comparison since the subject matters of both films were too closely related. And because it was Ashutosh Gowarikar, he succeeded.

Not only did he find the perfect story (courtesy of Haider Ali) and draft a soulful script with Haider Ali and K.P. Saxena, he also roped in musical maestro A.R. Rahman and poetic genius Javed Akhtar to take care of the ‘music and lyrics’, two attributes that were required to be absolutely flawless in a period film such as this. While Neeta Lulla’s costumes and accessories made every actor look the part, ace set designer Nitin Desai recreated the Agra and Amer forts at shooting locations with faultless precision. However, all of this could have gone to waste had Ashutosh not been able to get the perfect cast on board. Having Hrithik Roshan and Aishwarya Rai Bachchan as Mughal emperor Akbar and feisty Rajput princess Jodha respectively was nothing short of achieving an ultimate casting coup. And these two were going to be indispensable for the grand success of this colossal project, probably more so than anyone else, except the director himself.

Hrithik Roshan might have already established himself as a terrific nuanced actor in the industry by the time he signed Jodha Akbar but taking on a role which would draw comparisons with the iconic Prithviraj Kapur and the legendary Dilip Kumar himself was a challenge he was yet to undertake. Likewise, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, despite being the undisputed claimant to the title of the ‘most beautiful woman in the world’ during that time (which she still probably is) had never had her talent and beauty measured against the ethereal Madhubala before. Naturally, the burden of expectations lay as much on their shoulders as their director’s. The task at hand was going to be difficult for both but even more for Hrithik since he would be setting foot into the world of period films for the first time. His co-star had had previous experience from Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Devdaas and Doug Lefler’s The Last Legion. The Last Legion in particular, deserves to be mentioned in this context because the sword-fighting training that Aishwarya had received for her role in that film probably helped her in Jodha Akbar too.

Despite not having the advantage of prior experience, Hrithik, like a true artist, owned the character of Akbar, making it seem like he had been playing historical characters all his life. His body-language, attitude, diction, voice modulation and movements were so attuned to someone of Akbar's stature that it took real effort to remember that the latter was a separate person. In a promotional interview before the film’s release, Ashutosh Gowarikar revealed how amazing an experience it was for him to see Hrithik get into the skin of the most famous Mughal of all time with an approach that was a combination of preparedness and spontaneity. Aishwarya too gave everything to the role of Jodha, and made this her career best performance since ‘Provoked’. Anyone who has watched ‘Jodha Akbar’ will agree that it is impossible to even imagine other people playing these two characters. If praise of the common man is not credible enough, let it also be known that Dilip Kumar saab himself was impressed by Hrithik’s versatility as an actor after watching the film at a special screening arranged for him by Ashutosh. He also admitted that the film had rekindled memories of the Magnum Opus ‘Mughal-e- Azam’ for him. Aishwarya too received immense praise for her performance as Jodha from critics, audience and industry colleagues alike.

Although comparisons between Mughal- e- Azam and Jodha Akbar were inevitable, it must be noted that both films dealt with very different aspects of Akbar’s life. While the older classic was about the aged Akbar’s conflicted relationship with his son Salim over the latter’s love affair with Anarkali, a courtesan renowned for her exquisite beauty, Gowarikar’s Jodha Akbar depicted the love story between the young emperor and his first wife, the Rajput princess Jodha. The similarity between both films, apart from Akbar and the Mughals, lay in the fact that the identities of both Anarkali and Jodha had been a matter of contention amongst historians since decades. However, staying true to his meticulous nature, Ashutosh correctly issued a statement explaining that it was not his intention to disrespect any one; Jodha was one among the several historically mentioned names of Akbar’s Rajput wife and it had been chosen in the film over the rest due to its considerable popularity among commoners. Ashutosh was also very clear about the love story between Akbar and Jodha being completely fictional since no such account had ever been documented in history. Basically, the film was a fiction set against a historical backdrop, and as far as that setting was concerned, Ashutosh tried to be as accurate as possible, building a story around events that had been recorded in the Akbarnama.

Now that we have given the prelude, it is time to experience the film all over again, and we hope that prospect excites our readers. ‘Jodha Akbar’ opens with the second battle of Panipat that took place in 1556 A.D. between Mughal forces led by the child Emperor Jalaluddin Mohammad’s regent, Bairam Khan, and King Hemu. After defeating the latter, the Mughals were able to recapture the throne of Delhi. The war scenes are all flawlessly directed, keeping in mind the period and style of warfare adopted during that time, something that is naturally expected from a director whose resume boasts of films like ‘Lagaan’ and ‘Swades’. By the time Hrithik appears on the silver screen in one of the most challenging roles of his life, six years have elapsed and Jalal is an adult. Demonstrating his terrific grasp of the character, Hrithik sweeps the audience off their feet as Jalal finally sends Bairam Khan away to Mecca after stopping him from beheading the unarmed defeated opponent, and effectively takes over the administration of ‘Hindustan’ ('Ab apne faisle hum khud lena chahte hain'). Hrithik’s portrayal of Jalal’s suppressed rage as well as authority in this scene was a delight to watch then, and remains so even after all these years. As Jalal plans to annex the entire Rajputana, we are introduced to the other half of the film’s title, princess Jodha. Adept at sword-fighting, having learnt the skill from her cousin Sujamal (played beautifully by the talented Sonu Sood), Gowarikar’s Jodha is the perfect example of ‘beauty with brains’. Aishwarya is as graceful at sword-fighting as she usually is while dancing and imbibes the exact body language required to play a Rajput princess aptly.

Staying loyal to historical facts, Ashutosh Gowarikar depicts Jodha and Jalal’s marriage just as it actually was- a politically motivated alliance. Troubled by Jalal’s over-ambitious brother-in-law Sharifuddin, Jodha’s father, the King of Amer, requests Jalal to marry his daughter so that Amer could obtain Mughal security (In the film, Raja Bharmal of Amer sees Jalal for the first time as he tames a wild elephant in a superbly executed action sequence. Hrithik obviously did it himself, and in order to ensure his safety, he used to feed the said elephant regularly before the shooting of this particular scene took place). Her father’s decision comes as a rude shock to the young Jodha who does not want to compromise her culture after marriage, and is therefore left devastated. Despite not being completely sure about the proposal initially, Jalal eventually agrees to it in front of the Dargah of Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti as he realizes that this inter-faith marriage may be of assistance in promoting religious harmony throughout the country. In a beautiful monologue, he admits to the Khwaja that religious differences were the reason why previous rulers had not been able to establish their rule over the entire ‘Hindustan’; he believes his marriage with Jodha shall solve that problem.

However, Jodha’s decision is yet to come. She is not a stereotypical submissive sixteenth century female, unable to stand up for her own rights. Instead, she is brave enough to summon the Mughal emperor to her tent and lay two conditions in front of him, the fulfilment of which, is mandatory for her agreement with this new association (the famous ‘Humari do maange hain’ scene). First, she does not want to be forced into giving up her religion and customs; second, she wants a temple to be built inside her room in the Mughal palace for her spiritual guide, Lord Krishna. Aishwarya is enthralling in this scene; her calm yet rigid posture and polite yet bold speech are worth watching. Hrithik is simply magnigficent here; no other adjective is suitable enough to describe his phenomenal performance as Jalal hears Jodha out and later recounts the two demands to her relatives and rest of the entourage. He obviously goes on to accept these demands, his respect for Jodha increasing in leaps and bounds at her fearlessness and simplicity (‘Amer ki Rajkumari ke bekhawf jasbe aur saadgi ko hum salaam karte hain’). Naturally, Jodha has no other option left other than agreeing to the marriage.

Had the director wanted, the wedding could have been an elaborate dramatic affair, but Ashutosh Gowarikar is not just another director looking for success through gimmicks. The grand wedding sequence lasts only for about a few seconds during which Jodha and Jalal wed each other as per both Hindu and Islamic traditions in an exemplary display of socio-religious amalgamation. Any extra time devoted to this would have been unnecessary and detrimental to the pace of the movie. After the wedding, a group of Sufi singers perform the utterly captivating ‘Khwaja mere Khwaja’, one of A.R. Rahman’s all time best compositions, in probably the most poetic Hindi film sequence of recent times. Such was its impact upon Mr. Bachchan that he termed it the ‘most apocalyptic moment’ in cinema since the great Stanley Kubrik’s ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’. It is not just the song that casts a spell upon the audience during this scene; rather, the direction and acting, in conjunction with the soulful music engender a near hypnotic effect among viewers which last in their minds forever. Hrithik’s expressions as Jalal experiences a spiritual epiphany and joins the Sufis in a trance are simply fascinating. He is a privilege to watch. The scene is an acting masterclass in itself and had he received every existing accolade for this moment alone, it would still not have been unfair.

Jodha and Jalal’s first night together is another instance of the subtlety that this film ceaselessly displays. Jalal, perceptive enough to understand that Jodha’s unyielding attitude towards his romantic gestures is not shyness in disguise, but unwillingness to be with him, has the perfect solution- she is free to leave him if that is what she wants. However, once again giving proof of her simplicity and honesty, Jodha directly confesses that she has no intention whatsoever of walking out of this relationship despite her inhibitions towards it; for her it is an unbreakable bond that shall last unto death. Respecting her wishes, Jalal vows to never be intimate with her against her will. Hrithik and Aishwarya’s acting styles truly compliment Ashutosh’s direction as is evident from this scene among many others in the film; without an ounce of melodrama, they are able to set the stage for an epic love story ridden not just with external impediments but personal inhibitions as well.

The rest of the movie is basically a collection of beautiful moments between the two leads, interspersed with an optimal amount of drama to propel the plot. The first sequence post their marriage that needs to be discussed in detail is the Deewan-E- Aam scene followed by the part wherein Jalal and Jodha see each other's faces without a curtain or ‘ghoonghat’ in between. As Jalal conducts his first hearing at the Deewan-E-Aam after his marriage to the Hindu Jodha, he, quite expectedly, faces opposition from the Ulemas of the court regarding his decision. However, before he is able to solve the problem at hand, the melodious voice of his newly wed bride distracts him, thereby interrupting the court proceedings. The expressions on everyone's face are worth watching as Jalal leaves his throne and begins to walk out of the court, clearly too engrossed to even officially dismiss everyone present. Realization hits him a bit too late, leaving him embarrassed in front of the entire Deewan-E-Aam, but he manages to salvage the situation by uttering an awkward 'Takliya'. This entire scene is once again a brilliant testimony to the skills of the director who expertly incorporates subtle humour in such a serious scene without overdoing any of it or making it seem farcical. Hrithik's performance here is admirable, his comic timing being absolutely flawless. Drawn by Jodha's entrancing voice, Jalal enters her 'Mahal' and they see each other for the first time in what was arguably the most romantic meeting sequence of Bollywood then and has been so since the last two decades. Ashutosh does not provide the actors with any dialogues here, who, therefore, rely completely on facial expressions to convey their feelings towards each other. Hrithik has been a master in expressions since he first entered the industry and in this scene, he is at his nuanced best. But Aishwarya is no less, and that is precisely why their interaction looks so natural and enchanting. With tiny eye gestures and body postures, they express admiration for each other's physical appearance, their eyes speaking a thousand words at once. The part where she wants him to put sindur on her, and he fails to understand initially, is such a wonderful portrayal of his willingness to understand and respect her culture that it strikes a chord with one and all.

For Jalal, it is almost love at first sight. Though completely smitten by her, he knows instinctively that Jodha is going to take more time, no matter how impressed she is with him. In the next few minutes, Ashutosh shows Jalal and Jodha gradually treading the first steps of love with Javed Ali's mellifluous voice ringing in the background. 'Kehne ko jashn-e-bahara hai, ishq ye dekh ke hairaan hai, phool se khushboo khafa khafa hai gulshan mein, chupa hai koi ranj fiza ki chilman mein'. When the inimitable Javed Akhtar is in charge of lyrics, songs get transformed into dialogues and help the story to march forward. Jashn-e-bahara does just that, and does so exquisitely. It challenges the notion that romantic scenes must always entail physical intimacy, and proves that sometimes a look or a smile is worth much more. Most of the credit for this should go to Hrithik and Aishwarya who defy every existing idea about screen chemistry by making heartbeats race even through mundane acts such as walking side by side while glancing furtively at each other, or smiling in embarrassment as they sit miles apart in a garden. Who says old-fashioned romance is always boring? When two individuals are able to set silver-screens ablaze by just standing together in one frame, every trivial action becomes exciting.

Scattered in between their light-hearted romantic moments during this prolonged sequence are two ‘more important’ ones. The first one depicts Jalal in an angry mood as he admonishes Maham Anga’s son Adham Khan when the latter dares to insult Jodha; as his awe-inspiring authoritative ‘Khabardar Adham, Rajkumari ka naam adab se lo. Ye na bhulo ki ab wo Malika- e- Hindustaan hain’ echoes through the silent night and reaches Jodha, she understands the extent of his respect for her and there is an expression of happy pride on her countenance. The second is probably everyone’s guilty pleasure and inspired multiple ‘tele-serial adaptations’ back in the day; while Jalal practices moves with the sword bare-bodied, Jodha suddenly catches sight of his chiselled body and cannot stop staring. In a brilliant directorial move, Ashutosh makes her put the plate of worship down so that she can actually concentrate on the view better 😂😁🤩🤩. Aishwarya is terrific here, portraying Jodha’s attraction to her husband perfectly although in an extremely nuanced manner. Of course when the man in question is Hrithik Roshan, it helps. Jalal is shrewd enough to notice his ‘wifey dearest’ and catches her off guard by turning around suddenly after which the poor girl hastily draws the curtains. Hrithik’s mischievious look is a treat to eyes! But seriously, how mean of him to intrude upon his wife’s private moment of ‘adoring her husband’ that way?🤪🤪

Being one of the best directors in the industry, Ashutosh Gowarikar ensures that his film contains the right mix of romance and drama. The first instance of drama in the movie since the wedding is provided by Maham Anga, Jalal’s ‘Badi Ammi’ (played by the exceptional Ila Urun) a politically shrewd woman, whose possessiveness for her foster son and displeasure at the advent of a strong-willed intelligent Rajput princess into the fort of Agra makes her vindictive towards the said person. When Jodha decides to prepare authentic Rajput food herself after Jalal orders a ‘Rajputi Daawat’ on the day of ‘Peer’ in her honour, Maham Anga spews venom at her through harsh words and accuses her of trying to establish control over the kitchen, and eventually Jalal himself. Jodha, although shocked, gives her befitting replies, and ultimately completes the entire cooking by herself. The scene that follows could easily have been a disaster if it had been handled by an ordinary director; it could have been an excruciatingly slow and boring sequence testing the patience of the audience. The fact that it is one of the most interesting parts of the entire film is a measure of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s genius. Substantial credit must also be given to the actors including supporting ones without whom Ashutosh might not have been able to produce the desired outcome in this scene ultimately. However, this scene belongs to Aishwarya Rai Bachchan. Her shock at being insulted by Maham Anga when she asks her to taste the food before serving it to the emperor, rage as she turns to her husband for support, and suppressed anger as well as sadness when she realizes that there is no way out are nothing short of mesmerizing. Her genuine happiness when Jalal decides to have food from the same plate she has eaten and her sly look towards Maham Anga are a sight to behold. Truly, Aishwarya is probably one of the most underrated actresses in our industry; she is fantastic but does not always get the due credit for it. Most of the time, it is her beauty and personality that gets talked about. Nevertheless, she is a terrific actress too and we sincerely hope people acknowledge that more often. Hrithik supports her fascinatingly throughout the scene, his eyes showing anger, helplessness and embarrassment at his wife’s insult flawlessly. It is the mark of a great actor to allow his co-actors to soar when the scene requires so. In an old interview, while explaining why Aishwarya was his favourite co-star, Hrithik said that they had very similar working styles which made them more compatible with each other; according to him, both of them were more concerned with the larger picture, and did not care if they were being given importance in every frame or not. This particular scene is the perfect example of that working style he was talking about.

The ‘Rajputi Dawat’ sequence changes something between Jodha and Akbar; they have managed to cross that initial threshold of hesitation towards each other. However, just when they are gradually coming closer, circumstances and people pull them apart. When Adham Khan murders one of Jalal’s most trustworthy ministers, Shamsuddin-Muhammad-Atgah-Khan, and intrudes into the emperor’s personal premises with a sword, the latter tackles him and orders royal guards to throw the traitor with his head downwards into the ground below. When he is only half dead after the first fall, Jalal, showing his cruel side, orders his soldiers to bring Adham up to the roof so that they can throw him down again. Future generations will remember Hrithik for this scene among many; he is spectacular here with a stance that is completely majestic and a face that exudes rage and grief in equal measure. He was actually able to generate tangible fear amongst the audience back when the film had released; we still remember the collective gasp at the theatre during this scene. This is also the first time Jodha gets acquainted with Jalal’s darker side. Until this moment, she had known him as a gentle, understanding young man; now she sees him as capable of being cruel to someone. Aishwarya’s portrayal of fear is spot on and subtle with no melodrama whatsoever, for which the director also deserves praise.

The next scene had actually been deleted from the movie to manage its length but we genuinely feel it should have been included due to its significance. Horrified at Jalal’s action, Jodha confronts him in a terrific angsty sequence only to realize that Jalal is mourning the loss of a father figure in Shamsuddin-Muhammad-Atgah-Khan. Hrithik is superlative as Jalal breaks down and confesses to his wife about being orphaned again. This is the most tender moment both have yet experienced, and that realization is clearly etched upon Jodha’s face, who gives her heart-broken husband sound advice. She understands why he killed Adham, but asks him to apologize in front of Maham Anga, despite all the troubles the latter has created for her. We surely would not have minded sitting in the theatre for a few extra minutes to watch this brilliant scene Mr. Gowarikar!

The scene wherein Jalal explains his behaviour to Maham Anga is one of the most important sequences in the film for multiple reasons. Firstly, the acting is phenomenal; emotions have always been Hrithik’s forte and what do we say about Ila Urun? We are probably not qualified enough. So, its better to just bow our heads in respect and keep quiet. Second, this is when Maham Anga is able to instigate Jalal against Jodha by feeding him false information. She shows him a container of poison that her spy had extracted from Jodha’s personal belongings earlier and lies that his wife may be planning to harm him. In reality, Jodha’s mother had given her the poison so that she could kill herself if she feared of being dishonoured by her husband after the marriage. Maham Anga also misleads him by talking about a letter that Jodha has written to Rajkumar Ratan Singh, the Rajput prince, she had been betrothed to since her childhood. This letter had actually been written by Jodha to her cousin Sujamal, who had left Amer after being denied the throne. In the letter, Jodha had requested him to rescue her from being married off to the Mughal emperor. However, she had never sent it. After finding it in Jodha’s room, Maham Anga sends it to Sujamal, to take advantage of the situation and create a rift between Jalal and his wife. Unfortunately, this diabolical ploy works because of Jalal’s blind trust in his ‘Badi Ammi’. Upon receiving the letter, Sujamal believes it to be genuine, and goes to the Agra fort at night without caring about the risk. Jodha comes out to meet him, surprised at this sudden visit, but assures him that she is happy with Jalal. To her misfortune, her husband, who has never seen Sujamal or Ratan Singh before believes the intruder to be the latter and sends soldiers to capture him. Sujamal escapes, but only after thinking that Jodha deliberately called him there to be arrested. Meanwhile, Jalal accuses her of plotting with Ratan Singh behind his back. Outraged and shocked at this humiliation, Jodha tells him that Maham Anga is the one who has caused this entire misunderstanding. When Jalal refuses to believe her, she asks what punishment he has in mind. And, he tells her to go back to her parental house! Jodha naturally feels terribly insulted at his decision, and decides to leave him and protect her self-respect! This is a wonderfully executed sequence with the two leads reacting to each other masterfully, and turning it into one of the best angsty interactions ever. This was also the moment that Ashutosh chose as the point of intermission, a sound decision obviously because to be very honest, by this time the audience was indeed in need of some food and drinks 😄😄. On a serious note, this was a watershed moment in the lives of our two lead characters, and a perfect opportunity to take a break and come back refreshed.

Any analysis of Gowarikar’s Jodha Akbar is bound to be elaborate simply because it is impossible to designate any scene from the film as unimportant or bad. It is not for nothing that we termed this film a masterpiece at the beginning of this blog. Every second of it is still a pleasure to the senses and deserves mention. However, for the purpose of your sanity and ours (not to mention the time constraint), it is vital that we take an ‘interval’ too, and analyse the second part of the movie in a separate blog. Don’t worry, we will not take too long. So au revoir as the French say ; hopefully you will bestow your good wishes upon us once again like you have till now.❤️❤️