#falls to my knees and despairs sadly

[pingunaa]

hi 🤗🤗🤗🤗

how was brokeback!! did you have fun 🥰

YESS SO FUN!! WHAT A FUNNY MOVIE!

i had to take a moment and stare at my ceiling

[longtallglasses]

saw this post, original post from @jonathanbyersphd :) and wrote a little goodbye ritual. here on ao3

Will sadly plots his feet back down the stairs to the basement, just having received a devastating call home from his Mother.

Mike and Lucas sit beside each other on the rug near the bookshelf. They had all been playing with Mike’s toys for hours at this point, abandoning whatever they had been watching on the TV when they arrived.

He stands at the landing for a minute watching them, not knowing how to bring up this horrible news.

Mike seems to sense his presence and looks up, his brow furrowing at Will’s less-than-happy face, “Will? What’s wrong?”

Looking down at his feet, kicking them nervously, Will mumbles, “My mom just called. She’s coming to get me soon.”

“No!” Lucas begins to yell, but Mike quickly interrupts, overpowering his sentiment.

“What!” Mike exclaims, shooting up to run over to him, “Noo, no, no, you can’t go, we still haven’t fought off the forest warriors. We need you for that, we need our wizard!”

“I know,” Will says sadly, hating to see the despair take over Mike’s face. They were so close, so close to victory.

Mike quickly takes Will’s face in his hands, covering his ears to save him from Mike yelling, “Mom! Mom!”

They hear the telltale signs of Karen’s feet pattering through the kitchen. She opens up the basement door and looks down at them, “Michael, what are you yelling about?”

“Will can’t go! Call his Mom back, we need more time! It’s too early!” He shouts as he keeps his palms over Will’s eardrums.

Mrs. Wheeler sighs, looking down at his son’s astounding anguish over a friend leaving that he will no doubt see the next day. “It’s not too early. The Byers’ have something planned tonight, Will has to go, you’ll see him soon,” She says, trying to placate her distraught son.

“Noo!” Mike cries again.

“Michael. It’s final.” She states seriously and leaves the boys to mourn their loss.

Mike removes his hands from Will’s ears to wrap his arms around him, “You can’t go,” he whines.

From behind them Lucas rolls his eyes, as the third member of the group he’d grown quite accustomed to the antics of the other two when they inevitably had to say goodbye. He didn’t really understand it—the way they clung to each other and professed dramatic words about when they would next see each other. He feels no pull to perform such a show like they did.

Lucas watches on in un-amusement as Mike pulls away from Will, suddenly excited, “Your hat! Quick get your hat!”

Will’s face lights up, no longer looking as if he’s on his way to the gallows. running over to the couch to scrounge between the cushions looking for his wizard’s hat. Mike for his part, darts to their pile of costume pieces laying out, taking hold of his wooden sword and pretends to secure it in its holster under his arm.

“Will the Wise!” Mike calls out dramatically, puffing out his chest as Will finds his purple pointed wizard’s hat and pulls it over his head.

“Mike the Mighty!” Will calls back, standing on the couch and gazing across imaginary miles to his companion.

Lucas on the ground crosses his arms, settling down to begrudgingly watch the show. A show he’s watched almost everyday now this year since he became friends with the two.

“My wizard, I’ve searched for signs of your magic for a hundred miles now, and now we must part again so suddenly!” Mike falls to his knees, lowering his head to his chest.

“My paladin, I’ve been casting calls in the night to reach you, hoping you’d follow them and find me,” Will jumps down from the couch to approach Mike, who looks up at him, eyes sparkling, “But my prowess is needed elsewhere this evening, I must leave you now,”

Mike stands, bringing his sword up, and with a gallant swish bestows the wooden blade on each of Will’s shoulders, “I grant you my protection even in my absence. My dear friend, I will follow you to the ends of the land to keep you safe,”

A faint pink hue blossoms across Will’s cheeks, “And I you. My magic will always follow you,” Will tells him, taking the hold of Mike’s wrist that grips his sword, bringing them slightly closer, “If you are ever in danger I will be standing beside you. You have your shield?”

Sighing loudly, Lucas falls onto his back, picking up the toy dinosaur at his side and idly fiddling with its arms, patiently waiting for his friends to reach the end of this tired, tired, production.

“Yes!” Mike declares—he doesn’t actually—but he bolsters his arm out like it’s sheathed on his forearm.

Will places his hands on his arm, “Remember my magic lives in here too, if you are attacked I will be your shield,”

Nodding seriously, Mike places his hand over Will’s, “I remember. I could never forget.”

Lucas groans, “Are you guys done yet?”

“Silence Sundar!” Mike cries, keeping his eyes on Will, “my wizard is leaving me, I must say goodbye properly,”

Will smiles through a giggle, but composes himself, “Not leaving. This is not a goodbye my paladin,”

“No. You’re right, it’s not,” Mike agrees softly, “we will reunite quite soon,”

“And our adventures will continue,” Will finishes.

Mike smiles, “Please journey safely,”

“Will’s Mom isn’t even here yet,” Lucas complains.

Will’s hands grip Mike’s arm tighter, “I’ll be thinking of you with every step I take, and every spell I cast,”

Mike takes hold of his shoulder, “Every swing of my sword and every battle cry I yell will be for you, my wizard,”

“Oh my god,” Lucas moans, rolling over to bury his face in his arms.

The scene goes on for several minutes. The wizard and the paladin continue to recount the ways in which they will be with each other in their absence, how they will reunite, and how they will continue on stronger together than when they parted. Lucas, their ranger, having to bear witness in agony to the whole drama.

Finally a knock comes to the door of the basement. A ring of reprieve for the ranger, and a sounding of distress for the other two party members.

“Will, Joyce is here!” they hear Mrs. Wheeler call out to them.

The two mothers probably know the boys will not come so easily to those words, opening the door and taking a few steps down to survey the severity of this particular goodbye today.

Joyce stands with an amused grin a few steps up from the bottom landing, watching as the two boys scramble back to the other side of the room in hiding, “No!” They cry.

“Will, it’s time to say goodbye,” Joyce says, trying to sound light and positive.

“Mom, please just a bit longer,” Will begs, standing behind the arm of the couch with Mike, as if the small barrier would protect them.

Joyce sighs, “Will you know Grandma is visiting, we gotta go. You’ll see Mike tomorrow,” she reasons.

“But that’s forever away!” Mike cries, holding Will against him and pulling him behind him.

“Michael,” Karen cuts in, “Let your friend go,”

Mike shakes his head, defiant, grumbling, “Mm-mm,”

Watching on from his place on the floor, Lucas rolls his eyes for a third time in the last fifteen minutes.

“Mike,” Will says softly, “It’s okay, I will see you tomorrow,” giving in to make his friend feel better.

Mike turns to him in betrayal, “No wait, we haven’t finished our goodbye,” he tries desperately.

Will smiles, the finish, his favorite part. The part he imagines in his mind when he rests his head on his pillow at night.

It’s not anything crazy, but it’s the way they do it. Will nods, “Yeah, yeah, let’s finish,” he says.

Mike kneels again, placing a hand over his heart, “Until whence we meet again, Will the Wise, I’ll be preparing for our next adventure,” he looks up at Will, appearing strong in his sorrow.

Will mirrors the action, placing a hand over his own heart, “Until then, Mike the Mighty, my full strength won’t return until I see you,”

Outstretching his arm, Mike offers his hand palm up, which Will slides his into. Mike brings his hand to his lips, leaving the chastest kiss upon his knuckles.

Somewhere in the room the two women giggle at the show, and the ranger rolls his eyes for a fourth time. Yet the wizard and paladin pay them no mind, their gaze locked with their hands clasped.

Mike abruptly breaks the dramatics of the moment, leaping up from his knees, “Okay, bye!” he says jovially, as he engulfs Will in his arms into a tight hug.

“Bye,” Will whispers, squeezing back as hard as he can.

“Okay,” Karen sighs, “You’ve said your goodbye now,”

Mike sways them back and forth, pulling Will off his heels for a moment, “Bye,” he says again, quieter this time, just for Will’s ears.

Eventually Will and his Mother make their exit, leaving Mike and Lucas alone at last in the basement.

“Do you guys seriously have to do that every time?” Lucas asks, exasperated and exhausted from having to have had to live through the Mike and Will show once more.

Mike looks at him like he’s crazy, “Yes,” he answers indignantly.

“Why?”

“Because…” Mike thinks for a minute, “because our bond is just special, you wouldn’t understand,” he finishes with a shrug, but an apparent blush has appeared on his face.

Lucas shakes his head, “We seriously need a new party member,” he decides.

[elspethdekarios]

Atonement

Hello fellow Solavellan sufferers!!! I've written a little fic about what I imagine goes down between Solas and Lavellan once the game is over. I'll have you know I listened to the Lost Elf Theme on repeat while writing it, if that tells you anything. Anyway, read below the cut or on AO3 here!

SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,821

! HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS !

When she stepped into the Fade, hand in hand with her love, Sulah had no preconceived notion of what to expect on the other side, nor did she spend a moment speculating about what it could possibly be. She was with Solas, after all, and there was no use in trying to predict his actions. It was funny, really—how she found him predictable and surprising all in the same. No, there was little use trying to guess where in the Fade he would lead them. Nonetheless, she wasn't sure she would have ever expected this.

The pocket of the Fade they walked into was dull and gray as stone. In fact, most of it was stone. Fragments of buildings and debris floated slowly through the foggy sky above. Tendrils of winding roots grew up through cracks in the stone. There were staircases that seemed to lead to nowhere, and twisted, barren trees clinging to broken columns and walls. The air was so still it felt stifling in Sulah’s lungs. And Solas, downtrodden and bruised, looked like he belonged there. Like he was part of the backdrop. As if he could hear her thoughts, he spoke.

“It is a reflection of what I am. What I don't want to be.” He paused, dropping his head. “What I don't want to face.”

“This is how you atone?”

“I told you it would be terrible.”

“And I told you forever.” Sulah turned to him, heart aching for the bloodied mess of his face. “I meant it.”

Solas lifted his head enough to look at her through glassy, violet eyes. “I don’t deserve you, vhenan.”

“I think that’s up to me,” she said, wiping away a stray tear on his cheek. “Let’s talk, my love. Before you start making your amends.”

They sat with their backs against a nearby stone wall. Solas’s eyes alternated between being heavy with sleep and haunting despair. He looked so much older than she remembered him—not physically, really, but in the way he seemed to be held down with millennia of burden. On the other hand, he had the heartbreaking demeanor of a child unable to emotionally grasp the multitude of his feelings.

“I don’t know… where to start,” he breathed. With one look at her, a hint of hope glimmered amongst the sadness in his eyes. “I have missed you. Desperately so.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sulah’s voice cracked as she spoke, a stream of tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled sadly. “So let’s start there, shall we?”

His kiss tasted of salt and metal. She didn’t care about the wounds on his face or the small gash on his lip still swelling with blood. It had been a decade since she tasted him, touched him, spoke to him. Even though she knew he visited in her dreams, he never made contact—only watched, a dark figure in the distance. How she longed to reach out for him every time, to pull him close and find solace in his arms like she used to. Sulah crawled in front of him, her knees aching as they pressed into the cold stone, and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a brief hesitation, Solas rested his hands on her waist, his touch timid at first, like he was afraid of doing something wrong. But his touch grew more confident by the second, and soon his arms were wrapped around her so tight she could barely breathe. It felt as if a missing piece of her heart had been restored, held in place by molten gold.

“I don’t know that I can possibly tell you all of it. Perhaps I could… show you, instead.” With a single thought, Solas willed into the Fade a blue crystal statuette of a wolf, not unlike the one Sulah found when his ritual failed. He held it, concentrated on it, and its core radiated bright blue magic. He held the figure out to her. As Sulah took it from him, their destitute surroundings swirled and dissolved, leaving her in front of a young Solas. His face was not quite so worn with pain and exhaustion like the one she knew. Long, auburn hair cascaded down the center of his head, falling over his shoulder as he turned to face the other elf in front of him.

“Solas, how could you?” the other elf asked. His skin was tan, his hair was dark, and his face was marked with Mythal’s branching vallaslin. The same branches that Sulah had tattooed underneath her eyes.

“I do not expect you to understand, Felassan,” Solas said, standing tall and proud as ever. “It was necessary for the enemy to believe we were committed. A heavy sacrifice, but one that gave us a real chance to end the war.”

“You knowingly sent those spirits to their deaths!” Felassan shouted. “We’re supposed to be better than this.”

Felassan spoke to Solas with the intimacy and confidence of a close friend, unafraid to confront his wrongdoings. Sulah could make out a hint of remorse in Solas’s eyes before his face hardened into a scowl.

“I did what had to be done.”

The scene dissipated. Ruins were replaced with the glorious landscape of ancient Arlathan, sprawling greenery among grand, floating palaces. Solas argued with an elven woman who Sulah now recognized as Mythal. She was identical to the spirit fragment she had seen before stepping into the Fade with Solas, only solid and real. The words they spoke were jumbled, as if Solas couldn’t remember the exact things said when he transferred the memory to the statue, but Sulah knew what they were discussing all the same: the Blight. Solas protested, pleaded with Mythal, before finally giving in to her demands.

“I will follow you always,” he said. Sulah had never heard him sound so defeated. A distinct and overwhelming sense of shame settled over her as the scene faded.

The memories continued like this, one after the other, each one brief but enough to show her the actions that haunted him. And enough to leave her with thousands of questions. She saw his regrets from centuries ago—memories of Mythal, Elgern’an, Ghilan’nain, the other Evanuris. She saw him destroy the legacy of the titans, and the corruption that introduced the Blight to the world. She saw his sorrow at the creation of the Veil, the loss of the world he knew, the unbreakable tether he had to Mythal, similar to a commandeering mother and a child eager to please her, desperate for her approval. She saw his plans to give Corypheus the orb go awry, the conflict raging inside of him as he fell in love with Sulah, the way he almost told her the truth that night in Crestwood. She felt the guilt he carried afterwards—that he still carried. She saw him devise his devious plan to mold Rook into someone the prison would take in his place. His betrayal and desperation.

She saw the despair in his eyes when he killed Varric.

Sulah stood on the raised platform where Solas orchestrated his ritual, watching as Varric climbed the stairs in an attempt to stop his friend. Even in a memory, the air was charged with powerful magic, culminating in a swirling wind that blew her hair into her face, obscuring her view. She could only make out fragments of the argument.

“You need to listen—”

“You have come a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric—”

“—able to give me a straight answer—”

“—rather than admit this is mine to solve—”

“—who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

Varric’s last statement stung like a knife. His words echoed as time slowed. Sulah felt the heavy burden of self doubt imbued in Solas’s memory as the two men locked eyes, their argument hanging in the air between them. In a chaotic flash, several things happened: Solas turned to continue the ritual, Varric attempted to pry the lyrium dagger from Solas’s hands, and the monuments of the Evanuris surrounding the ritual site began to fall. Somewhere in the chaos, while wrenching the dagger back from Varric’s grasp, the blade pierced through his chest. The sound of ripping flesh. The gasp from Varric’s mouth.

“NO!” Sulah shouted. Time had slowed, and she rushed to catch him as he stumbled, forgetting that it was no use. Her arms moved through him like a ghost.

Solas watched his friend fall to the bottom of the stairs, regret bubbling up inside of him at what he’d done. And still, the sense of doubt from Varric’s words lingered, sullying Solas’s certainty as innocent blood seeped through the fabric of his gloves.

He steeled himself with cold resolve and turned away.

The gray of the Fade prison came back into view. Sulah felt like she had been in Solas’s memories for hours, but neither her body nor his had moved from the ground against the wall. He watched her with bated breath, his jaw clenched, eyes glossy with fresh tears. Moments ago, she watched him command a rebellion, steadfast and resolute and proud. A powerful god among mortals. But the Solas in front of her now held little of the immense ancient spirit she’d seen. He was only a man, broken from the weight of his regrets.

“I cannot ask for your forgiveness, vhenan. Not even your understanding.” His voice broke, his next words spoken through a sob. “I am so sorry that I let you fall in love with a monster.”

Solas hugged his knees to his chest. His hands shook and his body trembled as he cried. It was pure, raw, searing emotion—and it was the first time she had ever seen him lose control of himself. Sulah had been lonely for years, yearning for the man who felt like home while sleeping cold in an empty bed, but she’d never felt as alone as she felt now, sitting in the vast emptiness of the Fade with a god shedding centuries’ worth of repressed agony that she could never possibly comprehend. He was the one who always seemed to know what to do, who had a plan for everything. He was the one more familiar with the Fade than the waking world. But he was also the one who had to face his regrets. His pain. And he had already proven that he couldn’t do that on his own.

“Solas,” she said, quiet and sad. “You killed Varric.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked through tears.

“I… I knew he was gone, but no one…” she trailed off, thinking back to the letter she received from Morrigan shortly after she met Rook and the others. Varric was gravely injured in an altercation. He did not make it. I am sorry you have to find out this way. “No one told me it was by your hand.”

“They were protecting you,” he said. “From the truth of what I am. Perhaps they shouldn’t have done so.”

Sulah sat in silence, trying to piece it all together in her mind.

“I never meant to hurt Varric,” Solas whispered. “I have harmed so many people, innocent people, and Varric… Varric….”

He stopped speaking and rested his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall on his armor.

“My love—”

“How can you possibly still love me, Sulah?” he snapped, a wolf showing his fangs. “I deserve whatever cruel fate awaits me here. You do not.”

“Solas—”

“Would you truly—”

“Let me speak,” she said, stern and commanding. Her Inquisitor voice, the other members liked to call it. It worked. Solas nodded for her to continue. “To heal from your past, you have to confront it. It will be painful, but you must. Tell me about Varric.”

Solas sighed and let his head fall back to the wall, the apex of his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Varric was a good man. He was my friend.” He closed his eyes and Sulah watched as a single tear ran down his bloodied face. She tried to hold back her own tears, but they streamed warm down her cheeks nonetheless.

“What would you say to him if he were here?”

“That it is one of my greatest regrets, one that I desperately wish I could take back. That I enjoyed his company on our journey years ago, and that I have missed him in the years since. And that I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Like a prayer, the final words escaped Solas’s mouth in a despondent whisper. In the distance, a structure resembling the skyline of Kirkwall crumbled. Sulah recognized it from her visit several years ago. She had only made it to Kirkwall once in the time that Varric was viscount, a position he reluctantly accepted, but one that she always suspected he secretly enjoyed. He took her to the cliffs of Sundermount, where Dalish sometimes set up camp. It looked remarkably like the area of the Free Marches her clan frequented before she left.

“I thought it might remind you of home”, he had said.

“I came here to see* your *home, Varric.”

“We’re doing that too.” he pointed across the water to the silhouetted, square buildings.

She smiled at the memory and let herself cry as the Kirkwall replica became an avalanche of stone plummeting into the abyss. When its final, broken pieces fell, Solas turned back to her and took a long breath. She looked at him, attempting to reconcile the Solas she knew and loved, the Solas in front of her now, with the Solas she saw in his memories. There was a cruel pride deep inside of him, one he tried to keep from her for so long. She could see it now, and it was fractured.

How could she possibly come to terms with all he had done? He had taken Varric away from this world, a man who, despite his faults, brought hope and friendship and humor into the world around him. She could feel the empty, aching shells of all the hearts who missed him—including her own. There were more adventures to be had, more books to be written, and Solas took it away. Away from Varric, away from the world. Sulah couldn’t bring herself to consider the even larger things he had done. The man she loved was responsible for the Blight. He tranquilized the Titans. He murdered his friends—sometimes on accident, sometimes for what he considered betrayal.

Sulah steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the air flowing in and out of her lungs. She let the world fall away until she could feel nothing but the essence of her soul spreading into her limbs, making her weightless. If Solas was a spirit of wisdom, what was she, deep down? A word stirred somewhere in the depths of her heart: patience.

“This is going to take a long time, vhenan.” Solas’s words roused her from contemplation.

“Yes,” she said. “For both of us, I think.”

For the first time since reuniting, he touched her of his own accord, studying her prosthetic arm with gentle fingers before resting his hand on her thigh beside it.

“It’s a good thing time doesn’t exist in the Fade, then.” Sulah placed her remaining hand on top of his. “To answer your earlier question, I choose to still love you despite your mistakes, Solas. I love you because I tried to move on, to meet other people, but none of them could touch whatever piece of my soul that you do. Every person I tried to give my heart to was a flimsy bandage over a gaping wound. And I had to reconcile with myself that I love someone who would tear the world apart for his own stubborn pride. I know your heart, Solas. You are more than your mistakes.”

Sulah felt as if a small part of the rift between them had stitched itself back together; a fragile scar translucent and deep, but healing nonetheless. For a moment, the insurmountable hurdles she would have to help him overcome fell away. It was just the two of them, together in the Fade like all those years ago. She knew how the world would see them: the lovestruck Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. The cautionary tale of a Dalish girl who fell right into the jaws of Fen’Harel himself.

“Sulah,” Solas reached for her face with both hands, holding her like he had to be sure she wasn’t a mere reflection of his desire. “As long as you will have me, I swear to you: I will never abandon you again. You will have me, always.”

His kiss was soft, but charged with intention. Devotion. As they broke apart, he pulled Sulah into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Bellanaris.”

[janasrdhr]

Are you tired, Jason? - Jason Todd

──────────────────────

Warning(s): Angst?

──────────────────────

The subdued illumination within the church accentuates your aura of sanctity.

“Why?” Jason inquires with a quivering voice. “Why didn't he respond to my prayers?”

Your majestic wings are unfurled before him. During his captivity under Joker's cruel grip, this was the vision that haunted him: a divine saviour, whether it be God, Bruce, or anyone else, coming to his rescue. Jason's clenched fist crashes onto the ground, causing his knuckles to bleed, yet he remains unfazed.

You are an Angel, and yet, you also did not heed his call. If God truly exists, could it be that Jason simply did not merit salvation?

You grace the moment with a beautiful smile, descending like a delicate feather to caress his cheek, “All is done in due time.”

Your presence brings Jason to tears.

“Can…can you really hear me?”

Jason is a mess. He feels like he’s been in hell for months, but to be seen and recognized by an Angel has brought him to his knees.

“I did so much wrong,” Jason choked out. “Did he ever hear my pleas for help?”

You guide him to his knees, cradling his head against your chest, “In a world where so many stray from the path of righteousness in the name of justice, the Holy One's pleas for understanding remain unanswered, eternally unheard.”

Jason cries, head buried in your chest. You’re warm, so comforting. But your words ring true: he did so much wrong in the name of right.

“Can I ever be forgiven?” Jason asks. “Can I ever truly be redeemed?”

You delicately cleanse away the blood and grime from his face, your smile a graceful enigma. “The answer,” you whisper, placing your hand upon his chest, “lies within the cadence of your actions.”

“But is he real?” Jason asks in despair. “Does he even hear me?”

Jason’s eyes meet yours, filled with anguish.

“Of course, he is real. He dwells within every breath you draw, every tear you shed, every drop of sweat that glistens on your brow, every peal of laughter that escapes your lips, and every beat of the blood coursing through your veins. He is none other than your very essence.”

“No, I’m nothing like him,” Jason says sadly. “I’m a monster. He’s perfect.”

Tears streak his face. He feels lost, broken, and in the presence of a divine being.

You laugh, your hair cascading gracefully as you brush the ground beneath you, where flowers bloom in all their imperfect beauty. “Imperfection,” you muse, “is akin to perfection, my child. Just as he is, just as his choices are, and just as you are yourself.”

Jason feels the weight of those words. Perfection being imperfect, and God being imperfect. How can that be true?

Jason looks up at you.

“Are you him?” Jason asks softly.

You gently trace your fingers across Jason's face, causing his eyelids to flutter close, a knowing smile graces your lips as you opt to remain silent.

Jason experiences the gentle touch of your hand upon his face, a sensation as comforting as a sunbeam's embrace. A divine warmth envelops him, and in that moment, he finds serenity, prompting him to open his eyes and behold your presence.

Jason looks lost in your eyes. How could one have ever created such an entity?

How could he be worthy of something so perfect?

“Why are you here?” Jason whispers. “Why me?”

You smile, “I am a mere thread woven into the tapestry of existence, a part of everyone and everything. The very air you nourish, the blood that flows, the tears that fall, the laughter that echoes, and the prayers that ascend. You are no different, my child.”

Jason is a bit taken aback by your words. You are part of everything? Part of him? And he is part of you?

“If you are here, that means he is listening to me, right?” Jason asks..

“I hear you, don't I?” You chuckle.

Jason nods in the dark. The candlelight caresses your hair, giving it a golden sheen. Your eyes sparkle, radiating beauty.

Jason feels as though anything is possible.

“Does that mean…does that mean I can be redeemed?” Jason whispers.

“That, my child, is in your hands,” you say with a gentle smile, your touch tracing his cheek like a whispered promise.

Jason's fingers graze your hand as it caresses his cheek, the reality of your presence seeming almost surreal, like a reverie.

“What should I do next?” Jason implores, his desire to make amends and seek forgiveness from a higher power burning within him. “I yearn for my words to reach God's ears.”

You release a weary sigh, gently closing your eyes.

Jason envelops you in a fierce yet tender embrace, his arms encircling your form with an unwavering grip. You sense the tremors coursing through him, a stark departure from the Jason Todd you once knew.

Jason's voice quivers, breaking like fragile glass.

“I’m scared,” Jason whispers.

You catch your breath for a moment, a smile dancing across your lips as you embrace him, your arms encircling him like a comforting shroud. “Do not fret,” you whisper, brushing his hair tenderly. “After all, am I not your mother?”

“My mother…” Jason murmurs.

You’re warm, loving. Jason craves this intimacy.

“Yes, you’re my mother,” Jason replies. He’s almost in tears.

He can feel his emotions flowing through him, and they are overwhelming.

You hush him with a soothing gesture, rocking him gently like a fragile vessel on calm waters.

Jason clings to you as though you are his lifeline as if releasing you would shatter the fragile illusion around him.

You sway him tenderly, your presence a balm to his troubled soul. Jason shuts his eyes, savouring the sensation, wondering if this is the ethereal touch of a mother's love, a feeling long yearned for.

You’re his mother.

Jason squeezes you tighter, tears streaming down his face. The sensation of a mother’s touch is beyond words.

“Can I stay here?” Jason asks. “With you. Always.”

“Jason, I've been a constant presence in your life,” you say, your words a comforting anchor in the tumultuous sea of his existence.

“Is it true, ma?” Jason asks, still clinging to you.

He wants to believe your words with all his heart. All he has ever wanted is to be loved.

“You love me?” Jason whispers.

��I will endure for eternity, in every conceivable universe,” you murmur softly, your words brushing across his soul like a gentle caress, sealing the promise with a tender kiss upon his forehead.

Jason's heart soars, an unfamiliar warmth flooding his senses. Throughout the long years of his agonizing existence, this emotion has eluded him—never has he experienced such profound love and solace. He realizes with unwavering certainty, “You're my mother.”

With his head nestled against your shoulder and eyes gently shut, Jason finally basks in the embrace of love and solace he has long yearned for.

“Are you tired, Jason?” you inquire, lowering him gently to the ground. Your arms cradle his form, and your wings wrap around him like a protective cocoon, offering solace and shelter.

“So tired, ma,” Jason says as he closes his eyes. His body seems so small next to yours, and he feels as though he is truly returning to a womb. He feels safe, loved, and peaceful.

The torment is gone. It’s just him and you now.

“Then surrender to slumber, my child… let joyful dreams be your refuge,” you murmur tenderly as you rock him, your touch tracing the path of his scars, each mark a story etched in his journey.

“What if I never wake up?” Jason whispers.

Your caress is so sweet, so tender.

“Don’t leave me, ma,” Jason murmurs. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” There is so much he wants to tell you, so much he wants to cry about.

“I don’t want to die,” Jason cries, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Can I ask for one thing before I close my eyes, ma?”

“Whatever you desire,” your hushed words a gentle breeze ready to carry the weight of all 7 seas.

Jason looks up at you, his eyes raw. He holds on with all the strength he has left. He can feel himself wanting to let go, to let sleep wash over him. But his eyes remain open.

“Stay with me, ma.”

“Forever my angel,” you whisper with a tender smile, resting your head against his as he draws his final breath in your embrace. A solitary tear descends down your cheek, an eloquent tribute to the moments shared.

Jason’s breathing grows shallow. His eyes flutter closed. He holds you, and he knows that you are with him as he closes his eyes.

You can feel him drift away from consciousness, as he drifts into sleep and finally…peace.

You hold him, and you hold the love of a mother. It’s a feeling he knew he would never feel again, and yet…you are with him.

“Rest, my child,” you whisper, the echoes of your words spanning eternities. With a serene smile, you cradle Jason in your embrace, a timeless lullaby at heart.

Time slows as Jason relaxes, his eyes finally closed as sleep envelopes him. He is no longer Jason Todd, haunted by fear and pain.

He is Jason, your beloved son, asleep and at peace in your arms.

──────────────────────

masterlist - dc masterlist

© All content on this writing blog is subject to copyright protection; unauthorized reproduction or distribution of any material without permission is prohibited.

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Please enjoy me putting all of my emotions from when Martin Septim died into writing through a self insert OC where I scream at the Nine Divines because I can’t scream at Todd Howard.

Just a little further. Just a little longer. If he just moves faster, if he kills a few more Daedra, if he stays by Martins side… Velentius roared, tears stinging his eyes as he hacked and slashed through the invading forces, Magic coursing around him as sparks flew in every direction. His sword slides through a chink in the armor, but refuses to come out, he falls. On his knees, Velentius looks up and seeing a Xivilai swinging his sword down at him, but is blasted away by a burst of magic. Hands help him stand, one arm around his waist, the other firm against his chest.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be guarding you.” He said, his tone light despite the situation. Martin smiled at him, his lips curling up in mirth. Velentius grabbed the Xivilai’s sword, fighting alongside Martin as they approached the Temple. Almost there, almost there, almost there, almost there! He can save him, he can save him, he can save him, he can save him! Velentius feels as hope fills his chest, his sword swinging with a renewed vigor as they get closer, closer, closer, just a little further! And then… two red feet, four red arms, an axe, claws, and an ugly snarl.

“No.” He cries, feeling his chest tighten. “We have to get inside the temple! Now!” Martin yells, rushing past Velentius. Velentius raced after Martin, his entire body heating up as his chest tightened and the familiar sense of dread returned. Slamming the doors behind him, Velentius set the bar in place and turned to Martin, who shook his head sadly. “No.” He said, walking towards the man. “Don’t you even think about it! There has to be another way!” He said, grabbing the emperors shoulder and turning his to face Velentius.

“The time has come, my friend. I must to what I must do. I can not stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task falls to others.” Martin said, Velentius shaking his firmly. “No. Don’t you dare!” He yelled, his grip on Martins shoulder tightening. “Farewell. You’ve been a good friend, in the short time that I’ve known you.” Velentius began to cry, his breathing picking up as his body shook. “But now I must go. The Dragon waits.” Martin pulled himself from Velentius’ grip, stepping onto the pedestal. Kiss him, do it now. You know you’ll never get the chance again. But he couldn’t move. Hugging himself, Velentius screamed a bloodcurdling scream as Martins body exploded, Dagon smashing through the roof.

He fell to his knees, head buried in his lap as he heard the fight happening in front of him. One final roar, stone cracking, and then… nothing. He sat there, the silence around him felt like a suffocating weight threatening to crush him. And then, footsteps. 9 pairs of feet walking up from behind him. He looked up, his despair quickly turning into hatred as he reached his hand out and grasp the sword that had fallen in front of him. Whirling around, his blade was resting an inch away from the man’s throat.

“We both know that would do anything.” Akatosh said, eyes narrowed. “Why?” Velentius growled, tears running down his face. The other Divines watched from the sides with a rainbow of emotions on their faces. “Why won’t the sword work?” Akatosh asked with a curious smirk. “WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME WHEN I COULDNT DO ANYTHING?!” He yelled, dropping the sword and falling to his knees, his hands tugging at his hair. “Velentius, we showed you so you could prepare.” Julianos said, stepping forward.

“Prepare? Prepare?! Prepare what?! His funeral shroud?!” Velentius yelled, looking up at the gods with tear stained eyes. “Perhaps… perhaps the mortal is right.” Dibella spoke up, stepping towards Velentius with her moth wings dragging behind her like a cape. “Dibella, be serious.” Talos crossed his arms, standing behind Akatosh. “I am serious, scum. We put him through unnecessary pain and false hope. How are we any better than the Daedra?” She asked, Akatosh and Julianos tensing.

“She’s right.” Mara stepped forward, one hand resting on her stomach while the other hung by her side. “We caused this child so much pain. And for what? Nothing came of it that wouldn’t have without it.” Mara said, placing her hand on his other shoulder. “Those visions never should have happened. They weren’t supposed to and you know it.” Kynareth growled at the dragon-god, stepping behind Velentius, her own wings ruffling. “Don’t be ridiculous! If we hadn’t shown those vision, he wouldn’t have fought as valiantly as he had! The Empire would have crumbled, my Empire would have crumbled!” Talos yelled, the three women glaring daggers at the once-mortal.

“Look around you! ‘Your’ Empire has already fallen. There are no Septims! There are no Dragonborns!” Kynareth yelled, motioning to the ruins around her. “Not yet. But soon.” Akatosh said, holding up an hourglass. Kynareths form flickered for a second, turning into what looked like a harpy with a crown made of lightning, before returning back to herself. “That won’t happen for another 200 years, Akatosh.” Mara said, rubbing circles on Velentius’s back. He gripped his knees as the gods around his kept talking about something that hasn’t happened yet, and won’t die 200 years apparently.

“Stop.” He said, Stendarr sending his a questioning glance. “Stop.” He said again, this time catching Arkay’s eye. “Stop!” He yelled, all of the gods in attendance shutting their mouth and looking at him as he stood. “You… you… you dare! You haunt me for weeks with visions of Martins death. You watch me as I do everything I can to stop it! You watch as I cry at night, trying to stay awake so I won’t have to watch it again, and again, and again! Over and over and over!”

He yelled, gripping his head tightly. He could feel more spirits enter the temple, minor gods watching as their rulers were reprimanded by a mortal. “I got Azuras Star, I got Tiber Septims armor, I got the Welkynd Stone, I got the gods damned Sigil Stone! I saved every city! I closed every gate! I killed Mankar Camoran! I retrieved the stupid fucking necklace! I saved Martin from the ruins of Kvatch! I got him to Ocato! I got him to the Temple! And it all meant NOTHING!” He roared, tears streaming down his face as he stood only inches from the Dragon-God of Time.

“You made me suffer for months. Before I even met Martin. I was scared to sleep at night because I would see him die and not even get to say goodbye! All because you wanted me to be this great Champion.” Velentius sobbed, fists bald tightly. “The visions were to be motivation, so you would know what you were fighting tow…” The room was deathly silent as Velentius’s fist made contact with Talos’ face. “Shut. Up.” He growled, glaring at the shocked man-god. “None of you deserved his life. None of you deserved his death! He was twice the man any of you will ever be!” He yelled out, looking at all of the gods in attendance.

The Divines, minor gods, saints, spirits of nature, even some elven ones he couldn’t place a name to right now. “You know what I was thinking when I brought him to the temple? I was just being the lamb to slaughter. But I can see that I was wrong. Martin wasn’t a lamb, and this… isn’t a slaughterhouse. Killing a lamb serves a purpose. Martins sacrifice? Didn’t.” Velentius let out a whimper, once again falling to his knees. He heard the sound of air moving, feeling as one by one, the gods in the room left, until finally he was alone.

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

He was in that room for 2 days before they could finally get inside. The doors split open, the Blades, Imperial Guards, and Ocato all rushing in. Velentius was curled into a ball under Martins statue. He wasn’t crying. He ran out of tears after the first 4 hours. He hasn’t slept. Hasn’t eaten. Hasn’t moved. Jauffre and Baurus helped to get him out of the temple, Ocato rattling on and on about how Velentius was to be named Champion of Cyrodiil, and how brave Martin was. A hero. A savior. Velentius moved on his own for the first time in two days, which resulted in Ocato sitting on the steps of the temple with a bleeding nose. He received no bounty, no legal issues, it was chalked up to exhaustion, hunger, dehydration, and grief.

[chickensoup1025]

Kaito and Kokichi in the hangar drabble

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Death

Kaito had his hand on the stair railing but stopped and shook with grief. "I-I can't..."

"You have to Kaito. You have to kill me." Kokichi wasn't looking at him, just standing next to the hydraulic press, looking sadly at it and running his fingers along the fabric of Kaito's jacket. The hole in the sleeve from the poisoned arrow hurt to look at. Kaito was shot because of him. It doesn't matter if he tries to blame Maki. It's his fault, too.

So much was his fault.

Kokichi didn't realize tears were falling down his face until a teardrop landed on his outstretched hand. "You have to."

"No one deserves to die." Kaito would've normally put much more effort into his words but his sickness made even walking hard. He turned to the smaller boy. "I don't want to kill you..."

"I want you to."

It felt like cold water was thrown in Kaito's face. "You- what?"

Kokichi's face crumpled into one of anguish and he dropped to his knees.

Kaito rushed over, sinking to the ground as well and awkwardly hovered his hands over the other. "When you say you want to- are-"

"Yes, Kaito. I- I-" Kokichi could barely speak through his sobs. "I want to die..."

"No- no no no no no- Why!? I thought you were so obsessed with surviving the killing game! What happened?"

Kokichi tried to catch his breath but only barely could. "Remember G-" another sob racked through his body." "Gonta- his trial?"

Kaito frowned deeply. He would never forget that trial. Anger started to bubble in him from just remembering it. But the tears he watched stream down his rival's face doused the flames somewhat.

"Well, do you know why there was even a trial? Why I didn't just sell out G- him at the start?" Thankfully it didn't seem like Kokichi was looking for an answer as Kaito wouldn't have been able to give one anyway. "Because I wanted our plan to work. I wanted him to survive the trial."

"What?" Kaito breathed out.

"I agreed with his reasons. They were my reasons. Mercy. I believed you would all rather die not knowing the true despair of the outside world. That you all deserved to stay ignorant like I wish I could have. But. In the end I backed out of the plan and Gonta was executed. I was a coward. I was a coward when I asked Monokuma to execute me as well.

"I tried to run away without doing anything or finishing any of my work. I feel like a coward now for asking you to do this but this is the only way. And at least I can help you all, too. I don't want to die, Kaito," their eyes met and Kaito's heart broke. "But I also want to. Really really want to finally stop all this. And I deserve to die. I deserved to be executed instead of Gonta. Because I kept hurting all of you, saying it was for the greater good but the killing game is still happening. I tried to kill all of you so I deserve it-!"

Kokichi couldn't talk anymore as Kaito pulled him into a strong hug, mindful of their injuries, and he couldn't stop his tears. Kaito felt his own eyes burn and his gaze go blurry.

After a few minutes, Kaito coughed loudly and harshly enough to remind them that their time was running out. Kokichi wiped the snot from his nose but didn't bother with his tear stained cheeks.

"I'm s-" Kaito started but Kokichi interrupted him.

"Don't say you're sorry. It's all true. And it won't matter soon anyway." He glanced up at the hydraulic press then met his eyes again. "It's time."

Kaito took a deep breath. "Okay."

When Kaito was up, ready with the camera and control panel, he saw Kokichi climb underneath. The last thing he saw of Kokichi before he was reduced to an explosion of blood was an expression full of fear, but also relief.

[holly-fixation]

A Divine Plan: Part 2

Summary: Sephiroth, after his Remnants failed, pulled himself back through the lifestream for one more attempt at dragging Cloud to his knees. By accident, in his search for something desperate and weak, he pulled out two: the blonde just after experimentation began, and himself as he began reading the false truths below Shinra manor. With these two captured, he couldn’t help but wonder ‘why rule the universe as just one god?’ Why not break his former self into something useful for him and Mother while slowly torturing the boy?

The better question: why not? 

Inspired by @altocat and @errantnight in this post. (Warning: The post spoils everything once you get to the second reblog)

...

A few moments passed after their captor vanished before either of them dared to speak. Cloud clutched his shoulder and turned slightly away from the silver soldier. Sephiroth gave him time to adjust, but he also looked the boy over to be sure he had no open wounds. Cloud’s shoulder was probably bruised, which was much easier to wait out than a broken bone. Judging by how he was moving, that assumption could be fact. 

“...what am I supposed to know…?” Sephiroth asked softly, earning a concerned glare. He turned away. 

Cloud took a deep breath before looking at one of the walls. “You…-”

“What happened after I went to the basement of Shinra Manor…?” He specified a place for the boy to start. 

Another breath. “You spent days down there, reading all their books. You never slept. You didn’t eat. The lights in the basement never went out. And then…”

Sephiroth waited silently.

Cloud shook his head, going quiet for a few seconds.

The silver soldier sighed. He gave the boy a moment before speaking sadly, not a single word stabbing through, only utter despair in his deep voice, “I don't understand why this is painful for you…” He was the one with his world falling apart. He was the one who knew he Wasn’t. Even. Human. 

Despite the intention, it gave the boy enough flames to burn the truth out of his throat, to scar the truth on Sephiroth's mind. “You burned my home to the ground. You killed my mother. You tried to kill…” He turned away, growing quiet again as his memories attacked him. 

Sephiroth sat still as a statue, waiting for the cadet to explain in his own time. They absolutely still had time. No where close to an hour had passed. 

“You were chasing after… something. You didn't say what you found in those books. You only killed everyone as a result.”

The silver soldier looked down, both to hide from the boy’s gaze and to scan the ground for any cracks or weaknesses to use to their advantage. “...How did you kill me?”

Cloud went silent, terrified of answering the question. 

Inhuman eyes flicked to the tube leading to the shattered glass of a freed creature. “You said it was there, correct…?”

The cadet nodded. 

“In this room bearing my mother’s name…?” His voice nearly cracked from the painful implications alone. 

The boy swallowed hard, thinking very carefully about the words leaving his mouth, “There was a creature in that tank… You kept calling it ‘Mother’... But it was just the corpse of a monster that barely looked human…” He steeled his gaze to the Silver Soldier. “You lost your mind. And you acted… exactly like he did…”

“You say that like I become a different person.”

“...you do…” The statement stung them both. “Something tells me Zack knew that too…”

Zack. Sephiroth hadn't even thought of his comrade. Though now, he was genuinely thankful that wherever the puppy was, it was hopefully better than this. 

Cloud's explanation continued anxiously, hesitantly, for the remaining hour. The burning of Nibelheim. The people he killed. The creature he decapitated. The stab through his heart in one last attempt to drag him down to the abyss of failure. Everything. Sephiroth needed to understand each detail, but he found himself subconsciously denying the more… other worldly and unnatural changes. 

Monster. Ancient. Cetra. Human. It didn't matter what he was biologically, not this much. Not enough to justify suddenly burning the village down without direct orders from Shinra. Not without another force. In theory. 

Cloud mentioned he talked to himself during the fire and the murders, calling out to a faceless creature. 

What could that possibly be…? 

He wasn't given long because the corrupted doppelganger appeared before them once again. Sephiroth immediately stood protectively in front of the cadet, and the cadet barely moved as he pushed his back to the wall and tried to keep his eyes on the maniac. 

“Do you understand now?” Gods that voice was far too calm and controlled, mocking them with its existence alone.

“I know what you did,” He spoke harshly, not allowing a hint of emotion to infect his words, concealing all weakness in any way he could. “What I would do if I read those reports, but… That doesn’t justify what you’ve become.”

The other one chuckled, its voice mocking as if speaking to a child. “Of course it doesn’t.” 

What? He couldn’t stop his confusion. Even if all he did was knot his brows ever so slightly, he couldn’t hide it from himself. 

“Those invasive reports and data collections of ‘The Jenova Project’ were mere embers. They didn’t ignite the flame.”

Cloud gave the one protecting him a concerned and confused look. 

“Ah.” The doppelganger called their attention back. “You don’t have those memories yet, do you, Cloud?”

The words ‘I don’t know’ strayed completely from his tongue and all he could do was shake his head in denial. ‘Those memories’? Like they were separate from his own?

“On the seventh day in the manor, Mother spoke.”

Spoke?

“And for the first time in years, everything became clear. The goal to save her. Our plans for the planet. The waste of space to trudge through to get to her. The village that let her suffer.” The fond look in its eyes was terrifying as it slowly locked onto Sephiroth. “I know you can put the rest together. With time.”

He stared back with bewilderment in his cat-like eyes. He couldn’t make complete sense of anything this copy threw at him. 

“Until then, I believe the young cadet accomplished his task.” A long katana appeared in its hand and it casually tossed the weapon to its younger self. 

He caught the blade without hesitation, instantly feeling the incorrect weight distribution. Its sharpness was greatly lacking, and the length wasn’t straightened either. This was not his blade. He’d barely consider it a sword at all.

“I’ll give you a choice.” Both the SOLDIER and the cadet held their breaths. “Either I all but tear the boy apart in two minutes, or you torture him for five.”

Cloud instantly curled up, cowering away from both silver soldiers. 

Sephiroth tried not to portray his thoughts. He knew he was perfectly capable of killing Cloud without a weapon. Physically capable. If this thing’s goal was to break them, longer sessions of torture could expedite the process. Cloud was only a cadet. He wasn’t trained with any kind of mental fortitude against attacks like this. But was he willing to take the risk that Cloud could recover with a blade in less time than this dark copy could barehanded in two?

“Do it…” Cloud spoke weakly, his head down and away as he hid from their coming reactions. “Two minutes… I can make it…”

Sephiroth’s eyes immediately snapped to the boy. “The shortened time will not protect you-”

“It’ll be less…” 

“No, it won’t. I refuse to let you-”

“So you’ve made up your mind?” The monster didn't even acknowledge Cloud's input. Only Sephiroth was left to make the decision. 

Cloud would hate him after this if he went against his wishes. He couldn't afford to make any new enemies. He needed Cloud on his side, even as a liability. This boy was the only ally he had. 

A slow grin curled on the dopple's face the moment it realized his choice. Yet it waited for a verbal answer before approaching the boy. 

* * * 

Sephiroth refused to play the madman’s game. He protected Cloud every moment he was on his feet, despite the ease with which this monster threw him down. Thank the gods it seemed to keep its word. It truly did leave after only the short time it arranged. 

Thus its pattern began. 

It appeared. It taunted them. It gave Sephiroth the choice to torture the blonde himself. Once completed, it materialized a meal for them and disappeared in its wake. 

It wanted them alive, but neither one of them could build a strategy around that desire. Cloud mentioned using a hunger strike to get its attention. Sephiroth shot daggers at him and stated that all this copy needed were a tube, a funnel, and a liquid meal. Cloud didn’t know anything about force feeding, but the horrors Sephiroth explained in detail stirred an invasive weight in his stomach. He did not suggest anything nearly that rash again. 

But it was difficult, considering Sephiroth took it upon himself to torture Cloud.

That doppelganger nearly killed him that first day, despite the deal. Cloud wanted to separate the two Sephiroths in his mind: one a sadist and one a soldier, but after the first encounter, the Soldier refused. Some tiny part of Cloud was relieved by his decision. Though Sephiroth’s tortures lasted longer, the soldier knew exactly where to inflict pain and release blood without any long term injuries. The moment the copy left them, Sephiroth dropped the replica blade and immediately tended to Cloud’s wounds. 

They had no idea how long this cycle went on. Days. Weeks. Months.

Cloud grunted and let out the softest cries as he tried to cover his bleeding wounds, coughing splatters of blood into his hand. 

Sephiroth stayed quiet as he sliced another perfect rectangle out of his leather coat. He tied the rag around Cloud’s deepest wound, tightening and securing it perfectly as always. Without asking, he adjusted the many other makeshift bandages on the boy’s body, covering and protecting as much as he could. 

Cloud kept his eyes away from the soldier, his protector, his torturer, as he tried not to twitch or flinch away in pain. He just watched the movement of the tattered remains of the majestic black coat on the First’s back that he swore he would wear when he first left his hometown. 

However, once Sephiroth finished, he didn’t back away like he usually did. He removed a glove before sliding one of the mako green shackles and delicately grabbing Cloud’s wrist. Cloud, feeling the warmth from his palm, gave him a weird look during his few seconds of silence before he explained, “Your heart rate and temperature dropped.”

“Blood loss will do that…” He strained to even speak clearly, his voice raspy and rough from fatigue, never getting a single change to heal back to full strength. 

“You need heat,” Sephiroth stated the only resource he could provide in this living hell. 

Cloud shook his head. “Answer me something first…” The reptilian eyes snapped so quickly to his barely mako infected blue he almost jumped. “Have you tried to… ‘put me out of my misery’...?”

“I have.”

The blonde choked on his breath at the formal admission. 

“I won’t deny the thought. But it doesn’t matter. That was the day I got this.” He gestured to the massive healing bruise along the side of his ribs. That was the first and only time the dark copy threw him away from Cloud mid-torture. It didn’t swat him away like a fly. The rage in its eyes was real, as was its strength to destroy them both if it desired. 

Cloud could only look away from the bewildered memory. 

Sephiroth maneuvered his chains around the blonde as he sat against the wall. “I will not touch you, but you need heat. Lean against me.”

Cloud looked at him like he was crazy. 

“I will not force you. I’ll be here.” 

He shook his head of spikey blonde hair. This whole situation was messed up enough. He didn't need this frustrating suggestion added to it. This was the man that burned down his home town before burning it down. This was the man that willingly tortured him only to tear his own clothes to pieces to help him heal. A chill went through his body from the cold and he groaned at the sensation. Cloud relented, hoping that whatever world they were trapped in now might give him the chance to protect the woman he loved. He needed to survive. The blonde begrudgingly laid his head against the soldier’s shoulder, the backs of their arms touching for a bit of extra warmth. Cloud could not deny that this warmth felt nice, though he would never admit it aloud. It didn't take long before the severely injured boy fell asleep on what used to be his hero, who his hero used to be. 

* * * 

They didn't know that single decision was the copy's plan. They didn't know Sephiroth's efforts to heal the cadet were exactly what it wanted, the last of what he would call human emotion. Despite the repeated tortures, they clung to each other for emotional support unconsciously. Good. They'd needed to be at their strongest before they could fall into the endless pit of despair and surrender for eternity. 

Days later, when the copy appeared before them once again, it did not speak. When it approached, they stayed still, Sephiroth standing in front of Cloud like a guard. The slightest smirk in anticipation curled on its face as it grabbed Sephiroth and threw him to the end of his chains. 

Cloud yelled a simple yet powerful 'NO'. He had no idea that was only the first cry of desperation he’d make tonight. 

It knocked Sephiroth to the ground and pinned him with its boot on his chest. Then it turned to Cloud and, speaking just as tranquilly and alluring as always, gave a simple command. “On your knees. I want you to beg for forgiveness.”

The bewildered look in both Cloud and Sephiroth's eyes delayed them. It didn't like that. It shook off its younger self’s pathetic attempt at defense and kicked him to the wall. The metal plates dented instantly upon impact, nearly buckling the support pillar within. 

That got the cadet moving, scrambling to his barely functioning feet and trying to run over before the next strike, to be the shield for once. If this creature gave up on them, grew bored of trying to keep them alive for whatever its goal was, then what the hell was he supposed to do? All he could do was try, yet the chains yanked him back before he even got close. He watched the dark copy throw blow after blow into his childhood hero. Not a single one of Sephiroth’s defenses or skills protected him. 

Cloud quickly saw he only had one option.

He fell to his knees and hung his head to forcibly avoid the sight. Though Sephiroth gave this creature nothing, not a single cry or even grunt of pain, the echo of each deadly impact ricocheted through the massive walls. The cacophony covered his whispers. Pleading. Begging. Desperate to make it stop.

His voice only grew louder and louder, a crescendo with each passing blow until his raspy shouts for forgiveness drowned the chamber. Though the copy was smirking and even grinning in victory, it didn’t stop. Cloud found himself screaming more than in his own torture, a never ending cycle of ‘please forgive me’ tainting his every breath. Even tears he could not control did not stop the doppelganger. 

It felt like hours, Cloud’s face covered in endless clear rivers while Sephiroth’s rivers of red ran along his body, before the creature finally left them again. The silver soldier struggled and coughed more crimson into his hand as he tried to push himself up just to sit. Drying blood stained the perfect mercury of his hair. Neither one of them spoke until he healed enough to crawl into Cloud’s range. 

However, the cadet didn’t move, his body shaking, his arms tightly against his chest as he trembled and stared down. He spoke in the weakest voice, “We should surrender…”

Sephiroth stared daggers into him at the suggestion alone, but Cloud was serious.

“What’s the point…? We don’t know who’s living or dead out there… We don’t know if anyone will find us or if we’ll die of starvation or our own wounds… Sephiroth, if we just listen to him-”

“Absolutely not.”

“We can-”

“No-”

“At least then we can breathe-”

“No-”

“Then this can finally end…”

Sephiroth wanted to protest, but clearly the cadet’s mind was too broken. This plea was the beginning of something he couldn’t fix. He shut himself down into still silence, but Cloud kept pleading with him to surrender. No matter how hard he tried to block out the boy’s cries, they broke through each crack in his walls. He could do this alone. He had to do this alone. But something deep in his chest ached, and it wasn’t the broken ribs. Something about losing the one companion he had pried into his heart. 

The copy kept appearing only to torture the remains of the silver soldier. The blonde cadet only begged him to give in, his voice calm during the torture and greater when they were alone. There was only one more support he could count on. One more calling from the abyss of mako. He felt it from the moment they were thrown in this chamber. It promised safety. It promised a purpose. It promised the freedom to never feel this way again. 

Each day that passed pushed him closer to the mako pit below. He didn’t know if he had the courage to jump. He only knew it was there. And it was growing, and growing, and growing…

.

.

.

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Thanks for reading!

Author's Note: As requested, @beneathstarryskies here you go!

[daydreamgoddess14]

Run

MASTERLIST

The team tries to stop Ted from leaving.

Rebecca couldn’t look up. Couldn’t bring herself to look around the locker room. She could feel Colin’s shoulders shaking beside her, and Van Damme’s noisy, snotty tears. Beard sat on her other side, still holding her hand. Jamie still hadn’t released Sam from his tight hug, his face buried in Sam’s neck. Isaac was on double duty - trying to console Will with one arm whilst holding Moe’s hand, no hands spare to wipe away his own tears. Keeley had made herself as small as possible and curled into Roy’s lap. Leslie and Trent had slumped together, looking around the room at the other members of the team in various states of despair and tears, comforting each other or seeking comfort from those who still had a spare shoulder to lean on. Her arm shook a little as Beard took another deep, shuddering breath to calm himself before giving up and letting out a sad little whimper. Still she stared at the floor, at the dirty socks, Jamie’s painted toenails following his afternoon with Phoebe. She did find one player at floor level, Dani had laid down and curled into a ball. She sighed sadly. She needed to pull herself together, for the team more than herself. She gripped Beard’s hand and gave it a squeeze, took her own deep and painful breath, and stood up, clearing her throat. Some of the team looked to her, others were still too lost in their own thoughts.

“We should… we need to… Fuck.” She wiped away the tears which had restarted as soon as she’d caught Jamie’s eye over Sam’s shoulder. “We need to regroup, I know this is sad.”

“It’s not sad, boss. It’s worse than that.” Richard mumbled. Rebecca’s heart nearly tore open again at hearing him call her ‘boss’.

“I know. I know it is.”

“Why did we let him go?” Van Damme wailed, Rebecca braced herself to be blamed.

“He wants to be with his boy, we need to respect that. We ain’t his kids.” Jamie grumbled, his voice still muffled by Sam.

“There’s got to be another way. A better way.” Sam countered.

“Well, if there is Sam, then I don’t know what it is.” Rebecca admitted. She’d thrown money at the situation - her private jet, the best solicitors to discuss shared custody. Nothing had worked. Beard knocked his knee against her leg, she looked down at him.

“There is one thing we didn’t try. But I didn’t want to suggest it around Ted.” Over a dozen voices seemed to speak at once-

“What is it?”

“Anything, we’ll do anything!”

“Tell us!”

“What do we do?”

Rebecca dropped back into her seat and turned to face him. “Tell me what to do?”

“We call Michelle and Henry. Show her… this.” He gestured around the room and then reached for his phone. “But be warned - he may never forgive us for this.”

“It’s worth the fucking risk, do it.” Roy said gruffly, his voice still strained with the effort of his crying. Beard selected the contact and waited for the call to connect.

“Coach, what can I do for you? This is a surprise.”

“Michelle, I’m gonna cut to the chase. Ted’s just left for the airport to go back to Kansas.”

“What? Since when? I had no idea, I promise we haven’t discussed this.”

“I know you haven’t. This is all his own stupid idea. But I need you to see what he’s leaving behind.” He turned the phone around and panned it across the room. No one bothered to hide their tears or distress, they clung to each other like they were each other’s lifeboat. He handed the phone to Rebecca, the tracks of her tears still evident.

“My god. Why does he think this is necessary?”

“He wants to be with Henry, is he there?” Rebecca’s voice cracked.

“He’s here, he’s here.” She handed the phone over. 4,336 miles away Henry’s face popped into view.

“I don’t need him to come here. I want to come there, I want to spend more time there. Can’t you stop him?”

“It’s too late sweet boy. He’s already left us.” Rebecca felt fresh tears fall.

“Stop him!” Henry bellowed, the team suddenly roused. “I am Lenry Hasso and I am telling y’all to move your-” his voice dropped to a whisper, “asses! Move, move, move! Old man Coach Beard can move faster than you dweebs!” He shouted again. Beard sprung up next to her, followed by Roy who nearly dropped Keeley. Jamie finally let Sam go, Van Damme roared. Within moments, the team was on their feet. Pulling on trainers, t-shirts. Rebecca thrust the phone at Beard and grabbed her bag from the floor to get to her own phone. She brought it to her ear and scrolled through her contacts.

“Bring the coach round, right now. Right now!” She shouted, “Right you lot, get outside now - we’re going to Gatwick!”

“Heathrow.” Trent offered.

“Heathrow! We’re going to Heathrow right fucking now! Thank fuck for that,” She turned to Trent, “it’s half hour closer!” It didn’t take long for Rebecca, Beard and Roy to corral the team onto the bus. In fact, it was the quickest they’d ever organised themselves. For once, there was no arguing over who sat where or pushing down the aisle. Beard had handed the phone over to Keeley while he got everyone in order. Once Will had done a headcount, he sat next to Rebecca and they both looked to the screen at Henry, who’d be joined by Michelle and Jake.

“Are you all there?” He asked, breathless.

“Yes Henry, we’re all here. We’re all going to stop him.”

“I’m going too - Beard, do not hang up this phone. I don’t care how much it costs, I’ll send you my allowance.”

“I’m not hanging up buddy.”

“And you will not, I’ll cover this phone bill.” Rebecca used the journey to calm herself down, there was nothing to do about looking like she’d been in a boxing ring - her eyes red and sore, hair and clothes disheveled, but she could at least try and calm her mind and try to figure out what the hell to say. As if reading her mind, Henry asked exactly that.

“Tell him the truth.” He said once Rebecca had admitted that she didn’t have a clue.

“What’s the truth? That the team is entirely dependent on him?” Henry scoffed,

“No silly, that you love him.” Rebecca nearly dropped the phone, but Beard was able to grab it from her.

“It might be obvious to astute types like us, H, but Rebecca’s not quite there yet.”

“Well according to Google, she’s got about 20 minutes to get there.” Henry said sternly.

“Are you pulling out Lenry Hasso again?” She asked.

“I might. Do you love my dad?” Rebecca thought briefly before nodding with absolute certainty.

“Yes Henry, yes I do. Is that ok?” he beamed at her through the screen, and behind her a huge cheer went up amongst the players.

The bus pulled up at the drop off point and Leslie gave some vague instructions to the driver about doing a loop of the airport. “Think Sandra Bullock in Speed.” He said sagely. The entire team huddled together,

“Are you sure we should all do this?” Will asked nervously, the team ribbing at him. Isaac looked around the group.

“Hands in, ‘Get Ted’ on six.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six - GET TED!” They all shouted before dispersing and heading to the terminal doors. In the midst of the group, Trent as the voice of close to sanity shouted directions.

“Gate 16, turn left.” They all ran as if their lives depended on it. Rebecca’s feet pounded the floor with each step, she wondered how she had enough air in her lungs, how she could be running in heels, but the team swept her along and kept her going, their odd peloton navigating the wide corridors of the airport. They raced through duty free and followed travelators until they reached security. Rebecca was pulled to the front and presented to a trio of security guards. She was about to channel her inner Keeley Fucking Jones when one of the guards said,

“Ain’t you Jamie Tartt?”

“And ain’t you Roy Kent?”

“Shit Derek - this is the Richmond team!”

“I know! ‘Ere, what you lot doin’?”

“We need to get through.”

“All of ya?” Rebecca drew herself up to full height,

“All of us. Is there a problem with that?” The security guard swiped his card and the double doors swung open, the team pushed through before they could be stopped again, and the running continued.

“Turn right at the bottom!” Trent called out, they moved as one, all leaning into the corner. “It’s the last gate at the end of this hallway.”

“Course it’s the last fucking gate.” Roy puffed. “Last push lads, let’s fucking goooo! Whistle, whistle, whistle!” With renewed energy, they upped their speed and ran at full pace, crowds dispersing in their path. Rebecca looked around quickly, trying to keep her balance. Somewhere behind her, Keeley’s voice rang out,

“We’re all here babe, all of us are still here.”

It was hard to ignore the noise, chaos and confusion brought on by an entire football team, their support staff and owner running through an airport. Ted heard the commotion long before he saw it with his own eyes, he wasn’t sure he could trust what he saw though until they were screaming his name.

“COACH!”

“Ted!”

“Lasso!” and over the speaker of Beard’s phone, still connected to Henry,

“Daaaaad!” The team surrounded him, barely leaving him space to turn on the spot.

“What in holy heck is goin’ on here?” Somehow, Rebecca found herself pushed to the front again. Over Ted’s head, Beard handed her his phone.

“Someone wanted to talk to you.” She said, short of breath.

“Dad! Don’t get on the plane!” Henry shouted. The team murmured in agreement, their voices rising until Ted could hardly hear Henry.

“Settle down, hush your butts boys.”

“Sorry Coach.” They all muttered.

“Henry, I need to come back to you.”

“No you don’t Dad, you need to stay there - the team needs you. Beardo needs you. Rebecca needs you.” He whirled around to look at Beard,

“Did you do this?” He accused.

“All I did was pick up the phone. These guys did the rest. And her.” He nodded his head towards Rebecca.

“Tell him, Rebecca, you gotta tell him!” Henry demanded.

“Tell me what?” Ted asked, his voice quiet. The murmurs of the team rose in volume again,

“Tell him, tell him.” They whispered, gently jostling Rebecca.

“Don’t go, Ted.” She begged, a prod in her back pushed her forward half a step into the little left of Ted’s personal space. “I love you, please don’t go.” She breathed, the chaos of the last 40 minute drive and dash through the airport had kept her going, but the tears were now threatening to fall.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked in disbelief.

“She didn’t know!” Half the team replied in singsong unison.

“I didn’t know.” She whispered with a watery smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But I do, I love you. I love you, Ted.” The tears fell and her knees gave out, nearly sinking her to the floor, but her team held her up. Isaac on one elbow, Colin on the other. Ted nodded at both of them and they moved away to let him through. He took her into his arms.

“I love you too, boss.” He grinned, “I don’t suppose I can rescind my resignation?” He leaned in to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her arms moved up and around his shoulders bringing him in as close as possible. Surrounded by whoops, cheers and tears, Ted smiled against Rebecca’s mouth.

“You’re not going anywhere, Coach Lasso.”

Sometime the next morning, late morning, Rebecca laid in bed and flipped through the newspaper. She had a cup of tea resting against her exposed collarbone, a sheet held up against her body. The first 10 pages contained photos of the airport dash, with a picture of Ted kissing her on the front page. She couldn’t help but go back to that page again. Next to her, a deep voice muttered from face down in the pillow,

“I know a picture lasts longer sweetheart, but I don’t think it matters when you got it on demand?” Ted rolled over to look at her, bare faced and smiling at him.

“I’m just thinking about how your next press conference is going to go.” She sniggered. Ted grabbed the paper and threw it over the side of the bed, pulling her closely to him, “Watch the tea!” She reached behind to put the cup on her nightstand while Ted kissed the red mark the hot cup had left on her chest.

“I don’t care, I’ll have the full support of the owner.” he mumbled against her skin.

“Yes you will.” She smirked, settling back into his arms.

[redheadjustin]

STAR WARS: SAVING THE CHOSEN ONE

Please note I have messed with the timeline a bit. Pong Krell was executed in season 5 of Star wars: the clone wars. Please understand that any changes are so I better interact with the universe.

  The force watched in despair. The planet was devastated from the battle between the two force users. Rocks with marks from lightsabers layed scattered from being hurled as weapons to distract the opponent and create an opening. Finally, the blue lightsaber of the graying redhead struck across the helmet of the sith. The redhead man, once known as Obi-Wan Kenobi, was shocked yet relieved to see the burnt and scar face of his Former padawan. The sith that was on his knees struggling to breathe was sith lord Darth Vader or as he was known years ago, Anakin Skywalker Jedi knight, the hero with no fear, the hero of tomorrow, chosen one who was supposed to destroy the sith and bring balance to the force.

The force itself watched, saddened by the turn of events that occurred years ago that the force was powerless to stop. The force watched as Palpatine killed Kit Fisto and two other members of the Jedi consul. It watched as Mace Windu and Papatine dueled until the Jedi had the sith down for the count until Anakin came and chopped Mace’s hand off thus allowing the sith to kill the Jedi. The force watched as Anakin was forced to join the sith to save his wife. It watches as the sith issued order sixty six and began the Jedi purge.

The force watched as the chosen one lost the duel with his former master. And it watched as Anakin Skywalker lost his wife and his unborn child. It watched as Padme Amadalia died of a broken heart after she gave birth to the twins Luke and Leah Skywalkwer. It watched as the twins were separated and the remaining Jedi went into hiding. But, the force always focused on the former chosen one. Yes, Qui-Gon Jinn had been right all those years ago. And the force was saddened by how far Anakin had fallen. The force could have intervened at any time it wanted to but it held out hope that Anakin would turn back to the light. But, those hopes never came to fruition.

The force watched with regret as Obi-Wan walked to his former padawan and brother. The blue blade of the lightsaber that Anakin knew so well raised above him and the fallen Jedi knew it was the end. He looked deep into Obi-Wan’s eyes, this caught the old Jedi off guard. The former Jedi had a sad smile on his burnt lips. “I’m sorry Obi-Wan. I’m sorry for everything. Go ahead, it’s okay master. I’ll see Padme again.” as he spoke the sith’s eyes reverted back to their blue color. The red haired Jedi smiled back just as sadly tears forming in his aged eyes. “You’re forgiven my padawan.” The emotion in Obi-Wan’s voice was thick as he began to bring the saber down.

The force decided enough was enough and froze time around the galaxy. The blue blade froze as did everything else. The force knew Anakin was the only one who COULD end Palpitine’s rineg of terror and bring balance. But, it was too late. The second the force unfroze time the blade would go down on Anakin’s neck, killing him. The force knew that even if it could intervene here it wouldn’t matter. Anakin was more machine than man now and would be no match to Darth Sidious. The force knew the only option was to change history to prevent the fall of the republic. But, then the question was how to keep Anakin from falling. The force pondered this until it recalled another of its favorites. A young human boy that was a Jedi at the time. He was a Padawan without a master at the time. Ah yes, the force recalled young sixteen year old Justin Bush. a very talented Jedi but he fell as well. Now he wasn’t known as Justin Bush but rather as the first brother. The more the force thought of it it made sense. Rewind time and send a message to Yoda to assign Justin as Anakin’s first padawan left the Jedi order thus perhaps stopping Anakin’s fall to the darkside. The force smiled as it watched as time started to rewind. This could save the galaxy and give happiness to two who deserved it the most.

21 BBY (season 5 of Star wars the clone wars) Justin POV

I sighed as I stared into the mirror of the fresher in my room that was in the apartment I share with my Master, Pong Krell. I did not like what I saw in the mirror. Not one bit. Bruises, marks, cuts and scars were what met my brown eyes. All of which were inflicted by my “master”. My skin was more scared than what it should be for a fourteen year old that hasn't seen a day of this war. It was the same thing since I was assigned to Master Krell when I was thirteen. A year ago. A year of abuse and harsh training. Master Krell was one of the prominent generals in the clone wars yet, he never took me into battle. He always cited my autism. But I knew that was a bunch of bantha shit. He just didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about my abuse. I used to wear sleeveless robes that showed my toned, freckled arms. But now I wear sleeves to hide the cuts and marks. I hardly talked to any of my friends anymore. Well, except Cal. Cal is like a little brother and has yet to find a master despite him being the best of his group.

I eat alone. I train alone. I study alone. I am alone. My Master has isolated me from the rest of the Jedi order. I feel an anger bubble up in my very being as I can’t take my eyes off of my body. The only part that remains undamaged is my face. Well, on the outside. But, no one can deny how my eyes are more heavy, having lost their shine long ago. I wanted to punch the mirror that showed me what I’d become. A shell of a padawan who was too scared to reveal his abuse to the Jedi counsel. I was glad my “master” had gone on a mission with the five hundred and first. It gave me some time to heal but not a lot.

The entire temple was somber. It was only a month after Asoka Tanno left the order. And I couldn’t exactly blame her. The Jedi bent to the pressure of the senate and expelled Asoka. It turned out that Barris Offree was the one who blew the hanger up. I didn’t know either of them well but they were always nice to me. Barris wasn’t the only one who had lost faith in the Jedi. I was starting too and I knew it must have been the same for Anakin Skywalker. I knew he was of course. He was the hero with no fear and the chosen one. I knew he was accepted into the order at nine. I also knew that he blamed the counsel for the death of his mother. And I also knew he blamed the counsel for bowing to the senate. And to be honest? I don’t blame him.

I was pulled out of my musing by a knock at the apartment door. It must have been the droid with the mail. I didn’t bother to put my tunic on as it was a droid and was programmed to not report anything we didn’t want it too. As I approached the door I didn’t notice the force signature on the other side of the door. I really wish I had some damn caf. I opened the door expecting to see the mail droid but instead I saw Master Obi-wan Kenobi. The fellow redhead’s eyes widened slightly before going back to normal.

“Good morning Padawan Bush, I was here to inform you the Jedi council wished to speak with you, but it appears that a trip to the healers is in order afterwards.” The famed negotiator of the Jedi order said taking in every mark, burse, cut and scar on my body. My face flushed with embarrassment as I looked down while summoning my tunic from my room with the force. “Master Kenobi, I wasn’t expecting you this morning.” The amused smirk that appeared on the council member’s face didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I can see that. Now, you can do your tunic on the way to the council’s chamber. There's an urgent matter we must discuss with you.” And with that the redhead started to walk leaving me to stumble after him. As I walked I did my tunic tight as Master Kenobi had seen my abuse and I would already be forced into a trip to the healers. I didn’t need to expose my abuse. “Master” Krell would kill me. And no, I don’t mean that figuratively. As we walked towards the tower that housed the Jedi council’s chamber I didn’t notice Master Obi-Wan communicating through his bond with the rest of the Council. The ride in the turbolift was calm if not slow. I felt waves of calm dousing the fire of my nerves.

I had always been told that my emotions in the force were like an explosion. That I had an aura about me that made people want to protect me and soothe me when I’m in distress. The turbolift doors open revealing a long hall to a single door. I remember being down this hall when I was four, when I was first brought to the temple after my parents died. I remembered being carried in a padawan's arms as I tried to stop my sobs. I remember him rubbing circles on my back. I remember the words of comfort he whispered in my ear. I remember him wiping the blood from the cut in the middle of my eyebrow. I remember so much of him but I don’t remember his name.

I was brought to the present by Master Obi-Wan’s voice. “Padawan, Wait out here while I inform the Council of your arrival.” I nodded as he walked into the Council chamber. The second the doors slid closed I felt a feeling of dread fill me. something was wrong. I just knew it. Something had changed but I Didn’t know what. I also knew Master Kenobi would most likely mention my injuries and I knew that I couldn’t try to lie. I wanted to. But, the force told me to do so would be stupid. I played with my padawan braid as I waited for the doors to the Jedi council to open. Sometimes I wish I had been sent to the service corps. At least there I would have never incurred the abuse I had. The doors to the chamber opened.  It felt as though the Force was making me walk into the chamber but I did so all the same.

As I walked in I couldn’t help but notice that only half the council was prescient. Oppo Rancisis, Yoda, Adi Gallia, Eeth Koth, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Kit Fisto were the ones present. I could feel each council member’s eyes on me, as if staring into my soul. Each Member’s eyes were filled with different emotions. Sadness, Pity, understanding, distrust and many others. But, I kept what little calm I could muster as I prepared to answer the council’s questions.

“Young one, Good to see you, it is.” Master Yoda greeted me with a smile and his ears poking upwards. Master Yoda had always been one of my favorite Jedi masters around the temple as he and I had a special bond. I was the only autistic Jedi in the order and had a lot of issues with conitrateing and being able to keep my emotions under wrapps.  Yoda had taken me under his wing to avoid any issues as I grew older. I sometimes think he would have taken me as his padawan had the war not happened.

“It’s nice to see you as well Master Yoda.” I said with a smile and a bow of respect. It felt relaxed when Master Yoda spoke to me, as though he knew my nerves and was trying to keep me calm. Unfortunately, someone had to shatter this. “Padawan, we don’t have time for the pleasantries. We have received troubling reports about your master and we have questions.” Master Windu said with contempt in his voice. He always disliked me. It always bothered me but I kept my calm.

“What Master Windu means,” Master Obi-Wan said with a slight glare at Master Windu. “Is that some disturbing events have occurred that involved your Master. And as his Padawan we have some questions for you.” Ah, Master Obi-Wan, ever the diplomat but the way they phrased it only increased the pit in my stomach. “Masters, may I ask what events have occurred? And how Is my Master involved?” I felt the feeling in my stomach grow as the council shared a look. “Padawan, I’m sorry to inform you but your Master was killed in a possible mutiny and-” I don’t hear the rest of Master Kenobi’s sentence after the first part. I was shocked. Master Krell was dead? He was Killed by a clone? He Couldn’t hurt me anymore? Did he hurt the Clones like he did me? It was a lot. And I couldn’t focus, I could feel myself start to get overwhelmed. I could hear someone calling my name but it felt as though they were in a forcefield. I barely saw someone stand in front of me. I couldn’t process all the information that had just been thrown at me. I could feel My panic spiral until Someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Justin, You’re okay. You need to match my breathing.” Master Kenobi told me in a calm voice. It took me a bit but I did manage to calm down. “I take It you didn’t know of your Master’s plan to abuse the clones?” Master Obi-Wan asked me softly and I could Only nod shyly at the question. “Did your master abuse you as well?” Was his follow up. I nodded again as my voice kept failing me. He hovered his hand around my tunic as if asking for permission to remove my tunic. I tensed but I gave him a nod. As Master Kenobi undid my tunic I heard gasps from the rest of the council as they saw the marks, bruises and scars on my torso. I felt ashamed and looked at the floor. I felt the looks bare into me and I felt embarrassed. I wanted to disappear and get away from the pity. I heard Yoda walk closer to me as I heard his walking stick. “Your fault, it was not. Abuse you, your master did. Obi-Wan, take him to the healing halls, you will. Wait for his new master with him, you will.” Yoda said softly but with an authoritative tone. I saw Obi-Wan nod and he warped my tunic around me to cover my abuse.

I layed on the bed in the healing halls as still as I could per the healer’s orders as I described my abuse to Obi-Wan for an official report for the chancellor to read. I was in a private room as all of the patent rooms were. I felt stuipd describing every injury to Obi-Wan. Despite Obi-Wan’s reassurances I felt like I let Krell abuse me. I was describing the burns on my shoulder when the door to my room slid open. “Ah Anakin. I’m glad you came to meet your new padawan.” Obi-Wan said and I could practically hear the knowing smirk in the redhead’s voice. I looked up from my lap to see my new master. I looked up to see Anakin Skywalker. I saw the frustrated look on his face turn into a look of sympathy.

“Hello there young one. It seems you've been through a lot. But, I’ll help you. I promise as your master I’ll protect you.” And I don’t know if it was because he was the hero with no fear or if it was because he was the chosen one, but I believed him and felt safe for the first time in a year. And I missed that feeling. But, I felt the force telling me it would all be okay.  

[lovesick-panmess]

Rapture

A part two to my Armageddon AU. Warnings for depictions of blood, gore, and self-depreciation.

Levi's hand stayed pressed against the metal door, if he leaned in enough he can hear the footsteps of his younger brothers running to what he hoped was assured safety. His legs felt like jello and that he could barely hold himself up, anxiety pumping through his veins as he rushed downstairs. There was no courageous bone in his body, he was just a shitty pathetic otaku and all too eager to hide away in his room and wait for an attack to be over, for this fucking nightmare to be over. He watches Mammon continuing to fed of the doorway, trading punches and blasts to those who tried to come in. God, he was all too aware of his tail and horns, the clothes of his demon form feeling all too tight. "Levi! A little help here?!"

Mammon's shout brings him back to the despair of reality, getting a running start as he pulled the angel off of him and began to tug at its wings before completely ripping it off with his tail. The angel cries fall silent and the two brothers meet each other's eyes as the blood begins to reach their feet. "..They're just newborns, why the hell would the Celestial Realm send newborns to try and attack us?" Mammon spoke, effortlessly gutting one that attempt to fly overhead and turning away quickly, his own claws digging into the palm of his hand and it's hard to tell which of the dripping blood is his own or an angel. Levi doesn't want to think about it, it's clear when he closes his eyes and ripping apart wings like paper. He can't bear to imagine each one that he kills being around Luke's age...he just can't. "This is just for a distraction, we gotta give them time to get to Dia's castle," Mammon speaks in plan in their shared language while twisting the angel's wrist, and Levi is unable to hide his grimace from the loud crack that followed.

He keeps sinking, deeper into his own thoughts and trying to ignore the way his heart clenches at the painfilled screams and his eyes constantly shifting so he can kill on sight. There was a brief pause but sadly no relief from the attacks as he screamed, "Mammon look out!" The window of the living room shatters as an angel now armed with a sword tackles the eldest brother, Levi turns to help but finds himself surrounded with similar swords that he knows he can't let them touch him. He breathes in deeply, despite his own self-doubt, he knows that there is a reason why he is part of the most powerful in Devildom though he is at a territorial disadvantage. He snarls baring his teeth now soaked with blood and fire pooling into his gut as some of them back off in fear.

His tail acts first, grabbing an angel behind him by the throat and viciously digging his claws into their eye sockets and watching in crazed delight as the blood oozed out. He looked at their fortified expressions and found himself completely void of pity, where was that hesitation when they so eagerly attacked? Where was that fear that could have driven them away from this house? Their home...his brothers..all split apart because of this attack made anger bubble in his throat. It was feral and ugly, Levi leaving gaping holes in the bodies of already dead angels and the growing thirst for more carnage-

"Are ya done yet? Talk about overkill, Levi."

He blinked as if awakened from a long nap, removing his knee from the angel's back as he stood. They were both panting and clearly becoming exhausted, but he couldn't look away from Mammon's cocky grin and wiping off the remaining feathers. Too many questions flooded into his head, how long will they be able to defend their home? What more they could handle before eventually passing out? Were the younger brothers safe and sound? And why did Mammon look so cool at this very moment? He had watched Mammon so effortlessly fight angels that even he was struggling with, looking so strong and willing to defend their home while Levi's first thought was to run away. He wasn't brave like Mammon, he wasn't strong, even weaker angels put up a fight. He was so weak it was disgusting, he was disgusting and stupid to think that he would be worth anything in comparison to fighting with Mammon.

Bitter admiration and malicious jealousy dances in his chest, he pants and stumbles into the wall as his vision blurs. Now only showing the pure white of his eyes and the last thing he hears is Mammon distantly calling out his name...and Envy taking over. There is an orange glow emanating and pulsing as Levi's form shifts and changes, he grows larger as the scales covering his entire body are now sharp like razors. He's more snake-like, hissing and gurgling deep within his throat, and makes his way to the streets of Devildom, quick to attack any demon or angel that gets in his way.

Mammon curses as he runs after his brother and racking his brain for any way to bring him back but the sight in front of him made him stop. Watching a multitude of angels continue to stab their blades into Levi's tail and this untamable rage begins to take hold of Mammon. The mocking laughter of those surrounding him, filling his ears and drowning out any conscious thought out the window. "We'll kill you and all your brothers too! Devildom is ours for the taking." This sort of desire to make them shut the fuck up leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, black feathers completely decorating his arms as he stumbles back, trying his best to calm down. To think clearly, Lucifer would want him to keep his head on his shoulders, he would be so disappointed if Mammon couldn't keep it together from some small taunts. But such needs...were growing to be too much, the desire to protect the ones he loved became something he could no longer suppress as he let himself transform and sink deeper into this kind of greed.

The greed that the only annihilation can fulfill.

Violence.

---------

Ahhhhh I am so happy that so many people fell in love with this au! Thank you for all the likes and excitement, it really means alot ❤ and once again a thank you to the fabulous @asterronomical for not only helping me review ideas for this part two but also giving visuals into the brothers (Levi and Mammon) current forms!

I'd also love to hear some theories on why the Celestial Realm is attacking 👀

[boxofbadaddiction]

Reassurance

Fred Weasley x [She/They]Reader

WARNINGS: Blood Mention. Death Mention. Lots of Crying. Nudity. Memory/Nightmare in Italics. Scars. PTSD. Swearing.

SUMMARY: After Y/n wakes from a nightmare, of Fred's death, Fred helps them calm down and reassures them he isn't going anywhere.

For @prettywhitedoves because I broke her heart with Dead!Fred tiktoks [It starts rough but there’s fluff, I promise.]

Y/n’s hands grip harshly onto the cold porcelain of their bathroom sink, tears stream from their eyes and crash against the basin as they try desperately to ease their shaking and panicked breaths. Their limbs tremble under the weight of holding themself upright; the white light cast from the bulb above the mirror feels like a spotlight as it abrasively sheds down upon their broken state.

They draw a deep breath to calm themself but as more memories rise to the surface of their mind a cracked sob overtakes their chest instead.

Fred’s laid out, cold and still, on a stretcher on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Splashes of blood and thick smudges of ash and dirt contaminate his beautiful face. Above him Molly stands crying for the loss of her child as George clings to his chest; body wracked with despair and broken wails. Y/n stands frozen in fear staring at his lifeless body.

“Y/n/n?” a distant voice calls, beckoning them back to reality. The bathroom door creaks open, shedding the light into the dark bedroom without and highlighting a familiar face.

Y/n looks to the mirror as they enter, their vision blurred from the tears that refuse to stop falling.

“Shit- Y/n/n, what’s wrong?” the person speaks rushing to pull them into his body. “Breathe, Darling, just breathe I’m here.”

“But you- you weren’t” they sob, clinging to his shirt, “you were dead. I saw you...on that stretcher in the Hall-” “The Hall?" he questions in confusion, it takes a moment for things to make sense but suddenly everything clicks into place. 'Another nightmare' he thinks.

"Love...I was just knocked out, remember? I’m okay.”

“It felt so real-” “It was just a dream” Fred assures, slightly swaying them in place as he holds them, thankful as he feels their cries start to steady the longer he holds them.

“What would I have done without you?”

“Hey, shh, don’t think about that.” he says, pulling away enough to lift their gaze to his, “I’m here. You don’t have to worry about that.”

He raises a hand to comfortingly stroke through their hair and takes a deep pointed breath in through his nose and out through his lips wanting Y/n to do the same. She draws some long slow breaths in time with Fred’s, one hand placed above his heart to be sure it’s truly still beating.

Their eyes close as they take in his scent and the rise and fall of his chest against their splayed palm; it’s the reassurance they need to finally calm down.

“There,” Fred remarks, bringing both his hands to cup his lover’s face and swipe away their tears with the pad of his thumbs, “that’s better.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/n croaks, “No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for, Love.” he places a kiss on their forehead but grimaces at the feeling of their cold skin beneath his. “You’re freezing sweetheart.” 

“A little.” Y/n chuckles sadly. “Reckon I look like a right mess too.” “A little.” Fred teases and Y/n bats his chest with a weak arm. “What do you say we take a shower and warm you up, hmm? You’ll feel much better.”

“Okay.” she nods.

Fred squeezes their arms momentarily before directing them to take a seat on the toilet lid while he moves to get the water running hot.

As the water runs Fred turns back to Y/n, he kneels before them and places his hands to their waist, “I’m gonna take this off, okay?”

At their approval Fred’s fingers hook beneath the hem of their shirt; Y/n lifts their arms as he pulls the fabric up and over their body.

Sat bare chested before him Y/n looks to him with a soft expression, they reach a hand out and grab the ties of his pajama bottoms giving a playful tug, Fred cocks a brow to the action. “Well you are joining me, aren’t you?” they pout. “Of course.” Fred laughs breathily.

Y/n grabs the hem of his pants as they stand, “I’m going to take these off, is that ok?” she parrots his earlier words. “If I ever say no to you asking to take my pants off, Love...check me into St. Mungos, I’ve lost my mind.” Fred jokes bringing a giggle to Y/n’s chest and a wide smile to their lips. She tugs the material down to his knees and Fred steps the rest of the way out kicking the clothing aside.

Y/n next removes his shirt, with slight difficulty thanks to his size, as the shirt slips from his head roughing his hair Fred dips to grab a hold of her waist pulling them into his body and placing a kiss to their lips.

Y/n’s initial gasp of surprise quickly turns to a content moan, they bring their hands up to rest against his chest but Fred jumps away with a sharp inhale.

“Shit your hands are cold!”

“Oh, are they?” Y/n asks feigning concern, “Are they still cold here?” she questions, placing their icy palm on the inside of his thigh making him jump once more. She laughs at his reaction and attacks his exposed skin in more places just to hear him laugh.

 “Ah- woman, I swear!” Fred exclaims as she touches his neck. “Swear what?” Y/n challenges, “You’ll be showering alone in a minute if you keep that up.”

His partner gasps at his words, “ You wouldn’t…” “Wouldn’t I?”

Y/n’s mouth hangs open wide then closes softly as they look at him with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, not with the face...alright, come on you,” he says, giving into them he places a kiss to their brow, “we’re wasting water.”

Discarding their last items of clothing the two step into the steaming warmth of the shower, Y/n being the first to go beneath the waters jets.

They spend some time simply holding one another, running handfuls of water over each other and basking in the feel of their bodies pressed together.

Fred reaches for some of their body soap, lathering it between his hands he runs long strokes across Y/n’s back and down her chest. He massages her neck and back to rid the tension they’ve been holding there.

Reaching for the shampoo he twirls his finger before their face instructing them to turn around so he can wash their hair. Y/n sighs comfortably at the feeling of his fingers working against their scalp. After rinsing he does the same with the conditioner.

“Your turn.” Y/n smiles, once he’s finished, squeezing some soap into their palm. Fred smiles and lets Y/n dutifully massage his body as she cleans him. Turning so she can clean his back Fred gets lost to the feeling of their fingers tracing his body and his head lulls back as he basks in the moment; while Y/n, contrarily, gets lost scanning the countless scars that litter his body. 

From the ones they’d long ago familiarised themself with: due to Quidditch and pranks gone wrong, to the newer ones she were yet to and that were much harder to look at; ones which Fred usually hides. 

Cuts and lashes from the wall that collapsed atop of him, nearly stealing him from the world, cover his back. Each one a reminder to them that he survived and that he’s here breathing; that he healed.

A few fresh tears fall from Y/n’s eyes as her finger repeatedly traces a particularly large one, they lean forward and place three tender kisses to the mark; one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end.

Fred can sense their change in mood and turns to see them standing with a forced smile and broken teary eyes. He tilts their chin up with his forefinger and thumb and kisses them slowly.

“I’m here.” he says simply between breaths as their lips move together.

“I survived,” he whispers to them.

“I’m not leaving you, I swear.” this time as he speaks his own tear drops to his cheek.

“I really don’t know what I would have done without you.” Y/n voices, nudging their nose into the underside of his jaw as she holds him close.

“You’ll never have to know.”

After their shower Fred helps Y/n get dressed into a pair of warm pajamas, he pulls back the blankets of their bed and slips beneath the sheets inviting them to lay with him.

Their arms encapsulate his torso and head buries into his chest. Releasing a heavy breath Y/n mumbles to him simply, “I love you, Freddie.”

“I love you more, darling.”

[oopsierosie]

in loving memory

A/n: This fanfic is inspired by a tiktok my sister showed me for a headcannon of Sanzu from Tokyo revengers. Prompt and idea credits goes to the creator, I just wrote it into a story. )

~

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of cheating, Death, Shitty writing

Characters: Sanzu Haruchiyo

~

“The stars are beautiful tonight aren’t they doll?” his soft voiced purred softly, words rolling off his tongue, dripping like honey. His calloused fingers wrapped gingerly around the female’s hand, thumb caressing the delicate skin. It was rare to see pure serenity washed over his features – a soft smile was a favorable replacement for that menacing frown he usually had. His beautiful eyes that were illuminated by the moonlight that basked the silenced city, watched with intent at the sparkling wonders that adorned the night sky. “Well, not as beautiful as you sadly.” He added with a flirtatious intent, turning his gaze so his eyes could meet her own ones. He hummed in amusement as he watched the rosy tint spread across her lively cheeks, magnifying the innocent beauty she truly was. Shifting his figure towards her own, he raised her hand towards his lips, pressing a warm, gentle kiss on the flawless skin.

“You really do know how to make a woman swoon over you.” She chuckled as she felt the skin of his lips against the back of her hand. Despite the palpable romance and adoration that hung between them, she knew it was nothing more than a simple façade. The mask of indifference lies beneath the flowery words of compassion that roll of his tongue so easily – serenading and charming any women or men who seem to fallen for his charismatic charms.

However, she was different. She still remembered the very first time he laid his eyes on her at the bar, making his way over to her drunkenly before attempting to flirt as his speech slurred every other sentence. Feeling sorry for the man for his futile attempt, she written down her number and placed it in the inner pockets of his expensive suit before leaving the place -explaining all that had transpired in the bar. The apologetic call she received the morning after was the beginning of many dates and endless courting before he got down on one knee and promised her a together after.

But soon she realized all of his antics and sweet words were nothing more than a mere bluff. She could never forget the night she came home earlier from a business trip to surprise him, only to find his infidelity with another woman – far prettier, blond and softer than she was. Despite the love she had spilled glasses over for him, all he could ever return her was his unfaithfulness and her broken, unamendable heart.

“Come my love.” He cooed, honey-like voice cutting through the thoughts that ran through her erratic mind. She knew what was about to transpire at this moment – she had searched up all of the fates of his previous lovers and here she was, being the next one. All those he wished to dispose of, he shall do so at the top of the cliffside that overlooked the beautiful city landscaped that came to life during the night. No one would ever suspect any foul play when a woman falls to her death as the theatrical act of a despaired lover, he played could throw them off so well. She complied of course, holding his hand gently as he pulled her towards the edge of the cliff where soon she would meet her inevitable end.

As they reached the edge, his strong arms wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close as his lips met against hers in a passionate kiss. She returned it with equal fervor and aggression, hands resting on the side of his jaw and neck as her fingers scratched the hair that she could reach. Whispers of 'I love you' and affectionate profanities slipped at any second their lips managed to part away. The kiss was heated, desperate – like they were clawing through the flames of ignited passion, trying to reach for the escape before it burns them alive.

The demons of regret clawed their way through his existence ever since he engaged in lustful acts with another woman. He had never felt such sorrow in his life after years of toying and stringing the heart and souls of women, only to dispose of them once he had his fair share. But she was different. From the way she speaks to the manner she walked. How her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to complete a task to the way her kisses made him feel different anytime they shared one.

He pulled away shortly after, resting his forehead against hers as he stared into her beautiful eyes. Eyes that were filled with dreaded hope and compassion for a criminal such as he. His hand that rested on her waist trailed up to capture the lotus pendant that rests snugly against her collarbones – a gifted he had presented to her alongside the engagement ring that wrapped around her delicate finger. He wanted to hold onto her, till the end of time if fate ever permitted – if she ever permitted.

“In loving memory of my wife.” He started before finally, he shoved her off the cliff watching how beautiful she looked as she leaned back to allow her inevitable end. She smiled softly, grabbing onto his wrist at the last second as she pulled him along with her. She wasn’t going to let him go for another woman – never again. “And my husband.”

Their arms entangled with each other; their lips met in a final kiss as they both fell down the cliff in each other’s arms to spend the rest of their afterlife for all of eternity. Their body was found the morning after, entangled with one another in a deformed, tattered embrace. The story of their love and tragic death spread pass the many seas, becoming a folklore as the two lovers who will never allow fate to separate them even in death.

[yandere-sins]

May I please request number 12. Bite Marks and number 14. Carving for Nagito Komaeda? thank you so much :)

Will do! Thank you for requesting ^-^ I will give you some submissive yandere and trickster darling today. Tomorrow? Who knows. I will say, I’d rate it mature, but nothing really happens.

Bite marks - “You.. love me right.. not them? Oh god please say you love me..!!” 

Carving - “Please! You can use me all you like don’t leave me!”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

“I love you.”

The clanking of the food tray crashing to the ground was your smallest concern at that moment. You kept your eyes pinned to the ceiling, not acknowledging Nagito’s shock in favor of maintaining the surprise as nonchalant as possible. It wasn’t the time to give him satisfaction; it was merely time to make him fret a little.

“But Hajime... I’m not sure. I keep thinking about him. Wondering what he’s been up to since I left. Maybe that’s love too?”

The gulp he did was audible, as you mentioned his former friend. You had never tried before or even thought that it might affect Nagito to talk about your feelings, rather than the feelings you had towards him after he kidnapped and strapped you to a bed. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he wanted to say something, but aside from small croaks, nothing escaped from his vocals.

Ignoring the fallen tray, he walked back to your bed, standing beside you like the creep he was. Nagito staring down at you wasn’t a comfortable ordeal, and you never knew what he thought as he watched you quietly. Sadly, this had become too much of a norm to bother you anymore. Did he figure out you were pulling at his heartstrings with well-placed words and doubts? Would Nagito see through your lies?

Sinking to his knees, he leaned on the mattress, peering at you sharply. But him fidgeting gave away that he tried to play it cool while, really, he was just his usual self - a mess. Intrigued, needy, and most importantly, desperate for any acknowledgment from you.

“[Name], say it again,” he asked timidly, but he couldn’t hide the desire cracking in his voice.

“Do you think it’s possible? Loving two people?” you continued, undeterred by Nagito’s need.

Immediately, a hand snapped forward, moderating itself before it laid down on the cheek furthest away from him, pushing to have you turn your head. Finally, you looked at him. Immediately, you found the disgusting satisfaction he felt from receiving your gaze on him, plastered all over his face. “Say you love me again,” Nagito urged. You were disgusted by his touch, his thumb caressing your cheek so very affectionately, but you would take it if it helped fulfill your plan.

“But I’m not sure, maybe I love Hajime--”

“No, no, no!” he yelled suddenly. Before long, both hands were cupping your face in them while his legs climbed over you. “You said you love me! You love me! Me!” One moment, Nagito seemed pained by you speaking another man’s name, his hands shaking and eyes wildly searching for clues that would confirm him. But now that your mouth kept quiet, you saw a familiar yet strange sense of despair crawling into his expression.

“You.. love me, right... not him? Oh god, please say you love me!”

Nagito took a deep breath, and you knew that he’d begin to talk like a waterfall now, almost unstoppable. If you weren’t talking to him, he’d monologue as long as needed to calm himself and some more, getting himself off the desperation and desire he felt. But not this time, not when you wouldn’t let him.

“I love you,” you stated as a matter of fact. It wasn’t supposed to sound happy, nor outright like sarcasm, you had to declare it as if it was no big deal or Nagito would see through your charade.

“Ah,” he sighed, lips curling into a smile while his face flushed red. “You do love me,” he muttered, his expression gradually becoming more distorted from happiness. “You love me, too! Finally! I loved you all this time. Every second since we met, I loved you. I love you! You love me!”

Nothing you could have done against him leaning down, lifting your head as much as your restraints allowed, kissing you. He did it before, and as always, it was a sloppy, needy kiss, just this time, you moved your lips ever so slightly to reciprocating it. Spurred on by your actions, Nagito deepened it, moans shuddering over his lips while he kept demanding more and more. Disgusted, you gave it to him, let him have it. Waited for him to pull away first to take a breather.

He had closed his eyes for the kiss, but when he opened them again, you immediately caught them with yours. Panting against your lips, when he approached again, you denied him the kiss ever so slightly, causing him to whine softly. He had no reason to stop but perhaps, not wanting to be hated again, did it for him.

“Untie me,” you whispered seductively, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away, watching as he leaned in for more. “Let me love you, Nagito.”

There was so much fighting with himself, all of it showing in his expression. However, the part of him that didn’t think it was a good idea to free you slowly but surely lost to the one that wanted so desperately to be loved by you. Wholly and fully, and hopefully with remaining marks as to always remember.

This time when he leaned in for a kiss, you let him, pleased him by returning the affection. It was the test to see if you genuinely were devoted, some part of his mind careful of not being scammed by you. But with you two eagerly exchanging your breaths, his doubts melted away until he finally pulled his hands from your face to reach above you two, fiddling with the ropes around your wrists.

The tugs and pulls hurt, but it was nothing compared to the racing of your heart, the knowledge this was working. He really was freeing you. He really was doing it! You felt your hand collapse onto the bed the moment the rope stopped holding it in place. The wound was throbbing, but you only strained your neck to kiss him more, packed with excitement and urging him on. His hesitation before untying the second rope disappeared, and he began to loosen it even quicker.

“[Name]... [Name]!” he kept calling out to you as if you’d disappear if he didn’t speak up. You soothed his anxiety with your presence, allowing your bodies to warm each other, used all your strength to move your arm at least forward again. Nagito sunk into your palm even though you couldn’t use it properly.

Like a child into the affection of a parent, he was so damn naive.

It was just a matter of time now. You did it carefully, using him and his desire to be touched and caressed by you to train your hands, do what had to be done. Even if it meant you had Nagito rub all over you, impatiently waiting for more of your love and affection, you knew it would at least keep him unaware and well-disposed to the biggest part of your plan.

Finally, you managed to use your arms again. They still hurt and strained upon moving, but you took that in exchange for your freedom. Hugging Nagito, you fogged his mind with another deep kiss, pressing your body against him until he caved away, the position changing quickly. Now on top of him, you giggled and played along, pushing his arms back over his head and driving your hands over them promisingly.

“Let me tie you up, alright? I want to be the one giving you all the love. You don’t need to do even a single thing.”

Nagito froze, having the same kind of fight with himself that he had before untying you, but you simply cozied up to him, kissed from his temples to his chin. “Pretty please? Let me make it up to you and show you my love,” you purred, feeling absolutely disgusted by the pleading implications in your words. But whatever needed to be done, you were willing to do.

“O-Okay,” he finally agreed, shivering lightly while you grinned. “You’re such a good boy,” you praised him as you slowly but surely wrapped the rope around his wrists. “I love you, [Name],” he whimpered, trying to hide the pain he felt as you pulled the ropes skin-tight. “I know,” you pressed out from between your teeth. “I fucking know.”

Leaning back after securing the triple knot, you let your head fall into your neck, looking up at the ceiling one last time. You had seen it so much the last few days, counted all the holes in it and spiders crawling over it. But no longer. And you didn’t care if Nagito would have to rot down here for all eternity either. “What a shit hole,” you complained, inelegantly climbing off him and onto your feet.

Immediately dizziness hit you as you stood straight up again, but this would be the last thing stopping you now. Your legs seemed to have trouble keeping you on top of them, but holding on to chairs standing around and the walls did the trick, leading you towards the door. “[Name]? Where are you going?” Nagito called after you. “Hey! Don’t leave me--”

“Shut up, Nagito. It’s over,” you hissed back over your shoulder. “I am getting out of here! I am not staying even one second longer!”

“No... wait!”

The cold, iron door felt heavenly against your irritated skin. It felt like happiness and freedom, and you were so thankful for reaching it after everything you went through. By now, Nagito couldn’t see you anymore, but you heard him frantically tearing on the ropes. Luckily, they were solid and reliable, even after all the strain you had applied to them.

“Please! You can use me all you like, but don’t leave me!” Nagito screamed after you, and you could hear his voice cracking. He must have been crying, but you were the last one to feel pity for him. Instead, you pushed down the door handle, not wanting to spend one more second in this depressing room. You were so close, only one step away from it.

But the door didn’t open.

Rattling it, you kept pushing and pulling at it, growing more and more frustrated every time it didn’t move. You knew it could open. You had heard it work for Nagito more than once!

Nagito.

Glaring back, it was quiet in the room. He should have been bawling his eyes out by now, screamed, and begged. And yet, nothing echoed around you; only the small sounds of a chuckle reached your ears.

Furious, you stomped back to him, pushing aside everything that was in the way. “Where’s the key!” you screamed, repeating the question with every step. “Where’s the fucking key!”

When you reached him, all that remained on his face was something akin to a pitying smile, eyes that were no less condescending than yours were. “Oh, Darling,” he muttered. “There never was a key. We are in a bunker, underground, buried. The only way to get out of here now...”

Nagito paused, taking a deep breath, his smile only growing while you felt your heart drop and your last nerves popping. “Ah, beautiful,” he whispered, looking at you, knowing one thing for sure.

“How do I get out,” you asked him, trying to remain calm.

“It’s despairing, isn’t it?” Nagito replied undeterred, playing your very own game.

It was.

“You’re feeling absolute despair, now that you realize you are stuck here with me. And if I die, you won’t ever find out how to leave. Isn’t it truly beautiful? I am so lucky to be stuck with you now; even dying from your negligence won’t bother me, you know?”

“How. Do I. Get out,” you repeated your question, your voice shivering from anger.

“Ah, maybe I will remember,” he teased you. “But only if you give me the love you promised me. Pretty please? I know I am insatiable, but if you really want to know...”

Feeling your whole world crumble to ashes around you, you knew he would never tell you. If it even was true that you weren’t just in a storage depot or bunker- and you’d make sure by destroying this whole place in search of a key - you needed him to guide you to get out from the underground he described. Needed to do what he wanted you. Needed to love him.

And you wondered if right from the beginning, he had known what you planned to do and decided to play the puppet caught in your strings.

Little had you expected Nagito to be the puppeteer all along.

[You can find the prompt list here]

[akirasdigbick]

Hi there. I just discovered your Nightmares & Despairs AU and I love it! Can’t wait to see and read Nobori and Kudari fight monsters together plus other things that could happen like Unova possibly going up in flames! Also quick question though please! Who proposed first? Kudari or Nobori? Thanks so much! 💚

Hello! I'm glad to hear that you love the Nightmares & Despairs AU so far! I do plan to sketch a scene of the two fighting a monster sometime soon (maybe this weekend?). It'll just be under the submas tag only when I do ever get to posting the sketch(es).

I can try to write a story for the AU and post it on Ao3, but my writing is really only good for comics and storyboards so like 🙃.

You are also definitely not far off with the speculation of Unova going up in flames! The poor region becomes infected by the Frenzy Virus and everything regresses back to olden times via PLA style but more MH, (albeit there are some tidbits of technology here and there, but it's not much they can work with sadly). The population of both humans and Pokemon start to die off from the virus and those who survive the virus are seen as a danger to whatever is left of society.

And to answer the final portion of your question, Nobori was the first to propose. Below, is a more detailed yet short explanation of how the whole proposal ordeal went.

Poor dude was such a nervous wreck around Kudari the entire day. Kudari at first thought that Nobori was trying to break up with him and was just too nervous/scared to tell him. This speculation leads to an argument between the two.

Kudari tries to run off, but Nobori grabs his arm to stop him from running off and tell him that no, he's not going to break up with him and that the reason for why he was nervous around him the entire day was because he was trying to propose!

This leads to Nobori showing the engagement ring box to Kudari to prove it to him and then kneeling on one knee to propose to him, asking Kudari to marry him. Kudari starts crying at the sight and in turn causes Nobori to freak out and think that he messed up and shouldn't have proposed. Though Nobori's thoughts change when Kudari is suddenly hugging him tightly, tears falling and telling him a soft yes, yes I'll marry you. Nobori hugs back tightly and tears fall from his own eyes, happy with the answer he received.

[a-monsters-love]

Hit with a quirk that turns adults to children

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: massive fluff. angst if ya’ squint

Warnings: implications of abuse, little OOC Shoto but its cannon that he smiled more when he was a kid (the gif is a perfect example) 

A/N: FIC SWAP WITH @hxwks-gf​ ILY2 SWEETS - You’ll find her fic [here] 

(Y/N) = Your name

(E/C) = Eye color

(H/C) = Hair color

[Master List]

—————

“How could this happen?” Endeavor hissed at Aizawa.

Aizawa, who looks like he’s about to explode on the man in front of him, lets out a deep sigh. “As I said before, Shoto got hit with a civilians quirk. It should wear off in the next couple days.” Endeavor scowls at you as you cross your arms and deadpan at him, your frame standing protectively in front of a now child Shoto. Shoto’s been holding on to you desperately for the past few hours since the incident, only letting go once to get changed into the smallest gym uniform the school could provide.

You offered to hold him but he chose to take refuge in the back of your legs rather than face the situation. The two of you had been working together on a project for Aizawa when you ran into villains on the street, at some point Shoto had a run in with a civilian who accidentally turned him into a child with their quirk. The face of despair and unbridled childlike tears that welled up in his eyes will haunt you.

“I don’t have time for this.” Endeavor groans, he pulls out his phone and calls Fuyumi. She’s a school teacher she should be able to handle this, right? After about 20 minutes of light bickering on the phone, he comes back. Neither of his siblings can help and his mother is ‘sick’.

You look back at Shoto’s shaking frame and take a deep breath, “I’ll take him.” The two heroes look at you with raised eyebrows. “As Aizawa already knows, I have the next few days off for personal reasons. Which means I have plenty of time on my hands to take care of a kid.” You squeak through the tension in the air.

Aizawa sighs, “Are you going to be able to handle it though? With everything going on?”

You laugh softly and rub little Shoto’s head, “I’m great with kids, and I could use the company.” You smile sadly at your teacher, who only nods in response.

Endeavor huffs and kneels down to Shoto, who hides himself further in your knees. “Contact me if anything happens.” He says looking at you.

“Of course, sir.” You had your suspicions before about Shoto’s childhood, this only brought the situation to light. Never have you ever seen the calm and collected Shoto petrified enough to have him in tears. “I will be running by your family home to pick him up a few different pairs of clothing. We don’t know how long this will last.” You tell him, you don’t bother asking. You don’t care for his opinion, he just needs to leave.

He nods in agreement and provides you the address and a vague idea on where to look. After he does, you scoop up your quivering classmate and speed walk out the door. He freezes at first but instinctually wraps his arms around you and buries his embarrassed face in your neck.

He hasn’t said a word since the incident and you don’t know how much of the man you know is still in there. As much as the idea of your crush burying his face into your neck makes you blush, protecting him is your first priority.

You quickly make your way to the Todoroki residence, well, as quick as you could. Shoto quietly asked to be put down about half way there, you walked as quickly as his little legs could comfortably take him.

When you arrived you looked at the note Endeavor gave you once more, “Alright, so, your father said there’s should be a box in the attic with your old clothing.” You squatted down and smiled at him, a small embarrassed expression was still present on his face. “Do you want to look with me, Shoto?”

He glances at you with a blush, the two of you weren’t on a first name basis outside of fact that his Hero name is his first name. Honestly you couldn’t find it in your bones to call a little kid by his last name, it felt too weird. He nods shyly, “Yes…(Y-(Y/N)…” His voice was almost a whisper.

You giggled a bit and finger combed out a few ruffles in his hair, “Wonderful, because I have no idea where your attic is.” The comment earns you a stifled laugh from the boy and he pulls you along by the finger.

After pulling down the latter to the attic you send Shoto up first, following close behind. You both cough at the dust but quickly find the boxes, after he pulls out a few outfits you inspect them for signs of deterioration. When you find no problems you both leave the attic and head down to wash the old clothing.

Shoto freezes as he passes through a hallway, the color has run from his face. “(Y-(Y/N)..” His voice shook as he stared at a door, you walk up to him slowly and offer your arms for him.

He awkwardly steps into your embrace, “Lets wash these at my house.” You say quietly, rubbing his back.

When you get home you walk in and show him where to put his shoes, “I’m home.” You say loudly to the nearly empty home. A meow is heard from upstairs and you wait as your old cat walks down the stairs to greet you. “Hello Cali, I’m home. I brought a friend.” You pet the cat who wasted no time rubbing up on Shoto. “This is Shoto, he’s going to be with us for a few days.” You explain to the cat, who meows lazily in return.

You chuckle as Shoto shyly pets the cat, “I’ve never had any pets before...” He says quietly.

You hum a bit and head to your wash room, “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to experience having one while you’re with me.” You smile at him, he slowly follows you poking his head around doors and entryways.

“Where’s your family?” He asks, noticing the lack of life in your house.

You croon at the question, “It’s just me and Cali. It’s been like that for awhile.” That was all you could manage on the situation as you made sure his clothing was set in the washer.

Regret is visible on his young face and he brought his hands to his mouth, “O-oh..I’m sorry..” He murmured towards the floor.

A chuckle escapes you, how can he be so cute? He looks up in confusion at you, “You did nothing wrong Shoto, you don’t have to apologize. Why don’t you go explore while I clean up a bit?” He nods at you and runs off, you walk up stairs and open up your little brothers old room. You move to open up the window and start dusting off the contents of the room when you hear heavy little feet making their way up the stairs. “Find anything interesting?” You ask.

Turning you see him carrying Cali, his arms scooped under the cats front legs in a manner that makes the beast look long. “You have a piano.” He says, you can hear stifled interest in his voice. Your heart breaks at the fact that a 5 year old is stifling their emotions.

“I do indeed!” You chirp while putting new sheets on the bed. “Do you like pianos?”

You can almost see the gears moving in his head. “They sound pretty.” He finally says, releasing the cat.

You chuckle as you finish cleaning up. “They do, my mom taught me to play when I was your age. She told me that music is the window to ones soul.”

It’ll be nice having him around, you think seeing him look at you in awe. “You can play it?” He asks, excitement can be heard in his voice for the first time.

“I can, I just had it tuned too.” You smile widely at him, glad his wall is coming down. “But first, we must bathe!” You scoop him up and tickle his stomach, “I think we’re both pretty stinky.”

He giggles from being tickled and then blushes at the idea of bathing with you. “Together?” He mumbles, you blush a bit at the comment.

“I-If you would prefer me being there, I su-suppose we could figure something out.” You stammer.

He doesn’t say anything as you walk to the bathroom and start filling up the bath when he pulls on your shirt, you look back at him and squat down. You tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to choose his words. “Stay?” He asks.

You smile, “Of course. Let me go grab a few things and we’ll get in.” You rush to your room and change into a bathing suit, grabbing your brothers old swim suit from his dresser. You hear a loud splash as you walk back, you see Shoto wet in his clothing from the trying to turn off the water. “Someone’s excited.” You tease.

He looks at you with a distressed pouting face, “N-No I-.” He stutters as you move to turn off the water. “I was trying to do that..”

You laugh and offer him the shorts, as he changes you move to grab a few bath soaps and bubble bath. “I appreciate all your help, Shoto.” You say walking back, helping him into the tub. Both of you let out a small sigh as you sink into the hot water, causing small chuckles between you.

You scrub off some of the slime from the day and start pouring bubble soap into the bath. “What’s that stuff?” He asks.

“Oh-Ho. Bubbles of course.” You wink at him and quickly mix the soap to create bubbles. He helps you make bubbles, he giggles a bit at the action and then blushes.

Shoto doesn’t understand what’s come over him, his mind is still all there but he has so much less control over his emotions, let alone his behavior. He hasn’t meant to say half the stuff he has since the accident. He watches you happily go along with his childish antics as if the whole situation were normal. You smile at him when you catch him staring and scoop bubbles onto his head. “H-Hey!” He whines, pushing bubbles at you.

You laugh as he falls into you, the tub is smaller than you’d like but you’re content with space you have. “Careful there.” You scoop him up, you find his eyes wandering along the deep scars all over your body. You reached for the sponge, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You say softly.

Without realizing it Shoto found himself sitting on your thighs, tracing the scars on your shoulder with his fingers. He jumped back when he felt the soapy sponge touch his arm. “I can do it!” He said louder than he meant.

You hand him the sponge and grab another to scrub yourself. You get out of the tub to rinse off and wash your hair before he’s done. “Come here when you’re done, I want to wash your hair.” You say, he just nods with a bright blush.

He gets out by the time you start putting conditioner in your hair. “I can wash my own hair..” He mumbles, awkwardly sitting in front of you.

“I know you can, but I want to.” You say quietly, this whole situation is like a fever dream for you. Getting to wash your crushes hair and satiating the hole that was left without your family? Win-win (Y/N). “I like doing these things.” You say as you put shampoo in his hair.

“Why?” He asks plainly.

You hum as you massage his scalp, a small sigh leaves him from the feeling. “I like spoiling people I care about.” You blush a bit at the statement, blaming the steam for the heat in your face.

“Y-you care about me?” The question broke your heart.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t have brought you to my family home or shared a bath with you if I didn’t.” A smile can be heard in your words, he doesn’t say anything.

He sat with his thoughts as you rinsed his hair of shampoo and started applying conditioner. The ‘shared a bath’ comment running through his mind, partially clarifying the fluttering in his chest when he’s around you. Maybe I can ask these questions since she thinks I’m a kid mentally.  he thinks, “Hey, (Y/N)?” You hum in response. “What does it mean when your belly flops around?”

“Hmm, in the literal sense or do you mean when you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach?” You ask, focusing more on detangling his unfairly soft hair.

“Like butterflies.” He murmurs.

“Well, it can indicate excitement, anticipation, nervousness but often times it‘s a sign of love-“ Your breath hitches in your throat are the last word, a deep blush taking over your face. You make a feeble attempt to finish your work.

You were so focused on trying to hide you embarrassment you didn’t see Shoto’s reddening face. He stood up quickly and grabbed the shower head from the floor. “I’ll r-rinse your hair.” He says, giving you no time to argue as he walked around you and started the rinsing the conditioner out of your hair.

Both of you felt like your heads were going to pop, while the feeling of his little hands in your hair provoked giggles from you. You reached back and helped him, he struggled getting out knots from your hair and elected to leave them for you to sort out. His small frame doing him no justice as his hands traced the scars on your back but froze. “It’s okay.” You said softly, letting his childishly addled mind explore. You imagined if you had children they’d would do the same thing. “Let me rinse your hair when you’re done studying.” You tease. The comment pulled him from his wonder and he sat in front of you.

After the bath you both changed into pajamas. He lets you blow dry and brush his hair and followed you around like a ducking into the kitchen. “Can I help?” He asks on his toes at the counter, watching you pull out food for prep.

“Of course, pull up a chair.” You respond pointing at the kitchen table and he does just that. He pulls up a chair and you have him washing vegetables while you prepare a pan to cook in and start the rice cooker. “How does Oyakodon sound?” You ask looking through your fridge.

“I don’t mind as long as you make it.” His tone was soft, he didn’t dare to look at you in his own embarrassment. I didn’t mean to say that, he thinks.

You smile widely and pat his head gently, “You are too sweet, ya’ know that?” You giggle softly. “I’ll get you to decide on what you want tomorrow.”

He smiles lightly as you take the vegetables from him. He pushes the chair closer to the stove to watch you cook and watches how delicately but precise each movement you make is. He knows a little about cooking but he can’t understand how you quickly made a dish that seems so complicated.

He drags the chair back to the table when you start serving the dinner, he sits down excitedly as you bring out his plate. A happy noise escapes him as he starts to eat. You smile softly at his childish behaviors, “You’ll be a good mom.” He says with after chewing.

You chuckle and pull rice off his cheek, eating it yourself. “Maybe, I’ll need to find a husband first, and I’m pretty sure boys are terrified of me.” You recall interactions with other students after the sports festival, the girls were all excited but the boys seemed to shy away.

“You’re not scary!” He says almost dropping his spoon, you laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re not! You’re so nice and helpful and smart and-and pretty!” He felt like the room was spinning as he spat out how he felt, why did I say that?! He scolded himself internally, looking down. “If I could eat your food all the time I’d be your husband.” His words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear him, but you did.

You felt like your heart could jump out of your chest, my crush just said he’d be my husband! HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT?? You tried to keep your face passive, coughing slightly to hide the quandary you’re in. “Maybe when you’re older.” An awkward giggle escapes you, “You’d have to be my boyfriend first though.”

His face was red but he nodded and scooped the last of his food into his mouth. “Okay.” He said with food in his mouth, “I’ll be (Y/N)’s boyfriend.” He continued, more to himself than you, nodding as if he just came to an agreement. You nearly choke on your drink before you both chuckle awkwardly, “Are you gonna play a song on the piano?” He asks as you take the dishes and wash them, letting him help store the left overs.

“I can, what kind of song?” You hum.

Shoto pauses and thinks about it, he doesn’t say anything until you walk up to the standing piano. “Something for me?” His voice was almost a squeak.

You turn and look at him, he’s looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Maybe a song that reminds me of him? That’s not too tough, you hum and pat the space next to you on the piano bench. “I think I’ve got one.” You scoop him into your lap, giggling as he makes a feeble attempt to escape. “I don’t want to elbow you on accident.” When he stops wiggling around and you start playing the song, singing out the lyrics quietly as he watched your finger fly delicately across the keys. The harsher notes surprise him, but he glances at you with a slack jaw. Your eyes half lidded followed your hands across the keys, a small smile curled at your lips.

“You can do everything.” He gasps, earning himself a bashful blushing smile from you.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” He nods happily at your suggestion.

He ended up sitting curled into you, under a blanket, you made herbal tea and put on some movie he chose. While finishing his drink it didn’t take long to get tired, he rubbed his eyes incessantly. “I’ll lay down after the movie.” He yawned a soft plea, you can’t imagine how tired his young body must be. Even as an adult, the day you had was a bit much.

He fell asleep not long after, you scooped him up and laid him down in your brothers old room. You left his door open after tucking him in and walked into your own room. You plopped on top of the blankets and dozed off quickly.

You woke up a few hours later to the soft sounds of crying, stifled and buried noises. You quickly got out of bed and walked over to the source, “Shoto? What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

He made an awkward grunt while wiping his face in the pillow, “Nothing, bad dream. I-I’m okay.” He pleas, but his childish form betrays him. “I’m sorry for waking you..”

“Well, you don’t look ‘okay’ to me.” You tease a bit, “Come here.” He instinctually follows you back to your room, you sit him on your much softer bed and wipe his face. “It’s okay to not be okay, Shoto.” You pat his scarred cheek, thumbing at stray tears before crawling into bed behind him. “Come lay down, take advantage of being little.” You say, you’re clearly still half asleep as you lift you arm for him to choose to lay with you or not.

It doesn’t take long for him to crawl into your bed, curling his sleepy small frame into your arms. The smell of you consumes his mind, calming him down. You pet his hair and rub shapes into his back until you both fall asleep.

——

“AH.” You woke to the sound of a surprised little Shoto, I thought that was a dream. He thought when he woke up wrapped in your arms and nuzzles into your chest.

You rubbed and picked at your eyes as he scooted away from you, glancing over at him. Oh yeah, “You sleep okay?” You’re far too tired to be embarrassed.

He watches you stretch out, your hair and clothing are disheveled. You’re glancing at him with half lidded bedroom eyes, your morning voice was softer and raspier than usual. A blush consumes him, I wish I was grown right now. He thinks, Wait…What? “Ah, y-yeah actually.” He rubbed his own eyes, “I slept good.” Better than he had in a long time.

You smile and sit up, quickly getting out of bed. “Good, why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll start breakfast.” You wink and smile at him as you head to the bathroom. He just stares at the door for a moment before rushing to the other room.

Shoto follows you down the stairs after you’re both dressed, noting you’re semi-casual clothing. “I have one thing I have to do today.” You tell him, “After that we’ll be free to do whatever you want.” You start reheating rice and cooking meat for breakfast, along with prepping food for lunch.

“You’re cooking a lot of food.” He comments from over the bar.

A soft smile graces your face, “We’re going to see my family today.” He notes the mild sadness in your face but doesn’t push.

“What are they like?” He asks walking around the counter to enter the kitchen.

“Oh they’re wonderful, my mom is very goofy. She loves music and weird philosophy that I still don’t understand.” You laugh talking about her, “My dad was a loud man, he’s soft and loved when he could take care of me and my brother. My brother on the other hand is a lot like the other boys in our class. A bit of a screw ball but he always means well.” Shoto quietly watches you talk passionate about your family, he smiles softly at the way you smile wide enough for dimples to show.

You set a plate down for him, you eat in the kitchen while you finish packing lunch. “You think they’ll like me?” He asks between bites.

You laugh, “They would have loved you.” Thoughts flash in Shoto’s head, she’s introducing me to her parents? He’s enamored with the idea but his current situation makes it very strange.

He loses himself in thought, not noticing you packing incense into your picnic basket. You feed Cali and start cleaning up, check the weather, and take your time cleaning up. You make a glass of fruit tea for Shoto, who’s watching cartoons. You watch him blow on it and take a careful sip when his face lights up, “This is yummy.” He smiles shyly.

“I’m glad, it was my favorite when I was your age.” You chuckle.

“What’s your favorite now?”

You hum at the question, “I haven’t met a tea I didn’t like. I’m not sure.” You stared blankly at the TV in consideration, it’s been a long time since you’ve been unsure of something so simple.

A couple hours pass before you leave for your picnic. Shoto wishes he could help you carry the basket and blanket, he fails to notice where you’re both headed until you stop. You pull out a key card and open the gate to a cemetery for Heroes, he looks up at you in concern but you smile softly back at him and pat his hair. When you finally stop you set up a blanket in front of a decorated family head stone, he just stares at you in surprise. He goes to say something when someone else calls your name. “Miss (Y/N)!” You look over and see an older man. “Is it the anniversary already?”

You wave as he walks up, “Takahashi! Good to see you old timer. It is, I can’t believe you still work here.”

He laughs loudly, “Your parents saved my life so of course I do! Who’s the tyke?” He asks peering around you.

Shoto bows politely, “I’m Shoto! Who are you?”

You both chuckle, “Polite young thing,” He says to you. “I’m Takahashi Jin, grounds keeper of this ‘er cemetery.” He smiles to Shoto, “You two enjoy your lunch, don’t get into trouble like last time missy!” He teases and turns to leave.

“Me? Trouble? Never. Not even once.” You snort, winking at Shoto who chuckles. You both chuckle further when you hear the old man huff.

Shoto lights the incense and both give your prayers before you open up lunch. Neither of you pay any mind to the strange looks you get as time goes on. Shoto doesn’t understand your happiness as you sit in a cemetery eating lunch with a classmate, you’re alone in this world. His heart aches but he’s glad you seem okay. The old man from earlier stop by again and hands you a few flyers, “You think we should go?” You ask Takahashi with knitted brows. He nods, sending an empathetic smile. You shrug and hand the papers to Shoto.

“A festival?” He looks at you wide eyed, “Can we go?”

“If you want to, then absolutely.”

“I’ve never been to one,” He whispers to himself behind the paper.

——

When you return to the house you drop the basket off on the counter and run upstairs. Shoto follows behind but waits as you head into a room he hasn’t seen yet, “Shoto, come here.” You call, he walks in hesitantly and looks around. “Face the door for a moment.” He does, only glancing over as he realizes your measuring him. “Yeah, this should fit.” Your voice was excited.

He turns to see you have a set of matching yukata’s, a larger white one with red geometric flowers on it, the smaller one was white with fine red and black lines running across it. “We’ll match?” He asks, these types of things were never something his father allowed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You poke at him, “Let’s get changed. It’s a bit of a ways away.”

You got him changed first, making sure the Geta sandals fit him. Once he’s sorted you make your way to your room, of course putting on a yukata alone isn’t easy, you groaned internally. It took you longer than you would’ve like to get ready, the outfit then the hair, natural makeup, the whole nine. You grabbed a small shoulder bag and your shoes as you finished.

You stared at the hair stick before grabbing it and walking down the stairs. “Shoto, can you help me with something?” You heard him run over before you saw him, he blushed and gasped at you.

“You look so pretty.” He whispered, cupping his mouth in embarrassment.

You hand him the hair pin and kneel down, “Can you put this in for me?” He looks at the hair stick and then at your hair, his expression softens as you allow him to put it where he likes. “My hero, thank you.” He blushes at the comment but doesn’t say anything. You offer him your hand to hold, he grabs your pinky and ring finger and the two of you set off.

—

“Wow.” He gasps, the streets are lines with lanterns as stalls, you hold his hand and let him pull you to everything that grabs his attention. You buy snacks as you go, you show him and a few other kids your goldfish catching skills and ended up giving all the fish away. You wouldn’t be able to take care of them anyway, the two of you stop by a mask stall. He stares at them in curiosity, the person running the stall explains them and lets him try on a few.

You look at your phone for the time and lift him up, “Look up.” You tell him, as he does fireworks go off. It’s the first time you’ve seen pure childish glee on his face since the incident, if ever. Everyone stares at the fireworks calmly as they go.

When they finish you walk over to a food stand, “Soba!” He cheers, you laugh and order him a bowl. You quickly find a bench to sit at and eat, “Did you know I like soba a lot?” He asked innocently.

“Yes I did, I thought you’d like to have some at your first street festival.”

He watches you eat Takoyaki with a content smile, he didn’t realize you heard that comment. “How long is this going on for?”

You hummed as you finished chewing, “3 more days, I think.” You wipe your mouth, “Did you want to come back?”

He chuckles softly, “Maybe when I’m older.” You smile at him, not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Is this a date?” His question caused you to almost choke on your food.

You looked away as you regained your composure, “I s-suppose i-it is.” You stammer out, your cheeks dust with blush and you’re grateful for the dim lighting. When you glance back at him you see a soft smile on his face, what on earth is going through his mind?

After another hour of playing around you both head back to your home, “Thank you.” He says, squeezing your fingers.

Squeezing his little hand back you hum, “What for?”

“Everything.” His voice was small but content.

You pat his hair with your free hand, “It was my pleasure, Shoto.” You watch the stars as you walk, “Thank you for meeting my family, it’s lonely to go by myself.” You sigh softly.

He glances up at you, “You’re welcome. I don’t want you to be lonely.” You look down at him, a sad smile graces your face. “I’m here for you since you’re gonna be my wife.” His hand quickly covers his mouth at the comment but you can see the smile he’s hiding.

The single comment broke the sadness on your face, causing you to laugh. “That’s a good reason.” You snicker as you make it back to your house.

“We’re home.” You say to the mostly empty house. “Let’s get changed and off to bed.” He nods and follows you up the stairs.

He falls asleep quickly as you tuck him into bed, when you’re sure he’s asleep you press a soft kiss to his forehead and head to bed yourself.

Shoto wasn’t completely asleep when you left a soft kiss on his skin. A smile grew on his face as he got comfortable, you curled into bed quickly dozing off yourself.

You were stirred in the middle of the night by heavy weight of a body curling into your chest and neck. You didn’t bother opening your eyes as you sleepily remembered your guest, you lazily wrapped your arms around him and found his head of hair with you hand to pet as you drifted. “Sleep well, Shoto.” You mumbled as you started to doze back off.

Shoto, now fully grown, had made quick and delicate work of wrapping himself into you. A soft happy noise escaped you as you got comfortable, “I think I love you, (Y/N).” He said softly into your chest, assuming you were asleep.

You hum sleepily and squeeze him a bit, “I think I love you too Sho…” Your voice trailed off indicating your sleep, Shoto squeezes you back as a small happy smile crept up his face.

As much as being turned into a child could have been an absolute nightmare of a situation, he was happy to have had this time with you. He never understood why he was so drawn to you but after all this he seemed to understand more. He never thought being a kid again would have its advantages. He never thought you’d let him so deep into your personal life, between meeting your family, cooking for him and taking him to his first festival. All he wanted to do was stay in your life like this, now he was certain he actually could.

[gayacademicwriter]

a snippet | still dreaming | hero & villain

trigger warnings: death, blood, corpses, suicide, knives, mention of drunk driving

The nightmare was a fever dream.

Without pulling herself to her feet, the hero looked out over the landscape—dotted with fresh blood and bodies, the farthermost ones could have been poppies, save for their stillness. The air was awful, the smell of the thousands of decomposing bodies enough for there to have to be a forcible effort to keep the contents of her stomach from regurgitating, the wind that was breezing past the area not enough to clear the stench, only enough to blow her hair in her face. A face nearly identical to hers stared up at her from the ground, the cold, limp fingers entwined with hers, the feeling almost disgusting. Her brother was dead from a stab wound to the chest. The world tilted, and spun, blood and grass and death blurring together, before going black.

The hero was in a living room now, the Persian carpet soft beneath her bare feet, the fireplace roaring, making the room stifling hot; her mother in the rocking chair, the rocking chair not rocking. Despite the heat, her face was pale, her eyes were closed, and when the hero checked, she had no pulse. This time, the world went dark of the hero's own accord: in her dream, she fell to her knees and closed her eyes, and felt tears fall from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks, leaving their cold trail of despair as the scene around her changed.

Marble replaced the carpet, and the hero was scared to open her eyes. The swish of water back and forth caused her heart to sink. Opening her eyes barely a fraction, she saw the filled-up bathtub, the head slumped forward into it, the brilliant mind gone, the dark hair staining the water, the locks she had so enjoyed running her fingers through before looking for soft lips with hers. The bathroom was cold. That was all the information she needed as the dream pulled away from her again, dragging her mercilessly on.

The hero stood in front of the mirror. Her hair was shorter. Her eyes were empty. Her hand positioned the knife just above her heart.

The knife slid home.

She woke up.

Stumbling over her own feet as she woke up, she pushed the covers from her body, sitting up and staring at her hands that didn't quite look like hers.

She was still dreaming.

She was awake.

Head spinning, she shuffled to the bathroom. Was that her? Touching things didn't feel real. Perhaps she really was still dreaming. Her mother, and her brother, and her girlfriend weren't really dead, were they? That had just been a nightmare. She didn't know the truth. Weren't they coming over for dinner?

Brushing her hair, she felt vaguely like she was watching someone that looked like her. She dressed, and set the table, mumbling to herself all the while. She ignored the hero's outfit in the corner. She wanted to see her girlfriend again.

—

The villain crossed his legs, seated on the rooftop, checking his watch. No hero. She was supposed to show up to stop him in thirty seconds.

Twenty.

Ten.

Now.

No hero.

Frowning, he rappelled down the side of the building and set off towards the hero's apartment. If she was bringing backup, he would seriously have to reconsider showing up. Skirting around the main roads and sticking to the laneways, he made his way to the alley that the hero's fire escape emptied out into. His fingers touched the freezing metal as he hoisted himself up and he cursed silently, berating himself for not having brought gloves. The crisp fall air was intent on chilling him to the bone today, it seemed.

Clambering up to the fifth floor, he peered inside the hero's window. No crowds of police in tactical gear, the hero barking out instructions like a drill sergeant. No extra guns. The hero herself wasn't even in gear. She was sitting at a dinner table set for four, the plates void of food and the seats void of people, mumbling to herself as she put a hand out in front of her and stared at it curiously, as if unable to believe it was hers.

The villain shoved the window sash up and climbed in, wondering if the hero would even notice him. She did, but didn't seem to care.

"You must be really out of it if you don't care that I'm in your house," the villain said by way of greeting, pulling out the seat opposite her. Her eyes were eerily blank, with no sign that she recognized him.

"You're in my girlfriend's seat," she said.

That raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Annie will be here soon. You're taking her seat."

Annie, or Anna, had been the hero's girlfriend of six years, if he recalled correctly, before she had drowned herself in a bathtub after hearing that her father had been killed by a drunk driver. That had been a year ago.

"Hero," his voice was low as he spoke, "are you alright?"

"Hmmm?"

Her response settled it. She was dissociating hard, if not suffering amnesia.

"Annie couldn't make it. She had to help out her aunt with the baby."

"Oh." The hero's voice was so small. "What about Mam? And Ben?"

"They both couldn't make it either," the villain lied, recalling that both the hero's mother and brother were gone.

She stared sadly down at her plate. "They were supposed to come over for dinner."

"Another time," the villain promised, seriously hoping that she wouldn't remember this conversation. "Here. Let's go sit on the couch."

She did not seem inclined to move. He picked her up and put her on the couch. Her eyes were still blank as she looked up at the ceiling.

"Will they be okay?"

"Definitely." He really hoped that she wouldn't remember this. "Have you eaten today?"

She shook her head. The villain chanced a glance at the nearby clock. Three in the afternoon.

"Okay. You," he pointed at her, "stay here, and I will make you food."

"You're the best, Annie." She curled up and closed her eyes. The villain stumbled back into the kitchen, feeling out of it himself.

The hero woke up as the sun was setting, her sleep having been undisturbed by memories. There was mac 'n' cheese in a pot on the stove, and the table had been cleared. Why was she up so late? Why was she on the couch? Hadn't she set the table this morning for a reason she could no longer remember? The entire morning was a blur that she'd forgotten. She had missed her fight with the villain, too. Hopefully the agency would forgive that. Sighing, she ate dinner. The mac 'n' cheese did not taste like when how she made it. Perhaps in her hazy stupor of the morning, she'd done something differently.

The hero would never remember that morning. The villain would never forget it.

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