#growing fond of the place and risking their lives for their people

[heycupcake]

Been sporadically rewatching 13 lately, and I need to ramble because my god.

(disclaimer: I'm still not caught up with nuwho, missing 12, 11 and half of 10's run. eu-wise, I've only delved deeply into 5's era)

Starting off with the Fugitive's episode, because it almost made me cry. I had no idea of what was going on the first time I watched it; 13 was my first Doctor, so all the lore used to be lost on me.

Now tho? Absolute cinema. Goosebumps all over. 13's world crumbling all around her, I felt it to the bone. Her total rejection of Ruth's Doctor when she rigged that blaster weapon? It was a plan that many incarnations would have come up with, but in that case, she latched onto it like her whole identity was at stake. Maybe she always despised that cruel aspect of herself throughout regenerations, a trait that kept persisting despite not feeling properly hers. Now she knows it comes from a completely unknown part of herself, and it scares her to no end.

"A man is the sum of his memories, a Time Lord even more so." I love how this has become a reoccurring theme for the Doctor. They all are extremely protective of their identities when it comes to memory tampering. They latch onto what they've got and categorically refuse any change.

10 (Human Nature), Ruth and 13 all had to face the same scenario on that regard. When confronted with the choice of becoming someone else, to recover memories from their past that would make them whole but inevitably change them forever, they all tried to keep away from them and stay as they were. 10 and Ruth ultimately didn't have a choice and had to eventually comply, but 13? Nobody was there to force her, and she threw the damn watch in the depths of the TARDIS.

About the TARDIS, what an absolute treasure. 1 believing he stole her when in reality she was his all along. No wonder he chose that old type 40 out of all the other ships he could have taken (either out of reflex or because of some telepathic tampering). An old, abandoned ship that had been waiting for her owner for probably centuries.

The Timeless Child (not the episode). Such an origin story could have made the Doctor a deity; instead it made her a lab rat, kept her "humble". The power balance is still fully on the Time Lords' side, and I love that. She's no chosen one, she's not The Other, she's not a mastermind of any kind. Any unique ability that she had was copied and possibly improved on, making her either standard or obsolete among her peers (like, for all we know, the ability to control one's appearance during regeneration could an update that Tecteun worked on).

So, she's just another alien (sort of like Adric: comes from another universe, has good regenerative abilities, can mutate). I personally wasn't very thrilled with the implications made during 7's run, so i found this a nice way of recontextualizing them, making them more true to the earlier Doctors' nature, but without retconning them. Everything that 7 kept hinting at (in the tv series at least) still works, without losing any importance. And, the Doctor gets to stay the underdog they've always been.

Also, I mean, this alien child, just wandering off and getting kidnapped as a result is the most on-brand thing ever for the Doctor. (I could go on a separate ramble on how many companions found themselves in the same situation, often being kidnapped directly by the Doctor, but I digress. It's hilarious tho. Maybe some unconscious part of the Doctor uses it as a way to deal with their own kidnapping. Who knows)

[fromdeathtomorning]

♡ REVERSE AU

♡ SYNOPSIS. What if you were the otome game character in the game they were playing instead?

♡ FEATURING. Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

♡ CONTENT. nsfw (levi, asmo), slight yandere,

♡ A/NOTE. I love, love these sorts of aus! Best believe you'll see a lot of 'em from me

♡ LUCIFER

♡ He's the second-to-last person who becomes aware of the game and, by extension, his brothers' growing obsession with one of the characters. Really, when it was just Leviathan who liked it, that was nothing strange. Even when Asmodeus joined on the wagon, nothing out of the ordinary. He'd easily been taken with characters who served "cunt"

♡ But suddenly, it's all of them? He's a little curious, he must admit. It surely can't hurt just to see what all the fuss is about...

♡ He isn't prepared for how much he grows to enjoy your presence. He finds it's pathetic at first. To be so desperate for a fictional being? He has stooped for too low. He puts the game aside for months, refusing to think about it.

♡ He only picks it back up when his brothers' start discussing the new wedding event, and wedding outfits, and how much they needed them. Mammon even going as far as to request money just to buy the thing.

♡ He refuses. But in the dark corner of his room, he'll pick it back up. He won't even let a living soul discover that he enjoys the game; always pretending he has no clue what anyone is on about when they discuss the game. But he does. Honestly, out of all the brothers he's the one who has most of your stuff unlocked. He has the whole collection.

♡ Not through effort; the game is likely only running on his funds with how much money he sends. He's a very busy demon, and he doesn't have the time to grind the way his brothers do. But he does have the money to out-win them.

♡ You're very well taken care of on his account. He discards all the others completely. Really, you're the only reason he still has that stupid game. He is not shy of spending money, and he has nothing of any other character and everything of you. The only thing he won't buy is live merchandise.

♡ A shame, he thinks. But it's too big a risk to do so, so he's content keeping you all to himself as a little secret.

♡ MAMMON

♡ He's... actually, not one who enjoys otome games much. Correction: He's not much of a gamer at all.

♡ How did he even get involved with this game? Well, no one knows, but one this is for certain: he is involved. Really, he dedicates a lot of time, money, and effort. Really, you're just too cute! How he would love having his very own live human to cozy up with.

♡ He's never disliked humans, but the new game has him growing strangely fond. He thinks that maybe he understands Lilith a little bit better now.

♡ While he's not as much of a dedicated collector as certain other people are; he does have the highest level of intimacy! Even though he's the avatar of greed, he's more greedy for the attention. He spends all his funds on gifts and such, and is the first person who reaches highest level of intimacy. It makes his brothers very jealous.

♡ He's super smug about it, too. He's not afraid to flaunt it. The way your character flushes on screen, the way he's allowed to touch you places the others can't without losing intimacy points? It's to die for! He's all sorts of gooey on the inside just thinking of it.

♡ Of course, when any of his brothers manage to get you up to final intimacy, he's throwing a hissy fit. He'd worked for this, not them! He really wishes you were real, so he could whisk you to his room and never let anyone else ever lay eyes on you.

♡ LEVIATHAN

♡ He thinks that he's the original, the first one to have liked you, and that makes him special. He's wrong, weirdly enough, and well, he doesn't take that kindly when he finds that out.

♡ He's your number one fan! He sings your praises; he has all your merchandise and all your collective items. He even leaves behind his beloved Ruri-chan, that's how much he likes you! Seriously, your face is plastered across his walls and every corner of his room. It's... kind of creepy.

♡ But that's okay! You'll like him anyway, won't you? You even told him so, face all flushed! He's livid when he realizes Mammon, of all people, has higher intimacy than he does and immediately starts grinding.

♡ He's too obsessed with you for his own good. He hates that his brothers like you, too. You're meant to be his! His player two! His companion! He's gotten into physical fights over you with his brothers on several occasions.

♡ It's made him be a bit more closed off. He used to run fan accounts and argue, trying to spread your fame but he doesn't anymore. He wants you for himself. Wants you to be real. Wants to touch you, feel you, do absolutely sinful things to you, but you'd forgive him right?

♡ He can't stand the thought of sharing you. In the quiet of the night, alone in his room, he'll pull up videos that are fake as he strokes his cock; precum pearling from his slit as he whimpers alongside some animated video of you. God, he wants to touch you, taste you, and wants you to be real so bad, the things he could do. The things he would do.

♡ SATAN

♡ He's likely one of the most respectable of your fans.

♡ He likes you, a lot. Has even attempted at finding ways to make you real on various occasions, but has had little success. None of his books have any sort of magic for that. It's upsetting, and yeah, he's had a few outbursts but overall it hasn't been that bad.

♡ He's bought a few of your merchandise, collected all the collectives he's liked or imagined you'd like. He has maxed his intimacy. He's left waiting as patiently as he can for more content. He doesn't give the other characters any attention; all his funds go to giving you gifts.

♡ He imagines all the ways he could treat you if he was just given the chance. He'd be a great lover, he's sure of it. He buys flowers and foods and other things from the game shop to gift you and wishes he could do the same in real life.

♡ He's even taken up drawing; sketches of you littering every page of his school books or sketch books he's recently started buying. He's taken up studying topics you mention fondly on the side. Has started learning to make your favorite food items in the game.

♡ He's convinced that he's the best choice. Convinced that out of all his brothers, he could make you choose him, were you real. Now, he just needs to figure out how to successfully make you real.

♡ ASMODEUS

♡ Asmodeus doesn't care much for the actual game, he just likes you.

♡ He discovers your aesthetic through Leviathan, who has all of your merchandise, and grows fond. He's played a little, but honestly? He'd much rather go out and fuck someone who looks like you than sit over a screen with you.

♡ But don't get him wrong! He's still your fan.

♡ He has boosted not just yours but the game and its company popularity immensely. He's done various themed outfits and events after you, and posts about you on his socials. He's even started fan accounts where he edits you!

♡ He even manages to score the game devs a deal where a whole series of clothes and make-up are inspired. It's been a huge opportunity for them, and Asmodeus is just happy that he has your whole collection for free.

♡ While he doesn't play, he does have all your merchandise, too. He's managed to charm people who have certain limited items. He has it all and a cute little alter where he collects stuff he bets you'll like in his room.

♡ Honestly, he's probably considered as your biggest fan by the majority of the Devildom, even if his brothers would argue about that.

♡ BEELZEBUB

♡ Much like Satan, he's probably one of the most respectable of your fans.

♡ He mostly just starts playing on Belphie's account, where he's helped his twin grind for your things and boost your intimacy points.

♡ He only downloads the game on his own after that. And while he isn't as fanatic as the rest of his brothers, you bet he takes good care of you. He makes sure to feed you every day during the major meals, even though you technically don't need to eat.

♡ He likes imagining that the two of you are eating together. Meals are always way better when he isn't alone.

♡ BELPHEGOR

♡ Strangely enough, he's actually the first one who discovers the game! All locked up on his own in an attic, with no contact at all... Well, it does get pretty lonely. And it's easy to turn to the comfort of imagined people who would certainly treat him better than his brother.

♡ He just... doesn't expect to grow so attached.

♡ Really, he shouldn't like you this much! But... oh, oh, he really does. It's almost addictive. And he doesn't actually have anything else to do with all this free time, so he's capable of grinding a lot. Really, his brothers would be proud over how productive he's being!

♡ Except... When he does get out of the attic, and suddenly he's not the only person who likes you anymore? It's so unfair! He liked you first! The rest of his brothers seem like they're mocking him. He'd only shown Beel!

♡ To say he's angry with his brother's for "stealing" you from him is an understatement. He has —more than once— thrown an absolute fit because he hasn't gotten his way. He treats you better than the rest of them anyway.

♡ You like him more, right? I mean, don't you see how much effort he's putting in for you? Getting all your costumes, endings, and events! All of it! That's a huge achievement coming from the literal embodiment of not putting an effort in.

♡ Well, fine, he can share. He knows how to play nice! Just... don't like them more than you do him, okay? Oh wait...

♡ While he downloaded the game, and you by extension to fight his loneliness he's never felt lonelier than when he has to think about the fact that you don't like him. That you'll never even know he exists.

♡ But it's better than being surrounded by the assholes who refuse to even listen to him.

[winterbiite]

yours

"h-hold on, they'll- fuck- they'll hear!" armin whisper-shouted as you pressed him against the sink of connie's half-bathroom, one hand on his abdomen and the other on the side of his neck, nails subconsciously digging into his skin.

the two of you were at a kickback hosted by connie. there were around twenty-ish other people in attendance, all in the living room and kitchen. there was a separation from the bathroom to the rest of the house, so you knew you'd only be heard if someone was for some reason in that general area.

you and armin escaped into the bathroom after you'd witnessed two separate girls speaking with him, trying to be friendly and cute. it pissed you off, seeing how armin politely smiled and nodded as their hands brushed against his arm, either forgetting he had a girlfriend or just showing no care for it.

your friends would call you jealous and possessive, but you called yourself caring and cautious. armin was yours, so why were these girls even looking in his direction?

you finally broke when the second girl placed her hand on his shoulder, laughing at everything he said and giving him coy eyes. you placed your cup on the table and excused yourself from the conversation you found yourself stuck in with a few other people.

"you just wanna fuck every girl in this house, huh? can't just behave yourself?" your hand on his abdomen lowering to his crotch, palming it as the boy looked down, panic on his face, lips parted. "answer me, 'min."

a shaky breath escaped his mouth. "..no, no, only you.." he snaked a hand to your lower back, pulling you closer. he could sense himself becoming turned on, even though he wasn't fond of the situation and setting they were in.

"if i catch you talking to another girl like that again," your face inched closer to his, the distance closing in. "you won't fucking like it." your hand, which had been at his crotch, now moved up to the other side of his neck.

armin brought his lips to yours, connecting them for a kiss which reminded you that he's yours and only yours. you bite down gently on his bottom lip, tasting a sweetness as well as a bitterness; a mix of soda and alcohol.

you pulled away, hands falling back down to your sides. "you're not getting it just yet. you'll have to wait until we're home." you took a step back from him, escaping his hold on your lower back and waist. armin's eyebrows knit, a disappointed and confused expression growing on his face.

"okay.. okay." he nodded, understanding that it was probably for the better anyway. he'd prefer to fuck in a more private setting, one where there was no risk and was more comfortable for him. but if you wanted to use him, no matter where, he'd let you.

the two of you had left the bathroom a while ago at this point, now armin was having alcohol poured into his mouth by eren, who stood behind him, keeping his head tilted with his bicep, almost head locking the boy in a playful manner. you laughed along with some others, occasionally adding into an ongoing conversation that sasha and reiner were having right next to you.

"y/n, could you get us some beers from the fridge?" eren requested, his and armin's eyes falling onto you.

"yeah, sure!" you nodded and made your way to the kitchen. armin stood up as well, slipping away. he walked close behind you, as soon as you set foot onto the tiled floor of the kitchen, his hand was on your waist.

"armin?" you turned around to face him, and you could smell the lingering alcohol. armin tended to get clingier, touchier, needier, and more romantic after a few drinks, and he'd definitely had 'a few' drinks. atleast more than you.

"missed you so bad." he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, smelling your fading perfume, the one he had bought you. the feeling of him tickled your skin but provided a warm sensation. that and the hand firmly around on waist.

"we can go home in thirty minutes, sound good?" you couldn't suppress the growing smile on your face. you were never big on drunk/tipsy sex, but armin seemed to be.

"i need you right now.. can we go in the bathroom? please." he pulled away, face inches away from yours. his eyes sparkled at you and his cheeks dusted with a pink hue.

"mm mm," you hummed 'no' as you slid your hand along his abs, which you could feel under his black tee. "i already told you earlier, you have to wait."

one of his hands slid down to your hip, then your thigh, giving it a squeeze. "fine." you felt a chill as his he grazed in between your legs, slithering up to run his hand along your chest in circles, getting a feel for both of your breasts. his other hand preoccupied with gripping your waist.

"should i really let you touch this much?" you let out a giggle as he continued to touching, craving the feeling of your body against his, him inside of you.

you and armin finally made it home after being dropped off by an uber at your apartment. his hand rested on your thigh for the entirety of the ride, and you caught him staring at you multiple times with his beady blue eyes.

he pressed you against a wall right after the two of you removed your shoes, lips quickly connecting with yours in a messy and starved kiss. you briefly pulled away to catch a breath before going back, your hand sliding under the hem of his shirt to feel his abdomen. armin rubbed your clothed cunt, losing himself in the warmth of your mouth.

finding your way to your bedroom, you quickly shoved armin onto his back, climbing on top of him. you ground down on his already hard cock as you removed his shirt. you slid off yours, revealing a tanktop underneath, which you kept on. his hands on your waist pushed you down harder onto his erection as he looked up at you, bliss already in his eyes.

"you're so hot, oh my.." he muttered as you slid down his pants and boxers, following with your pants and panties. you were in a hurry to feel him inside of you, he could tell, and he felt the same way, hands unable to leave your body.

"what do good boys say?" you teased as your pussy grazed his aching cock.

"please! please put it in, please!" he wasn't above begging for you, especially not in his alcohol-ridden state.

you slid yourself down onto armin's length, throwing your head back as he let out a groan. once your core fully engulfed him, you began lifting yourself up to crash back down, armin's breath hitching every time.

"ah!- oh god, i love you- oh god" the blond whispered as you rode him, hips bucking up into you, hands roaming your body and squeezing your thighs.

armin's bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, lips parted with shallow breaths, whines, and groans filling the room. he stared up at you like you were a goddess, as if you were sent to make him feel existential bliss and to show him love he'd never felt before. in moments like these, he couldn't help but feel utterly devoted to you. you, on the other hand, felt incredibly powerful. this was just another reminder that he was yours and you had him locked.

"keep going, please, keep going" you could tell he was close to releasing by the way he gripped your thigh harder with one of his warm hands. after this, you were so gonna make him eat you out. if he's good then he might even get a round two.

you sped up the pace, watching the boy's face and every change of expression and twitch of the muscle. his hands went to your waist and brought you down hard onto his cock, a sudden warmth filling you up.

"ohhhh, fuuckkk!" you cried out, hands coming down beside his head to hold yourself up. as he came inside you, you lightly bounced up and down on it, milking him dry.

"i love you so much.. i'm yours, okay?" armin whispered as he finished, slipping his cock out. you fell onto him, his arms wrapping tightly around you as the two of you panted, catching your breaths. you could feel his cum spill out of you.

"let me taste you, please." it's like he read your mind.

oh my god i need him so bad :(( now i get the blond guy hype theyre so cuteeughhhh. anyways my next fic will probably be 2hollis it depends tee bee h. rambling in the authors note is actually so fun guyzz waddup

[knnichs]

RISK

He never believed in Christmas miracles. But if at this moment right now was his only chance–then he will desperately cling onto it as if it was the only thing that mattered in his life.

c. kinich x gn!reader

t. childhood friends to lovers, mild violence (abyss attack, but very short,) no use of y/n, cliche tropes YES i know is it really a knnichs work if theres no cliche stuff, wc: 3.4k

merry christmas, @papiliotao !! i was your secret santa 🧑‍🎄 this is a bit lengthy but i do hope you like it 🧡

Kinich certainly isn’t the type to befriend others.

Not unless it was something formed out of a transaction–or a commission. In this case, his friendship with Mualani was only formed because she was looking for a battle advisor to train Kachina against the wilderness, she said. In the end, he had grown rather fond of them, and gained two new acquaintances that day.

Outside of that, Kinich doesn’t exactly recall when he befriended other people. Sometimes a few people would pass by him while he walked around the tribe and greet him, it is quite embarrassing to say that he doesn’t remember half of their names, if they had never become one of his clients.

You, on the other hand, haven't disappeared from his mind a single day ever since middle school.

BEFORE THE NIGHT FALLS

He remembered the exact moment he got to know you. When his parents had left him as a kid, Kinich went to find a place to live and settle down as he did his work. He had just found shelter in the Scions of the Canopy, and under Elder Liek’s guidance, he was to go to school. Even if he hesitated, he was eventually forced to, the Elder wouldn’t let him help out around the tribe without it. There, he learnt about heroes and their morals–I mean, he questioned it: why would they do something when they wouldn’t profit from it?

In those classes, the other kids would make fun of him. Point at his ragged clothing made out of animal-skin, comment on his dirty feet, since he was always barefoot. You, always his knight in shining armor, called out their behavior and told them that they weren’t being nice. 

Truly a reason of all time, he thinks. Those kids would surely quit their teasing simply because they weren’t being nice.

But he appreciated the gesture. You stood in front of him–arms on your hips, you were determined to drive them away so they could stop picking on people smaller than them. He just looked up at you, (with what he hoped it wasn't a blank expression) curious why you decided to defend someone like him. He had nothing to offer you–he had no mora, no luxurious items. So, why? 

He wanted to ask you before the day ended. Following your footsteps until you were in the middle of the bridge. From there, you would learn his name was Kinich, and he would know what yours was (along with the reason why you decided to ‘protect’ him from that group of kids.) From there, you two would grow quite fond of each other over the years.

He knew he had always adored your kindness, even if it was towards people you barely knew–you somehow always managed to bring a smile to their face and a full heart to come home with. Once, he saw you help a crying child find their play sword–you knew nothing of her, aside from her name, of course.  You found that their sword was thrown all the way down to the river below, it was far from saving–the wood was scratched and torn into halves. So, ‘as any normal human being would do’ (in your words,) you spent the next few hours creating a makeshift sword for them, one that had star stickers and a ribbon wrapped around its handle. 

The kid came home happy to their parents, of course. Boasting about how wonderfully made their new wooden sword was and how this was the first step for them to join the pilgrimage. Her parents only shared a look that was saying ‘thank you.’ You simply smiled and waved, leaving them to enter their home as the kid rushed inside. 

That was all you got, simple two words anyone can utter, and you were happy. You didn’t get mora, you didn’t get any sweets, nor did you get any special treatment. Thank you, it was all you’re going to get for something you spent hours on.

It would be a lie not to say Kinich wasn’t puzzled by your behavior. Somehow, even after he had long graduated from Elder Liek’s class he doesn’t understand. Why do you do these things for free? If that were him, he would have charged them an enough amount of mora just because the work took hours already.

Later on, he would realize you did this simply because you think some things in this world are worth doing–no matter how much it would cost you. And a few years after, just before the next pilgrimage, there was an abyss ambush that almost ended with you hurt.

The sky was dark with a purple fog sabotaging your vision. The smell of smoke from a fire slowly starting to grow, its ashes filled your lungs and burned your eyes. You take another shirt and ran—ran from your home, and the tribe. 

Kinich was away at the time, blissfully unaware of the attack until it was already resolved. He doesn’t quite recall what he was doing before it. All he remembers is the feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach as he heard the fellow tribespeople say you were missing. Had a rifthound laid its claws on you? Where were you?

He would grapple across the forest, letting the branches scratch his skin as he travels, his heart rate increasing at the thought of you getting trapped, wounded—or dead, even. He can’t let that happen, not when he hasn’t told you everything.

Thankfully, he found you seeking refuge in a cave nearby. A few saurians found their way in your arms, a baby yumkasaur fast asleep on your lap.

“Are you hurt?” Kinich steps towards you, observing you quite intently for any injuries you may have gotten. You shake your head, petting the yumkasaur on its head. 

He finds a spot beside you, slouching as he can finally relax, at least a little. He still has to help out later with the damages. Fix a few tents that were broken, check up on the other tribespeople—but you were his top priority.

“I’m fine. Are you seeing this little guy? So. Cute.” You say, only sparing him a glance in his direction before focusing on that yumkasaur once again.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Cute.” 

FEAR

His friend group which consisted of only two people (excluding the dragon he carries around,) were only Mualani and Kachina. Those two were the only ones who truly understood Kinich’s method of maneuvering around the battlefield, pricing commissions, haggling–really, a few tricks in the book he has, they know about it. You’re no fighter, nor are you an errand person, you don’t know how to do any of these, so seeing Kinich do it himself may be surprising enough for you–but it’s really something he does normally.

You do know how Kinich thinks. How the little gears in his brain move, the quick shift in expression before it turns back to his resting face, how he truly feels in each situation–you’ve learnt how to read him. It may just be because you have good observational skills (which he dreads, for multiple reasons) or the two of you have spent enough time with each other to know what the other is feeling with a single glance, either way, Kinich isn’t as comfortable with it.

You can read how he felt, and he’s never felt that vulnerable in his entire life. He felt like no matter how much he tried to run from you, somehow–there's always a somehow with you–he still can’t hide anything from your ‘prying’ gaze. You know what makes him tick, what makes him smile, to the point that he wonders if you know how he truly felt about you. 

If you can read minds (and gods, Kinich hopes you can’t,) he wonders if you’ve already heard of the things he mutters to the moon at night, and the sun at day. Have you heard of the sacred promises he keeps close to his heart? That he would guard you until his dying breath? That under the moonlight, there was nothing he would wish for more than your presence beside him. Grounding the poor boy's heart in the moment only you two share. 

If you somehow have the power to look at someone's past memories, would you see the times he would pick up the guitar collecting dust in the corner of his room, play a cheesy love song from years ago and hum along to the tune thinking of you? There are far too many times he somehow finds a way to make a situation about you. It could be when he’s about to bungee jump, he finds himself tightening the harness a little more because he knows you wouldn’t want to live in a world without him. A few times when he’d go on commissions and look at the flowers, sit on the top of the cliff and watch as the sun set thinking how much more magical the moment would be if you saw this with him. Would you think it was pretty? How would the sun’s rays reflect on your eyes? Will it glow the same bright color that you bring to his monochrome world?

Sa isang munting harana, para sa’yo.

This meager serenade, just for you.

He can’t offer you anything. Nothing but his entire soul—his vow, to protect you, no matter the cost. Even as he bears the name Malipo, just a smile coming from you would already be more than enough for him.

And maybe someday, one day, he would have the courage to tell you the truth he’d been hiding all these years.

‘PRESENT’ TIME

“Kachina, there’s a few stockings on that table over there. Could you get it for me?” Mualani sat atop a chair, trying to hang decorations for your group’s Christmas party. It's not anything big, it wasn't meant to be that extravagant. All of you would just celebrate the holiday as it was, like what you did every year. 

The fireplace burned through the night, its flames becoming the main lighting of the room. It was bright enough for Mualani to see what she was doing exactly, and warm enough that it felt like a normal sunny day in Natlan. It was often cold during the winter, and although it doesn’t snow, the temperature does drop a little colder than usual.

“Here you go!” The girl handed four stockings–all personalized with your names embroidered on them. In green was Kinich’s name, yellow for Kachina, blue for Mualani’s, and yours in purple. With that in mind, you noticed a light green line of thread that resembled half a shape–curved at the top, and straight at the bottom. Kachina had a few sparkles on hers, and Mualani had the shape of a shark. You shake off the detail, deeming it unnecessary anyway.

Mualani gave her thanks and hung up the stockings all in order–her’s, Kachina’s, Kinich’s, and yours.

“This place is definitely starting to look lively. How much time do we have left until midnight?” You asked, sitting down on the world’s comfiest couch. 

“About an hour, we still have time to set up the bonfire outside too.” Kinich looked at the clock–it's frames decorated with reindeer antlers and a small yellow bell. You smiled at him, whispering a small thank you, and looking back at Mualani (who you were quite worried about, since you’re sure she might fall over the chair at any point.) Kachina was also quite occupied, scouring the place to find… something. 

After a bit more adjusting–the stockings were set up, the cookies are almost done, a few dishes have been spread out on the table already, and the marshmallows are just on the table. Perfect, there was just one more thing left.

“Shoot. Hey, uh, can you and Kinich go get the fairy lights? It’s by Altahua’s net.” She climbed down from the chair and faced you, “You know her, right? Yelafath?” 

“Sure do, I’ll just leave my bag here–watch over my stuff!” You say, placing your belongings by the place you sat on the couch. “Kinich, let's go?”

Outside, it was much, much colder than usual. The wind blowing accompanied by the amount of water that was near the tribe was enough to make you shiver. You and the boy made your way to the shop, you’ve only conversed with Yelafath maybe two or three times? But so long as you mention Mualani’s name, you’re sure that it’ll go okay. You rubbed your hands together and brought them to your mouth, huffing it in hopes that it'll magically turn warm. Hearing the sounds of clothes shuffling, you turn to your side and see Kinich already handing his jacket to you. 

“Quick, before Ajaw gets sick of being locked up,” He muttered. 

“Afraid he’ll tease you? Oh, what a softie you’ve become!” 

“Just take it.” He stands behind you, stretching out the fabric to make it easier for you to slip right in. You were getting warm because of the jacket, it definitely wasn’t because of him.

And it all falls back to silence once again. Save for the sounds of waves crashing and the occasional gust of wind. You don’t mind the quiet, actually, and Kinich wasn’t the type to keep on talking all the time either–preferring to be blunt and straightforward. But this is different, it wasn’t because he had ended a conversation too early that you don’t know what to say so it would continue, because you loved hearing his voice, you loved hearing him talk whatever was on his mind. His attitude towards it sometimes made you upset, feeling a little distant with him every time it happened, but you do know it was just the way he does things. The quiet that falls upon the two of you is comfortable.

All of it has to come to an end, eventually finding the shop. You hopped to the counter, calling for the girl who was arranging things in the crates.

“Evening, Yelafath! Mualani mentioned that she had fairy lights with you?” 

“Fairy lights? Oh, I don’t think she gave me any, sorry.” She looks around the shop, looking for something to give you, but shrugs instead. “I wish I could give you something similar, but we have nothing, we’re also closing for the day.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay. Thank you, and merry christmas! I’ll just tell her.” You smiled, giving her a wave. Kinich simply nodded, crossing his arms and following you behind. She greeted you back, and you faced the house once more, the lights of the shop behind you dimming before turning off–leaving you and Kinich in the complete darkness of the night. Some stalls were still open, the only few things really illuminating your way were the lamp posts and lanterns scattered across the platforms. 

“Where will we celebrate the next Christmas?” You shuffle with the jacket again, raising the sleeves upwards to bring your hand out. The stars were so bright with the mix of blue and purple from the galaxies above, 

“It’s our turn next year, we’ll be the ones hosting it. I hope you’re not sick of me yet,” He chuckles–albeit quite softly. It’s rare to hear him laugh let alone smile with or to other people. But with you, oh, everything is just so easy with you. He can always let his guard down without any fear of you trying to make fun of him. Even on days when he comes to you battered and bruised from a particularly rough commission, you take the time out of your day to care for him. To treat his wounds, focusing your attention on him that he shies away from your touch, insisting that you were doing too much and it could heal on its own. 

One step after the other, letting the salt air brush against you. 

And it once again, falls into silence. 

Ajaw does come into the picture once more after his 15 minute jail time was lifted, and thankfully fills the air with random and the most unnecessary comments.

You ring the doorbell to the house, tapping your feet impatiently in a not-so-coordinated rhythm while waiting for anyone to answer the door. 

“Mualani, Kachina–” you shout, “HELLO? The lights are on, I know you guys are in there!”  

“Seems like your so-called friends abandoned you two. How long until something goes wrong? Oh, I can already smell it! I, K’uhul Ajaw, will ensure that this world will know exactly what loneliness feels like, starting with you two!”

Your arms lay slack on your sides, breathing a heavy sigh. You knock again, one more, twice–until you just start slamming your fist on the door calling them repeatedly. You shiver from the cold wind and eventually give up. Backing away to face your friend, who was unusually, still quiet. 

“Kinich?” You say his name, ever so soft. His eyes dared not to look at you, in fear of showing exactly what he shoved deep down in his chest for the past few years you two knew each other.

“Ew, that’s gross! Don’t give him those lovey-dovey eyes! You’ll give him ideas, you hear me?! Quit that, you’re both so annoying!” Ajaw says, all while retching, “You know what? You’re both insufferable. I’m leaving!”

Some part of Kinich does wonder what exactly needed to happen for you to fall with him. He deemed it unlikely for three years now, saying that you couldn’t possibly. Not with someone like him–blood stained on his hands for his entire life, not for someone with rough, calloused hands that can expertly wield a claymore. Kinich has never felt something as delicate and gentle as you. The moment you tried to defend him from those immature kids–he knew. You would never hurt him, not once in a million lifetimes. With your gentle soul? You were filled with nothing but kindness and innocent hope. You were that glimmer of light he needed in his darkest time, the feeling he needed in his chest to keep going forward–to keep fighting, all for your smile.

Your eyes dart to where he was looking at, curious enough to ask yourself what exactly has him so speechless at the moment.

Oh.

Oh.

A cheap wreath with that familiar red bow, and the two of you just happen to be standing just right under it.

He never believed in Christmas miracles. But if at this moment right now was his only chance–then he will take it. He will desperately cling onto it as if it was the only thing that mattered in his life, and hold it tightly, sure not to let it go.

Being in his arms was nothing new, he’s done this several times as a way to comfort you when you were down, or vice versa. This, however, is different. As if an orchestra directed a symphony of a familiar and comforting tune–one that he used to hum you to sleep during those restless nights. As if you were brought back to the times you sat with him under the starry sky, pointing at bright white dots. The universe is vast and magical, and somehow, somehow, it gave him you. The only sun he ever needed in his bleary sky, the only drops of rain he needed on a hot day, the gust of wind during humid afternoons, the flower that bloomed through the cracks of the concrete. 

He pulls away. Gently, he repeats in his mind, this was a high-risk situation. 

But for you, he would gladly take it.

Kinich looks at you, worry filling his heart–is this the right choice? Even with this amount of hesitation, he pushes through. No matter the outcome, he will live knowing he had you at least once in his life. Gods, you looked angelic. The lampost from the porch illuminates you in a warm orange–exactly the color you had filled his monochrome world with. He brings a hand to your chin, tilting it upwards, muttering only two simple words.

“Can I?” 

“I told ya it’d work,” Mualani said, proudly huffing as Kachina hides in the corner of the room in embarrassment. “Now, I’ll be taking my mora from the traveller right after this. Not a word, Kachina, got it?”

She only nods in agreement.

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

HI REI! merry merry MERRY christmas <3 i had so much fun writing this & i hope that u liked it as much as i did ! :D you’re such a kind n awesome person i hope i managed to incorporate some similarities between u and the “y/n” of the fic cause i wanted to make it as self indulgent for u as possible BWAHDHAJHA IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE!! im glad i got to be close w u these past few month(s) & i hope we continue to get closer!!

[animatorweirdo]

Soundless

Your father discouraged you from seeking the elf, but since you were desperate to have your locket fixed -- you decided to let his words go soundless in your ears. Turns out, the ill-famed Feanor wasn't so bad after all.

[] = Sign language

Warnings: mentions of a dead mother, hearing loss, rumors, Feanor's reputation, softness, and Feanor not being bad after all.

(Note: I decided to take a softer turn for this guy,)

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

Your life has not been an easy one. Despite being born into nobility as the child of a Telerin lord, you faced your share of hardships from a young age. Your mother passed away shortly after your birth, and then you lost your hearing to a strange illness.

Growing up without the ability to hear the sounds of nature or music was incredibly challenging. Many people looked at you with pity, and some even speculated that you were cursed, given the unfortunate circumstances surrounding both your mother's death and your hearing loss. This placed a heavy burden on your father, who was left to care for you alone.

You two shared a great bond, and he had been genuinely a good father to you, helping you adapt to your disability and trying to make sure you were happy. However, you knew how tired he was and how he held a look of longing in his eyes. He was most likely still waiting for your mother to return from the halls of Mandos. 

Your mother had been born with a weak body thus the childbirth took a severe toll on her and her spirit. The Valar and the Maiar assured that she would heal over time, but it would take a long time. There was a high chance she would return when you had already grown into your teens. 

Your father was deeply saddened by the news and carried a heavy burden of guilt, believing that he was responsible for your mother being stuck in a state of recovery. Despite any rumors or beliefs held by others, he never allowed you to bear the blame. Instead, he shielded you from such notions, ensuring that you understood it was not your fault and that you were not to blame for your mother's passing.

You didn't want your father to blame himself, so you always strived to be on your best behavior and do things that would make him happy. You also wanted to prove to him that he didn’t always need to worry about you and that you could handle yourself, even if you were deaf. That was one of the reasons why you were determined to learn how to read people’s lips and make communication easier for yourself.

One of the only things you had from your mother was a silver locket.

Your father allowed you to keep it, and you held on to it ever since. Unfortunately, the lock had gotten stuck, thus making you unable to open it. 

Your father didn’t know what the locket held inside, so you pleaded with him to have someone fix it. However, since the locket was an older design from the First Age, none of the craftsmen knew how to repair it. They all advised you to dismantle the locket and salvage whatever was inside, but you were unwilling to do so. You were fond of the locket itself and didn't want to risk damaging whatever precious contents it held.

You began to lose hope when there were no more craftsmen to turn to, and even your father seemed less eager to save the locket. He eventually told you to simply keep the locket as a memory, assuring you that knowing what was inside was not important.

You valued your father's advice, but you also couldn't shake the desire to know what was inside the locket. Perhaps it contained a picture of your mother, since you had so few of them in the house, or maybe it held a cherished item she kept as a memory.

You then heard about an elf who was rumored to be one of the best craftsmen known in history: Feanor, King Finarfin’s older brother and the eldest of Finwe’s children. You heard that he had done troubling things in the past and nowadays lived in seclusion with his sons, rarely attending social events. Despite his reclusive nature, his reputation as a skilled craftsman persisted.

You felt hope for your mother’s locket, but when you asked your father if you two could meet him, he suddenly became angry and refused. You were startled as you had never seen him so angry before. 

Your father apologized for snapping at you and then explained that Feanor was not someone who should even be spoken about. Despite the passing of many years, the wounds he had inflicted were still fresh in the hearts of many. He was not to be trusted, so it's only for the best that you forget the whole thing.

Normally, you would have listened to your father, but your stubbornness to have your locket fixed strived you forward. 

During a celebration event with most noble houses and the city attending, you sneaked away from your father’s side and made your way to the workshop where you heard Feanor usually occupied alone with his gadgets. 

You had visited many workshops while trying to get your locket fixed, so you had a good idea of what to look for. It didn’t take long for you to find the place and walk inside. The workshop was empty, as most of the people were attending the celebration. Although it was a bit eerie to be alone, you pressed on until you found a door with light emanating from the room beyond.

You quietly peered inside and observed a dark-haired elf seated beside a table, engrossed in some task beneath the flickering candlelight. For a moment, you were awestruck, realizing that this was the famed Feanor, the elf who had allegedly committed terrible deeds.

With cautious steps, you entered the room, mindful not to startle the elf, and pondered how to approach him without alarming him. Unbeknownst to you, the door behind you closed shut, causing the elf to startle and snap his head towards you.

You were frozen in your place when you locked your eyes with Feanor. His features were sharp and he frowned when he saw you. For a moment, he looked a bit terrifying. 

“Child? What are you doing here alone? Where are your parents?” Feanor questioned, but you awkwardly remained quiet as you only managed to catch ‘here’ and ‘parents’ from his lips. Your lip reading skills weren’t the sharpest despite you having been trying to improve them. 

You took a deep breath and then tried to explain in sign language why you were there and that you had hoped he could take a look at your locket and perhaps know how to fix it since no one else knew how to. 

Feanor gazed intently at you as you signed, and then there was an awkward pause. You weren't sure if he understood sign language, and you mildly regretted not bringing a piece of paper and a pencil, which would have made explaining much easier.

Feanor’s eyes then softened, and to your surprise, he motioned his hand in sign language. 

“[Come here…]” he said. 

You then walked up to him and handed him your locket. 

He inspected it carefully, taking in the design and the lock. After he tested it and tried to open it, he then laid it down on the table. He grabbed one of the vials and what seemed to be a small tool. You looked at him curiously as he started doing something. 

He then glanced at you. 

“[Take a seat. This might take a while…]” He signed. 

You nodded and quietly sat on the opposite side of the table, watching as he gently poured drops on the lock. 

“[What is that?] you curiously asked. 

“[A type of acid. It can remove the rust that had locked the locket from the inside,]” he explained. 

“[Wait! So you can really fix it without having to break it?!]” you asked excitedly.

“[Of course I can. I do need to take the lock apart to clean the excess rust from the inside,]” Feanor explained while dropping drops on the locket. 

“[How do you know sign language?]” you asked. 

“[I was the one who first developed it,]” he answered, making your eyes widen. 

“[Did you or anyone in your family have hearing problems too? ]” you asked. 

“[No. I just wanted a way to bad mouth my half-brother without him understanding anything. I was a bit of a drama seeker,]” he explained, making you giggle. 

“[Then it was adopted by those who were unable to speak or hear words,]” he added.

“[How long have you been unable to hear words or sounds?]” he asked while cleaning your locket’s lock. 

“[My whole life. I lost my hearing somewhere in my birth,]” you answered.

“[Do you want to talk about it?]” Feanor asked, and you became excited. No one else besides your father has spoken to you in sign language this long. 

You then talked about your life. How your mother died during your birth, and how your father had taken care of you your whole life. You also talked about how your father seems to be blaming himself for your mother’s death and how you hated when others would look at you with pity and think you had been cursed. 

Feanor listened attentively while fixing your locket. 

After half an hour of talking and watching him work, you took a break, but then you saw how the elf in front of you placed all the parts back in the locket and opened it. 

You looked at him eagerly as he closed it and then opened it, making sure the lock worked properly before handing the locket back to you.

You grabbed the locket and took a look at what was inside. It was a small picture of your mother and father. They looked happy together, and there was also a small gem inside. It was most likely the gem your father gave your mother as a gift, and she had kept it inside the locket for safekeeping and carried it with her. You felt immeasurable joy looking at the picture and holding the gem. 

Your father would be so happy when you showed these to him. 

Feanor then caught your attention by tapping the table in front of you. 

“[The locket should work fine for now, but make sure to take care of it and not leave it somewhere where it could rust again, ]�� Feanor explained. 

“[I will. Thank you,]” you signed. 

“[Now come on. I take you back to the entrance. You shouldn’t be here,]” he said, then stood up. 

You followed the elf out of the workshop, and you two then stood on the empty street while the celebration was still going in the distance. 

“[Do you need me to escort you back there?]” Feanor asked. 

“[No. My father is pretty easy to find, and I don’t think he even noticed that I’m gone. I’m pretty quiet after all, ]” you answered. 

“[Very well, and by the way,]” he said, making you look at him curiously. 

“[Your mother’s passing was not your fault. No matter how tragic it was, you are not at fault,]” he explained. 

You looked down for a moment. 

“[But others think differently,]” you said. 

“[There will always be people who will judge you for what you don’t have. Don’t let their words get to you. Otherwise, your life will become difficult and harder to enjoy,]” he signed.

 “[And remember, hearless or not, your mother would have loved you]” he added. 

The thought made you smile. Your mother had a weak body, but it didn’t mean she did not want you. Your father and the rest of the relatives always explained how she was excited to have you. 

She might be in Mandos, but she was going to return one day. 

“[I won’t. Thank you, Mr. Feanor,]” you said, and he softly smiled. 

“[Now get along now. Your father will notice your disappearance soon enough,]” he said. 

You then suddenly hugged his legs, making him look at you surprised. He then patted your head as you freed him and began making your way back to the party. You waved at him, and he waved in return till he saw you disappear into the crowds. 

Feanor returned to his workshop, feeling pleasant over the encounter. 

[neve-rook-datv]

The Trouble Within - Neve Gallus’ Personal Notes - Part 3

The Lighthouse has become our sanctuary, a place where we regroup, share stories, and patch up wounds—both physical and unseen. Its walls seem to shift and breathe, adapting to the lives and emotions we bring to it, and at the center of it all, there’s Rook.

Here, within these ever-changing walls, I witness Rook’s patience in subtle ways that others might glimpse, though maybe not in the same way I do. She has a way of listening that makes each of us feel seen, as though she’s anchored in every word, no matter how tense or chaotic the room might be. When someone voices a frustration, she doesn’t push back; she responds with a calm steadiness, sometimes even with a quiet joke or a mischievous smile that has a way of breaking through the tension. Her humor, subtle and warm, draws people to her. And she leads us, not by pushing or pulling, but by embodying a quiet confidence that feels both fragile and unbreakable.

Yet beneath that easy-going surface lies a core of steel—a resolve that drives her forward, even when the path is uncertain. She makes choices with a clarity I find both reassuring and disconcerting. She’ll take risks others wouldn’t dream of, yet somehow, her decisions feel like the only logical path, as though she sees a future we don’t. I’ve seen her face down choices that would make others falter, and each time, she makes us trust her judgment, makes us believe that whatever she decides is the only way forward.

And then there’s Assan, Darvin’s griffon, who seems to have developed a fondness for her. Assan isn’t hers to claim, and yet Rook treats him with a gentle care that still catches me off guard. She slips away when she can, spending quiet moments by his side, scratching behind his ears, whispering to him in that low voice that’s soft enough to make even the griffon still. I see a different side of her in those moments, something raw and unguarded, and it’s almost too intimate to watch. And somehow, it only deepens this image I have of her—a leader with a heart she guards fiercely, yet can’t help but reveal in these stolen moments.

Watching her, I feel a weight settle within me, something I can no longer ignore, no matter how much I wish I could. Every time we leave this place, we face threats that could tear any of us from this fragile unity we’ve built. I tell myself it’s safer to keep my distance, to guard my heart from the possibility of loss. But then I see her, standing at the center of us all, carrying burdens that aren’t hers to bear, giving everything she has, even when no one asks her to.

It scares me, this pull I feel toward her, this desire to step closer when every part of me knows how easily it could all be shattered. She’s Trouble, I remind myself, but the word feels hollow now—a flimsy defense against something deeper. The Trouble is what she awakens in me—the hope, the vulnerability, the longing for something I know I can’t guarantee.

And there’s a gnawing fear beneath it all. I find myself caught in this quiet struggle, wanting to reach for her, to let myself fall into this connection that grows stronger with each passing day. But every time I feel that pull, that instinct to move closer, a darker thought settles within me—a reminder that we live on borrowed time, that every mission we embark on could be our last, and that, one day, I might lose her. It’s an ache that refuses to fade, and it only grows stronger the more I let myself believe there could be something beyond these walls.

I’m afraid of what it means to want this, to want her, knowing full well the risks we face. And yet… I see it in her eyes too, that same pull neither of us can seem to resist.

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Izutsumi! and Elves

Chilchuck my love, you so fucking asked for that one.

.

You woke him from his nap!!

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Asfslkfjsk was the fact that Senshi accidentally made this guy in the show? I don't remember it.

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I love how this fight showcases how fast Izutsumi is. Girl's got a Dex of like 22.

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Fuckin' tragic that this is just a chapter cover and they never actually, so far as I'm aware, dress in sheepskins the way they dressed in frogskins.

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Not to be Edgy(TM) but I'm pretty sure that by this definition, humans, especially magic-users, are also "monsters."

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The green-growing, snow-free cavern with the barometz suddenly appearing is I'm pretty sure the most blatant the dungeon has been so far about giving people what they want - except possibly for this usually hot & humid floor being freezing in the first place, just because Laios said he didn't like the heat.

I hope it keeps doing this sort of thing after he becomes king. I know that's not how this works but god I love a sentient land, especially one that tries to accommodate its people. Alas that this one's all a honey trap for flies.

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It's very clear to me that, while Izutsumi may genuinely prefer to avoid strenuous effort, either physical or emotional, most of her argument with Marcille in this chapter is about her testing the boundaries of the group's tolerance for her. Where she was before, they'd tell her, "You'd think you could be a little more grateful to us for taking you in." And this is a philosophy that Tade, Izutsumi's closest friend and the one other subordinate-due-to-species person among them, bought into:

Izutsumi was skeptical...but that's still what she lived with. Until now, with this new group, where she's getting mixed messages - or, what feels like mixed messages, between what the group does and says and what she thinks they're saying based on her past experience.

Chilchuck calls her a beast, then basically has her act as distracting bait for a dangerous period of time while the rest of the party (is busy being injured or tending to the injured) does nothing to help, and all Chilchuck does to help Izutsumi kill the ice golem is mark its weak point for her. But then he compliments her skills, apologizes for being rude, and gives her her own pack and bedroll, truly welcoming her to the group. And when she remarks sarcastically that nobody cares about a beast being naked, Marcille only redoubles her efforts to help her keep her modesty, while the others bind Laios's eyes because he's the one who's going to Make It Weird - not Izursumi. Laios stays blindfolded throughout the steam bath scene because the party respects Izutsumi as a person.

So then she starts that fight over food, partly because she genuinely doesn't want to eat gross things - and more importantly, doesn't want to risk becoming even more a monster than most people already view her. But also because she wants, perhaps subconsciously, to see what happens when she's "supposed" to be a "team member" now but she disobeys the more senior members of the group.

This chapter threads two needles, builds two distinctions: between "earning your place" and "pulling your fair weight", and between "doing things you don't like for others (on their orders/for their goals)" and "doing things you don't like for you (for your own goals)." I think it...could do better at it? Like, Tade is kinda failing at step 1, because it's not clear to me that she realizes needing to "be useful" in order to stay is inherently fucked up. But she DOES think of that as her personal goal, even if it's actually externally imposed, and she's okay with putting in hard, sometimes unpleasant work in order to achieve it.

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Kabru internally, triumphantly: CAHOOOOOOOOTS!

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{fond sigh} the Elves from the West on their white ships with avian figureheads... They may be dicks, but we do love a Tolkien reference.

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CANARIES IN THE COAL MINE. I have NO idea if that translation is intended but my god I love it. If it's deliberate, is it a subversion of that concept or is it an indication of what the Elvish government thinks of their crack team of dungeon-delvers?

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BIGGEST, BLUEST EYES OF PERFECT* HONESTY*...followed by the visible pupils of honest evasion. Man, I'm really enjoying the Shuro-Kabru dynamic here, too? Shuro like, "Don't bullshit me. I'm a prince. I'm willing to help, but I know a politician when I see one." They vibe, your honor. They bonded over one of the weirdest and most traumatic meals of both their lives.

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LMAOOOO. This was NOT in the show!

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I love how Namari greets him excitedly and immediately asks for news of Falin, and Shuro says nothing but, really, everything; and Namari changes the subject to something lighter that's still gossip about their friends. I don't really expect it to happen but I'd LOVE to see the whole old Touden party reunite in battle or just around a campfire again, because it's clear they were a very good party of dungeon-competent people who worked and got along well together.

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Srsly though the opening view of this scene is such eloquent dynamic-establishing, vis a vis the elves relationship with the Island Lord and, well, everyone else here. We heard people muttering nervously in the streets, we heard Kabru's brief but heartfelt story of Utaya... And now we get this:

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The words of a man who would definitely for sure not have a single problem, not a one!

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Wait, what shady side business did Shuro have?! I love that Chilchuck is objectively the most reputable person in the party... Except really he fits in with the others: I bet a lot of parties don't want to hire That Bitchy Pushy Halffoot, any more than they want to hire an Easterner with weird vibes or the daughter of an infamous thief. (Or a mysterious elvish mage who won't explain her real reasons for wanting to explore dungeons, but Marcille would've joined the Touden party anyway, for Falin.)

It shows how Laios's trust of others pays off just as often as it doesn't.

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THIS IS IT, THIS SORT OF IMAGINE SPOT IS WHY I LOVE KABRU VERY MUCH.

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THE WORDS OF A MAN WHO WILL DEFINITELY FOR SURE NOT HAVE A SINGLE PROBLEM, NOT A ONE!

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...hot.

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kitty cat

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I like how this sort of comment is obviously genuinely hurting Laios, and Chilchuck does kinda genuinely mean it, but also he's saying it more reflexively than anything. Laios says or does something Particularly Fucking Weird; Chilchuck comments and keeps going along with him. I do look forward to Chilchuck growing accepting of Laios's weirdness rather than just resigned, but it's a good character beat all around.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Birds Of A Feather

The Owl House » Huntlow

Title: Birds Of A Feather

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: In which Darius settles into his new role as a parent and Hunter makes a garishly floral Grom suit.

The following Saturday night, Hunter comes waltzing into the living room dressed in a hand-stitched '80's era shoulder pad bedecked orange and yellow floral patterned suit jacket, complete with a comically large bright yellow bowtie, and Darius nearly spits tea all over his gratuitously overpriced purple silk pajamas. "So…what do you think?" Hunter asks, spinning on the heel of his matching red sneakers to give Darius the full effect. Of course, Darius's first instinct (after cringing hard enough to risk permanent injury to his face muscles) is to offer to take Hunter on an emergency shopping trip…but the look on Hunter's face, so excited for his first-ever Grom, so proud of this thing he made with his own two hands, eyes sparkling with anticipation as he eagerly awaits Darius's approval, makes him bite his tongue. Darius relaxes his features, lips curving into a fond smile as he replies, "You look very handsome, Little Prince," and Hunter beams back at him with one of those gap-toothed grins that's been growing less and less rare by the day.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

Ever since the little plant witch asked him to Grom, Hunter has done nothing but talk about the subject for weeks. Not that Darius minds. It's nice seeing the little prince so happy (especially after what Camila told him happened at the graveyard when he pulled her aside and asked her about Hunter's new scars — oh how he would have relished getting in that final stomp on the tyrannical old bastard) and Darius, newly minted parental figure, wants to do everything he can to be supportive.

Even after months of apologies and I should've known betters, long after Hunter forgave him and the others for not paying closer attention to the way Belos was treating him, for assuming he was safe and well cared for, even pampered, protected under the guise of being the Emperor's nephew, there's still a part of him that feels guilty, that feels like he needs to make up for it.

Eager to participate, Darius offers to take Hunter out shopping for his big date, pulling up a link to his favorite boutique on his scroll, and swiping through a selection of photos featuring a model similar to Hunter's stature, decked out in an expensive sleek black and gray suit with a golden belt buckle and a little red pocket square.

Hunter's eyes widen in shock at the price.

"Oh wow," he says, still getting used to the idea of people (especially Darius of all people, snarky sarcastic asshole that he is) going out of their way to be so kind to him. He's only just started getting used to calling Darius's place his place. "That's really cool of you, Darius. Like, I really appreciate that…but I've actually already got something in the works."

"Oh?" Darius asks curiously, vanishing his scroll with a lazy flick of his fingers and trying his damnedest not to feel jilted. "Well, if there's anything you need, please let me know," he adds.

"Actually…" Hunter perks up, running his hands through his fluffy mess of light blond hair and wincing a little as that signature stubborn forelock of his snaps back and hits him in the eye. "Do you think you could help me with my hair? It's gotten a little long since the last time Willow cut it, and seeing as it's a special occasion, I'd like to go at least one night without Luz calling it my hair noodle," Hunter huffs, rolling his eyes like it vexes him, but the fond smile that accompanies it gives him away.

Darius chuckles, and a memory, visceral and bittersweet, sparks across his mind. That same face, riddled with just as many scars in different places, scowling in the mirror of a club they'd snuck into late one night while they were supposed to be on guard duty, tugging on the end his 'hair noodle' as Hunter had put it, trying in vain to get it to lay flat.

A younger Darius, snorting with laughter as he plucks a jar of hair product out of his bag and tells him to hold still, slicking up his hands and running them through the other man's light blond hair.

"There," he says with a snarky grin. "Now you won't look like such an idiot when you inevitably get drunk and ask her to dance."

The man grins back at him with a gap between his two front teeth, dark red eyes rolling in fond amusement.

Jasper. The previous Golden Guard.

In truth, he wasn't all that surprised when Hunter confided in him about being a grimwalker. Fucked up origins and intentions aside, it was honestly a relief to find out that he wasn't going crazy — he always found it odd that the boy looked so very like his old mentor.

So alike, yet so entirely different. Sometimes, it almost feels like he's raising his best friend's son.

"There's a special pomade I can pick up for you in Latissa," Darius says, lips twisting into a wistful smile.

"Cool," Hunter says brightly. "Thanks, Darius."

"You're very welcome," he replies. "And I'm sure whatever you've got planned for your outfit will look great."

"Here's hoping," Hunter says with a nervous chuckle. 

"Speaking of which, do you mind if I—" he adds, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the staircase.

"Of course. Go, have fun," Darius says, waving him off. "Just remember to take breaks and actually eat something. Dinner'll be ready at 7."

"Thanks!" Hunter calls out, already halfway up the stairs to his bedroom, eager to get back to work.

• • •

The following Saturday night, Hunter comes waltzing into the living room dressed in a hand-stitched 80's era shoulder pad bedecked orange and yellow floral patterned suit jacket, complete with a comically large bright yellow bowtie, and Darius nearly spits tea all over his gratuitously overpriced purple silk pajamas.

"So…what do you think?" Hunter asks, spinning on the heel of his matching red sneakers to give Darius the full effect.

Of course, Darius's first instinct (after cringing hard enough to risk permanent injury to his face muscles) is to offer to take Hunter on an emergency shopping trip, or at the very least, tailor something for him to wear from his own closet…but the look on Hunter's face, so excited for his first-ever Grom, so proud of this thing he made with his own two hands, eyes sparkling with anticipation as he eagerly awaits Darius's approval, makes him bite his tongue.

Darius relaxes his features, lips curving into a fond smile as he replies, "You look very handsome, Little Prince," and Hunter beams back at him with one of those gap-toothed grins that's been growing less and less rare by the day.

"Let me just fix one thing," he adds, because old habits die hard, setting aside his teacup and strolling over to readjust that silly yellow bowtie.

"Oh," Hunter lets out a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, I had a little trouble with that. Funny, I can sew a bowtie no problem, but actually tying one…"

"It remains a great mystery to many of us," Darius chuckles. "Luckily, I've had some practice over the years." (He won't mention that it's because he had a lot of experience loosening them on Grom dates when he was Hunter's age.)

"There you go," he says, securing the final knot, careful not to make it too tight. "That should hold just fine through even the wildest of dance moves," he laughs, remembering how crazy and stupid he and his friends used to get whenever their favorite songs came on. To this day, Darius still maintains he should've beaten Alador in that dance battle. Perhaps they should schedule a rematch…

"Thanks," Hunter huffs out a laugh, catching sight of himself in the mirror above the mantle and admiring Darius's handiwork. He reaches up to card a hand through his hair, desperately trying to smooth back that one stubborn lock.

"It's not too much, is it?" he asks, lips pulling into a pensive frown. Hair product? Yes. Darius watched him dump out half the jar onto his head not ten minutes prior. "D'you think Willow will like it? I picked out the pattern just for her."

Ah. The floral fashion disaster.

Once again, it's a struggle for Darius not to tell him what he really thinks, blunt honesty and snarky remarks second nature to him. (He's still very new to this whole dad thing, but hey, he's trying.)

"I think, for Willow, it's less about what you wear and more about the guy wearing the floral suit," he says, choosing his words carefully. "I think she'll appreciate all the effort you put into making something so meaningful. So, go out there tonight and be confident, let your pride in your work shine through."

Hunter's eyes crinkle around the corners when he smiles, and Darius breathes a sigh of relief that he managed to say the right thing.

"Thanks, dad— uh, Darius," he says, a hint of pink tinging the tips of his ears as he catches himself.

"Any time, Little Prince," Darius replies, affection flooding his chest at that hopeful little almost.

Just then, the doorbell rings, and Hunter is so eager to answer it, he accidentally zooms past the front door in a flash of golden light.

"Whoops," he chuckles from the coat closet. "Over-shot it a little."

He pauses briefly to re-fluff his hair and readjust his shoulder pads in the closet mirror, takes a deep steadying breath, and opens the door.

Standing on the other side, forest green ballet flats clicking against the front porch as she bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet, is none other than the Little Prince's girlfriend, dressed in an elegant high-cut gown the color of a jade gemstone, and holding a bouquet of flowers that's a near-perfect match for the colors of his floral suit.

Oh, they're perfect for each other, Darius muses with a fond smile as he watches their adorable little interaction unfold.

"Hunter, you look…wow," she says, pale green eyes half-lidded behind her gold-framed glasses as she gazes at him with a soft, smitten smile — like he's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen and that suit of his is the height of fashion.

"Now that is a look," she says, not a trace of disingenuity in her appraising smile. "Did you make it yourself?"

Clearly Hunter shares the sentiment, staring dreamily at her with a dopey, besotted smile on his face. 

"Wha—?" he blurts out, eyes sliding back into focus. "Oh, uh. Yeah! I mean—" he pauses, putting on what he probably imagines is a cool, carefree expression, stretching up to lean his arm along the doorframe in an oh-so-casual move to show off a little more of his handmade suit. "This old thing? I whipped it up in like, an hour, tops."

Darius suppresses a snort of laughter. An hour his ass. He remembers hearing that damnable sewing machine rattling the walls at all hours of the night every day for the past week.

"Amazing," Willow coos, reaching up to tuck one of the little yellow flowers from her bouquet into the front pocket of his already loudly floral suit. Hunter sucks in a sharp breath, cheeks flushing pink at the contact.

"Not as amazing as you," he says, a little breathless. "Look at you! You're so…well, I mean, you're always beautiful, but I've never seen you like this before." 

His eyes rove her figure, taking in the full effect, adam's apple straining against the column of his throat when he notices how well that pretty green dress hugs her curves. 

His eyes snap back up to her face, blush deepening.

"I like your headband!" he blurts out, gazed fixed resolutely on the matching silk ribbon taming some of the wilder waves of her pixie cut. "It goes really well with your new hair."

"Thanks, Hunter," she whispers, leveling him with a flirtatious wink before leaning up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek, sending Hunter's face careening all the way into burgundy territory.

"I'll have him home by midnight," she tells Darius, grabbing an utterly spellbound Hunter by the wrist and gently tugging him out the front door.

"Have a good time, you two!" Darius calls after them, shaking his head in fond amusement as he catches a glimpse of the positively euphoric grin on Hunter's very red face, turning around to give Darius an enthusiastic thumbs up before the door closes in a blur of lurid orange and yellow.

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 3.10

“Do you think this will work?”

Glenn looks across the room at Beth, whose eyes look full of worry as she rushes to pack the food supplies into boxes. “It’s got to work,” he replies. “It’s our only plan, and if not, we are ready to run.”

“It’s a lasker trap,” you say. “The governor will think he has the upper hand in storming the prisons, but searching for us is just a distraction, and the dead are decoys giving us time to move in.”

Using a thick bush as cover, you watch as the governor rolls up to the prison in an army tank. They destroy one of the watchtowers closest to the entrance of the courtyard first and fire repeatedly at the one across from it, hoping to kill anyone inside it. You grow nervous seeing how many people from Woodbury have joined him in attacking your home. You wonder what lies he told them to make them think you're the villain.

Daryl had arrived back not long after leaving to find his brother and Michonne. Merle had a change of heart and let Michonne go instead of handing her over, and then he decided to attack the governor’s army.

You turn and look toward where Daryl is hiding. Making out the outline of his figure, the pain in his voice when he told you Merle was dead was heartbreaking; he was truly devastated. You weren’t fond of Merle, but he did what he did out of his love and loyalty for Daryl, which was something to be admired. Merle had combat training; he knew the odds were against him and still did it anyway to give his brother a fighting chance.

You repeat the plan quietly to yourself again and again while waiting. The goal wasn’t to kill the people from Woodbury, but to make them think twice about killing your group and your family. The only men you need to take out are the men who tortured you and Glenn, because you knew they would never stop.

Alarms blare in the distance, so you know they made it into the cell block Rick set flares to go off in, which would attract any walker nearby. A few moments later, the majority of the governor's army ran out of the prison. Glenn and Maggie fire at them, while you fire at the bastard who sliced your leg. Unfortunately, he makes it into one of the vehicles they drove in without a scratch.

Within a few minutes, the governor and his men retreat and drive away.

—

You run fast, as your legs will carry you into the prison to regroup with everyone. Soon as you enter the cell block, you go over to Beth and take Jace from her arms and kiss his chubby cheeks. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah,” your brother replies. You were surprised by the haunted look on Rick’s face. You noticed the gun Carl had was now in Rick’s belt, but you didn’t question him about it.

“We ain’t done yet,” Daryl says. “The assholes will just keep coming back.”

Maggie nods in agreement. “We need to take the fight to them.”

“I’ll be back soon, baby, okay?” You cuddle Jace closer to you before handing him back to Beth. Everyone takes a short breath to catch their breath and reload their weapons. When it was time to leave, you were one of the last to leave the cellblock.

Just as you reach the doorway, Daryl stops and looks back at you, looking concerned. “No, no way. Y/n, you can’t go to Woodbury. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous for everyone.”

Daryl steps closer to you; there is a desperation in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “It’s not the same; if something happens to us, those kids are going to need you.”

“Daryl…”

“I’ve just lost my brother; I can’t have you dying too. Just stay, please.”

Rick cleared his throat, making it known he had overheard. “We are going to need someone to stay here and defend this place in case anyone comes back.”

The thought of staying behind while the rest of them risked their lives made you feel guilty, like you were taking the easy way out. You bit down on your bottom lip and said, “Fine.”

“Rick,” Glenn says, walking up the hallway. “Me and Maggie are going to stay behind as well.”

“Three stay, three go.”

—

“You should go back inside; it’s getting late.”

Beth gives you a look and says, “And leave you out here yourself? What if the governor's men come back?”

A knot twists your stomach. It had been hours, and your brother, Daryl, and Michonne hadn’t returned you. “If they come back, I’ll yell. I don’t want you guys running on fumes; I’ll be fine out here.” You point at a small cluster of walkers and say, “Once I’ve cleared them, I’m going to keep watch so nobody will see me if they do come back.”

Beth surprises you by hugging you before going back inside.

You take your frustration over not knowing what was going on in Woodbury out on the walkers, using a pole to stab them roughly in the head. All the noise from gunfire had attracted a lot of them, and if you left them to gather, the fences would come down. Stepping back, you look up at one of the lookout points, which was on a higher ledge, and see Carl ducking behind one of the crates, who had come out to keep an eye on you from a distance. “Carl, go to bed.”

“No.”

You sigh; your nephew was just as stubborn as you. “You need to get some sleep.”

“We need to watch each other back. It’s what my dad would want.”

Your expression softens slightly. “Okay, but go back inside and get some blankets. It’s getting cold, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay,” Carl says, getting to his feet. “Aunt y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re gonna come back. My dad, Daryl and Michonne, I just know they will.”

—

Not long after the sun comes up, you spot a vehicle approaching. Lightly, you shake Carl awake. He had stayed by your side during the nights, but not long after you wrapped him up in blankets, he fell asleep. “Hey, we’ve got something. They’re a bus heading right for us.”

He goes inside and alerts the others. Using your scope, you zoom in and see Rick jumping out of the bus and running to open the gates. You go down the concrete stairs on still legs; no matter what position you move into during the night, it is impossible to get comfortable. Once the gate was open, he waved for Michonne to come in.

You stick your head in the hallway door and call out, “It’s safe.”

Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Hershel come outside. They seem relieved and confused by the bus full of people.

You go over and hug Rick. “What happened out there?”

“The governor killed all those people, then fled. When we went into Woodbury and offered the people a choice, they could stay there or come back with us.”

You smile in amazement watching elderly couples and women with children, including babies, come off the bus. Most of the adults carried supplies of food, clothing, and other useful supplies as they came off the bus. Delighted, Hershel greets them all while Maggie and Glenn start planning which cellblock to move them into.

This was a chance for a fresh start.

You watch as Daryl disappears behind the back of the school bus, and you go down to check on him. “Hey, are you doing okay?”

He shrugs. Although he was staring straight ahead, you could see tears glistening in his green eyes. With things happening so fast, he hadn’t even begun to mourn Merle’s death.

“I’ve never had the chance to say it, but I’m sorry about your brother. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“Before... in the prison...” he finally turns to look at you. “I was afraid. We are like a family, you know? But for you and the little man, it’s different. I don’t know how to describe it; it just is. After me and Merle went rogue, we spotted a family trapped in their car being attacked by walkers. We took the walkers out, then they drove away. They had a baby with them, and it’s crying that attracted the walkers in the first place, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what if that was you and Jace trapped, and I…I left Merle behind to come back. I just want to keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to say; there were very few words you could use at that moment. So instead, you place your hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, pull him close to you, and kiss him.

[gildedtragedies]

YOU KNOW WHAT IM GONNA ASK 👹🦩

WOOOOOO i have been looking for an excuse to share snippets here we go (these are unedited bear with me) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 👹:

Claudius blinks, processing the absurdity of this whole situation as a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Wait. You did all of this because you couldn’t send a text?”

“I didn’t know how to word it!” Petra protests, but he can barely hear her over the sound of his own laughter. He starts to catch his breath, but one glance at her puffed-up cheeks sends him spiraling all over again.

“Stop laughing! I should’ve let you die when you had bronchitis.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being around anyone who sucks at this worse than I do.”

Claudius finally manages to calm down, wiping the tears from his eyes while Petra sits there glowering and looking like she might just use him for target practice after all. 

“This is all Dash’s fault.” Petra says. “I’m never taking advice from a Four again.”

“So, same time next week?” 

“Not even in your wildest dreams.” Petra slides her textbook into her bag and stuffs the flashcards into the front pocket. She turns to face him, her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and fond exasperation. “I’m gonna go make out with Selene and try to forget that you exist.”

She walks off before he can come up with anything clever. He shakes his head, muttering, “What the fuck, Petra,” under his breath as she closes the door behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 🦩:

With a groan, he heaves himself out of bed, rubbing at his eyes as he stumbles into the living room. Petra’s sprawled on his couch, one arm dangling off the side and a puddle of drool darkening the fabric beneath her face. It’s a miracle anyone can fall asleep to the sounds of the Village’s new inhabitants—Mating? Fighting? He doesn’t care. The only sound he wants to hear from those damn ostriches is the sizzle of them roasting over an open fire.

He risks a glance out the window and immediately regrets it. Add that to the ever-growing list.

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Brutus mutters, throwing open the front door.

It’s worse than he imagined. They’re not mating. They’re not fighting. No, they’re racing.

The first emotion he feels is betrayal, because gathered in a circle, cheering and placing bets, are all the people who should know better—his own mentor, two of his Victors. He’s seriously considering throttling Devon and Artemisia with his bare hands when Petra stirs behind him.

She sits up in a daze, wiping the drool from her cheek with the collar of her pajama shirt and snatching her cane from the back of the couch.

“Did I miss the race?” she asks, rising to her feet with a wince that Brutus respectfully ignores. “I had money on Plutarch Feathersbee.”

Brutus stares at her, words failing him for a long, agonizing moment. Finally, with the weariness of a man who has seen too much, he exhales.

“No, sweetheart,” he says. “You didn’t miss it.”

[1singulargrape]

Been thinking about the prompt with Yuuji and 4 Sukunas a lot lately, mainly about what versions of Sukuna it'd be and trying to figure out a plot because that prompt had been living in a white void for me so far. So here's what I got :3

First of Yuuji: post canon ofc, more or less the same as we know except instead of occasionally looking at his missing fingers with some melancholy, he has his Blobkuna he carries with him everywhere, acting maybe a tad overprotective of him but still fairly normal [by Yuuji's standard] apart from that

Blobkuna: very fond of his brat, does wish he had more freedom but he isn't going to complain either. Him and Yuuji are basically always together, eating, sleeping, going to missions etc.. It took a while for Yuuji's friends to get used to that because they're weirdly codependent

Yuujikuna: I'd say, post Shibuya-early Culling Games, a time where his satisfaction from his fights was starting to run out and he was growing frustrated with his captivity again, although he knew he just had to be patient and strike at the right time. He'd be mostly confused by this situation but also the happiest to have regained a body of his own and the one that has the highest risk of just running off and cause chaos on purpose, just to stretch his limbs a bit

Megukuna: I'd say he's from somewhere near the end of the training month, maybe 3-5 day before the 24th. This one is used to his freedom, at the top of his form and itching to fight. Being thrown in the future is annoying because he's already killed people that had the potential to entertain him although he really wants to know what the brat's been up to and who defeated him. So, openly curious, will try to start fights

These 2 are definitely disgusted by what Yuuji and Blobkuna have going on (although I'm not very confidant in my characterization for them)

Now onto True Form Sukuna, first things first I'm going with the post-271 version because I can't think of a reason an unrestrained Sukuna from the Heian era would stick around, in my mind he's running off the second he understands he's in the future

So, this Sukuna who chose to do one last act of kindness and did not curse Yuuji is brought back to life (already annoyed he doesn't get to walk into the void with Uraume) and sees the remnants of himself burdening being taken care of by Yuuji. He's happy to see Yuuji alive and smiling, but he was gone and that version of him shouldn't exist in the first place, and when he asks to take the Blob to have a one to one talk, Yuuji gets very defensive and refuses to let go. Otherwise he's the chillest here and enjoys watching Yuuji trying to wrangle with his other selves

I do see Yuuji trying to discreetly use his technique on them and coming to the terrifying realization that they all inhabit their own bodies and his soul cleave will be nearly useless if he actually has to fight them

[The Sukuna that had his original body quickly grabbed his wrist in one giant hand and held it up uncomfortably. Shit, Yuuji thought, I've been caught.

"What is it Yuuji~? Looking for the edge of my soul?" he flashed a toothy grin towards the younger man who started panicking, Sukuna wasn't using a vessel like he had hoped but had his own body, it made things more difficult for him is things got violent.

"That little trick won't work on either of us, although..." he lowered the hand holding Yuuji's without letting go, his gaze softening when he spoke the next words, "I'd love to see how much you've improved."]

(yes I believe true form would make the other 2 eat dog food. it's a chinese slang look it up)

Now for the plot, the part where I was struggling. If I was sure I'd be writing it I would've kept it to myself but I know I won't so here we go:

Yuuji has 4 versions of Sukuna to deal with that are sticking to him for plot reasons, and it's a lot. A lot of pain, a lot of grief, a lot of regrets and also, a bit of joy. Obviously this isn't normal and they have to be sent back to wherever they came from but Yuuji wants to take the time to reconnect with them a bit, show them that things could be different once they go back.

note: Yuuji's feeling towards them isn't something I've fully grasped yet but maybe his enthusiasm to show them love and attention might be in his smile but not his eyes and it makes a disturbing painting that leaves the Sukunas somewhat disturbed.

True Form would see right through it tho, he's been there after all. But the fact that a piece of himself stayed behind is upsetting to him so he eventually manages to separate Yuuji and Blobkuna to study it

And as it turns out, this isn't one of them at all. It's a curse Yuuji created without realizing because he didn't want to grief someone else. He has his grandpa and Junpei and Nanami and Choso and his brothers and his teacher and so many people he couldn't save and he couldn't add Sukuna to the list. Not yet. Not so soon. And that how Blobkuna was born, in the ashes of Sukuna's residues and out of a love he wasn't ready to let go. (it's similar to what Yuta did)

Yuuji kinda goes through it for a bit after learning that. He doesn't want to let go again ofc but he's had some time by then. Making his peace with all of them helped. It's not any easier but he has to respect Sukuna's final wish of moving on. (to Blobkuna it's kind of like learning you've never existed. they both take it poorly)

(I do see True Form sighing and pulling Yuuji in for a hug, then glaring at the others until they hug him too. Group hug for Yuuji, he needs it :'))

So at the end of the day, Yuuji had one, then four, then no Sukuna as they all leave. True Form tells him that they will meet again in his next life and Yuuji smiles and nods. It's a promise.

[redfurrycat]

🤠🧩💕♾️🧩🐓Soulmates Fic Recs🐓🧩💕♾️🧩🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: 228am, Aphroditedany, Aiolia, Alecjbi, AnadoraBlack, Barnes_Brain, BethAnnAngel, Callsignvalley, Fadedseas, Ginnydear, Glitterfayy,  Haaaveyoumetted, Halestrom, Hangmanbradshaw, Haridwar, Icezansky, Lovelybattle, Nixie_DeAngel, OfTheDirewolves, ReformedTsundere, Slyther_ing, SunMonTue, Thegeckbros, ToukoJalorda003, Trinipedia, Un_familiar, WaffleToaste, Welcome_to_the_Badlands, Winterbucky, Writteninwaves, WWISA.

Life in Technicolor by AnadoraBlack {T}

“Hey Mav?” “Mmh?” They are sitting on the beach outside their house, feet buried in warm sand as they are watching the sun set. Bradley is leaning on his godfather’s shoulder, trying to imagine what it would be like to see something else than all the – admittedly lovely – shades of grey that make up his world. “When do you think I’ll get my colours?” Mav wraps an arm around his shoulders affectionately. “I only got mine when I was twenty-three, you know. You’ve got time, you’re only fourteen, kiddo…” The brown-haired teenager at his side shrugs again. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s anxious to know what it feels like. To get one’s colours. To find one’s soulmate.

it's your big scene, you know your lines by aiolia {M}

The anger came first. Lingered. Many years down the road, sorrow made itself a place inside Jake Seresin’s heart — and stayed. In a world where every lie you tell your soulmate shows up as a scar in their body, Jake Seresin is determined to never lie.

Even if the World Goes up in Smoke, I’ll Stand With You by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

All Hangman had ever wanted out of life was two things: to be a Top Gun pilot, and to find his soulmate. One of these is, apparently, much more attainable than the other. And it wasn’t the soulmate one. Rooster, on the other hand…well. He was really something else.

it made me think maybe human's not such a bad thing to be by un_familiar

you hang me up, unfinished (with the better part of me no longer mine) {M}

There are a million things standing between Jake Seresin and his soulmate–gender, Jake’s tendency to overthink and run his mouth, the fact that his soulmark is high up on his ribs, hidden, the bruises his dad leaves, but the biggest one is probably the simple fact that he has no idea how to love.

told me this was love {T}

“You could always wing it,” Jake suggests, not inclined to stop smiling in the least. “You probably know all those embarrassing stories by heart, anyways.” He only gets a fond huff and rolled eyes in response before Bradley starts pacing again.

When The Sky Falls by Welcome_to_the_Badlands {G}

“No one has called me that in a year and a half, and the one time someone did, he almost got a broken nose,” Bradley says, his face still buried in Jake’s chest. Jake sucks in a sharp breath but doesn't say anything. “No one has touched me in about that long either,” Bradley adds after a few seconds.

Rare by lovelybattle {E}

Bradley didn't think anything of all the different people he met that day. He couldn't even remember most of them. It was completely normal to meet people that you'd never see again in his line of work. What wasn't normal was the new bright red mark that he found on his arm when he got home. A soul mark.

In The Next Life by Barnes_Brain {E}

In 1972, Jake Seresin, a 30 year old Blue Angel, meets 26 year old Bradley Bradshaw, only son of the Governor of California. Jake thinks he’s a stuck up rich kid. The fact he’s attractive despite that hippie moustache, and snarky personality plays absolutely no bearing on his decision to risk his career, his life, his heart on this man he just met. Absolutely none. After feelings bloom and time grows short, Bradley reveals his biggest secret. Glioblastoma’s median survival time is 9 months from diagnosis to death. Some live longer, most live shorter, and Bradley’s known for three months. And as they fall Bradley gives Jake something he never thought he’d experience. True love. People always say that those who die young never have enough time, but maybe it’s how you use it instead?

obliterate me by fadedseas {T}

Jake Seresin comes from a long line of men that burn bright and fast, and flame out just as quickly. He knows that Bradley Bradshaw is his soulmate. He knows that he is destined to die young. He knows that Bradley Bradshaw is going to end up killing him one day. But Jake Seresin refuses to go quietly. Or a Cursed Soulmates AU in which all the men in Jake Seresin's family die young at the hands of their soulmates. And then Bradley's name appears on Jake's wrist.

The Ink On Our Hearts by trinipedia {T}

Bradley has waited all his life to meet his soulmate, who has been there for him during the worst and the best moments, but he'd have never expected where that person was going to come from. Jake knew his soulmate was going to be worth all the heartache he had to suffer. Now, if only he could find them. OR: When you turn eight, you get connected with your soulmate, and everything you draw on your skin appears on theirs, as long as it's not words.

Love and heartbreak walk a thin line by glitterfayy  {E}

Knowing you have a soulmate, a romantic soulmate, and wanting to know them were two different things, and Bradley was sure of one thing. Knowing only ended in heartache. Mav wonders if he's always destined be left behind. OR Soulmate AU when you turn 18 you get a compass that leads you to your soulmate. A story in 2 parts. First part covers Mav. Second Bradley and Jake.

tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow by alecjbi {T}

They said the woman in the woods would show herself only in someone’s darkest hour, when they needed her the most. If there was any time for it, Jake thought, it was now.

etymology of a soul by writteninwaves {T}

etymology   n. the study of the origin of words, how they got their meanings and how they change over time a study of souls, soulmates, friends you choose, family you find & all the ways souls can feel sorrow, break, and mend themselves back again. Bradley Bradshaw has two soulmates, one platonic and one romantic. However, it isn't that easy to find your loved ones when you have loss and grief following you everywhere. Based on & Inspired by Comin2U's Fic "You'd Say I Love You and How Proud", where Natasha is IceMav's long lost daughter.

it was only ever you by haridwar {E}

Different lives, different faces, different names and identities. Centuries of chasing. Those eyes, that soul, still inexplicably the same. It was both a blessing and a curse that Jake was the one forever burdened to remember first. or: soulmates au where they reunite once they've recovered memories from their past lives

feed your soul with love by ginnydear {T}

- this is the way to heal your wounds eight days in bradley and jakes life. 

Thunder in Their Hearts And Chaos in Their Bones by WWISA {G}

Jake picked up a sharpie, scribbled the words, and extended his wrist to his uncle, “I don’t think it’s that difficult. See? I came for you.” But Jake never knew the name of uncle Ted’s soulmate who never showed up. Just another lost Seresin soul, buried alone in the ground. Handing over all himself but was still left alone. He refused to have an ending like that.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze. by haaaveyoumetted {G}

The color of your vision changes with your soulmate's mood

there's oceans between you and me (once again) by thegeckbros {E}

Bradley doesn’t really know when it ended. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know when it began, either. He and Jake are like the tides, pulling in and pushing out on an endless cycle with no discernible edge. Sure, there’s a pattern there, but Bradley can’t find it, can’t control it. Or maybe he can, but he doesn’t want to. If there’s an end to be found, he doesn’t want it. Even if that means he’ll be dragged out every time he’s pulled in. Or bradley's afraid of fate, and jake doesn't believe in it

knew you for a second (gone in flashing lights) by callsignvalley {M}

Hey Mustache! I heard that, his dad had striped across his collarbone, because subtlety was lost on him while talking about the beautiful blonde across the bar. Bradley used to color around his mom’s mark that swirled on her wrist, you were supposed to, with washable markers when he was a kid, while she recounted how Goose had taken a full thirty seconds to stop gaping like a fish at hearing his own words before managing to respond.

it's 2am and i'm cursing your name by hangmanbradshaw {E}

“Yeah, but you know him better than anyone, right? You could give me advice.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know I’m not an expert on romance or whatever, but if he’s your true love, shouldn’t you just, I don’t know, be yourself?” “You gotta help me. I don’t want to be stuck as a rooster forever. Please.” The final please broke him. He looked so sad, voice clearly miserable and desperate. Jake took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and mumbled. “I’m going to regret this.” He opened his eyes and said louder, “Fine. Alright.” Or Rooster's a rooster, and Jake definitely isn't his soulmate aka the Hangster Princess & the Frog AU (with a twist) After all, all it takes is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust (or in this case, bickering, helping the guy you're in love with land another prince, and a meddling warlock)

the stars align (just one time) by OfTheDirewolves {M}

In one world a prince fell in love with a lord but the world was cruel and they were robbed of the time they deserved... In another two pilots meet at top gun but it will take them too long to fully understand what they mean to each other. or Jake and Bradley fall in love over multiple lifetimes, will they finally get it right? or will they keep getting in their own way? A Bradley Bradshaw x Jake Seresin Reincarnation AU

Talk to Me by ReformedTsundere {T}

When Bradley crashes, the voice in his head refuses to let him give up.

hand in unlovable hand by 228am {E}

Rooster scoffs, “You’re a lot of things, Seresin, but you’re not stupid.” He crosses both arms over his chest. After a moment, he speaks again, “We’re soul—” Jake interrupts icily, “Don’t fucking say it.” or, Jake and Bradley are soul bonded and Jake is handling it super normally.

All My Friends Say by BethAnnAngel {G}

In a world that’s monochromatic until you find your soulmate, Bradley wakes up to a world full of color and a terrible hangover.

What You Need to Know About Cupids by icezansky {G}

According to the Fates, one “Jake Seresin” and one “Bradley Bradshaw” are destined to love one another. They just need a little intervention in the form of a Cupid to seal the bond.

fight worth winning by winterbucky {M}

In a world where your soulmate's last words are written on your body, they all try to find beauty in tragedy. Bradley, marked with his soulmate's stubbornness and desperation is already halfway in love with them, even without knowing them. It just so happens that a certain blonde pilot, as gorgeous as he is infuriating, captures his attention too. Laying dying on the ground, Bradley isn't ready to accept death. It's just lucky that his soulmate isn't either. or soulmate au: last words, but with no mcd. instead there's asshole in love, vampires, and stubborn jake. of course

I've Got You Under My Skin by ReformedTsundere {T}

It was like getting hit in the face with the door of his locker but worse, and Jake had fallen to the sidewalk in a heap, arm aching something fierce and lines across his cheek and chin stinging hot. He hadn't realized he was crying until Mrs. Walker, two doors down from his own, had found him with a startled gasp and helped him up, wiping his face with the edge of her blouse. "Oh honey," she'd said, and Jake hadn't understood her pitying tone, still confused at what the hell had hit him when all the spontaneous pains settled down to a strange thrumming, less sharp but still notable, and he'd realized. A pain echo. His soulmate.

Part-Time Soulmate by halestrom {M}

In a world where your soulmate's initials are written over your heart, the last thing Bradley ever expected was to find out after almost a decade of decade of arguments and not-so-friendly competition was that Hangman was his soulmate. It was fine. Really. He was totally fine with it. They could figure it out. Really. It would be fine. Totally fine.

You found me by SunMonTue {E}

Bradley didn't expect to meet his soulmate halfway across the world, especially not when he's meant to be working. Good thing staying close to Jake is part of the job. Now he just has to manage to not get too close while also ensuring Jake understands that he's all in.

Navigating colours (in a world of black) by WaffleToaster {M}

Based on the concept of soulmarks. Where you carry your own colour and that of your soulmate as well. Two pilots who each have different experiences regarding their soulmarks and who are both different from anyone else find out they might have something in common after all. And as their story progresses they find something they thought they had lost long ago. “We’re not friends, Bradshaw-” “But we’re not enemies either…”

Words Can Hurt, Words Can Sooth by Nixie_DeAngel {T}

Bradley Bradshaw knows he’s destined for pain and heart ache. For loneliness and an early grave. Knows it when he’s still a teenager when he decides he’s going to do everything he can to send his soulmate running in the opposite direction of himself. It’s especially not a difficult decision to make because he’s 17 and watching his mother be lowered into the ground next to his father. He’s 17 and spent almost his entire life watching his mother be a shell of a person after losing her other half.

Pretty Young Gods by slyther_ing {E}

To most people, Bradley flies conservative because he lost his dad too young. That’s not wrong. It’s just also hard to take risks when Jake Seresin’s livelihood ties pretty explicitly to his. Playing Fields {M} Bradley lay face down, most of the time, the left side of his face pressed into the pillows with one hand spread over Jake’s stomach. Like a needed anchor. - vignettes from Pretty Young Gods

I Walked With You (Once Upon A Dream) by Aphroditedany {E}

In a world where people fall in deep sleep until they are awoken by their perfect other halves,their soulmates, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is surrounded by such people who had once fallen in Soulmate Sleep. He doesn't believe he has a soulmate (shut up, Nat). In any case, less than 10% of the global population has discovered their soulmates. He'd rather study and pine after the Sleeping Aviator, the man who's been in Soulmate Sleep for about 70 years. Jacob Alexander Seresin.

[maruchan25]

Hello could you please make a headcanon of scp 049 as a father?

Yes OFC!! Thanks for the request!

Warnings:mention of abortion,robbed,experimented on between this gift its not mine!

-it was quite the shock when his partner revealed to him that they were expecting but he didn't react in a bad way he was calm and happy? You couldn't really know cuz his mask but by his tone you knew he was happy it wasn't on his plans and goals To be a father but being a father wasn't his major concern, right now his biggest concern was going to happen to his partner and kid the foundation wasn't a place to have kids that was his mainly concern what would happen when the foundation staff found out he and his partner conceived a child? That wasn't a risk he was fond to go through but neglect it's existence wasn't an option neither all he could do was being overprotective of his partner he couldn't be too far from her he should be in the same room with her he didn't trust the people there he supported you every part of gestation he as a doctor knew better than everyone that preagnancy its difficult and it's not something to take lightly he sees it as a beautiful process where a woman grow another live on its womb so he threats you like you are porcelain its amusing but it has you annoyed most of the time he was in charge of the observation,take care and details of your preagnancy he wrote it all done on his notebook he made sure to only fed you things allowed for preagnat women even if it's a craving if it's not allowed of beneficial for the fetus you won't be having it he don't need food but he make sure to be with you when you consume all the food and vitamins your preagnat body needs he don't sleep either but make sure you have all the rest you need even if you aren't tired he is putting you on bed he is very happy he is gonna have a baby soon it only motivate him more to cure the pestilence so his little one has a good world to grew up when you are on bed just laying down he would go and rest his head on your bump as he think of the upcoming life he have been thinking of a good name for it he wants a French name for your baby he likes "cleménce" or "julie" for a girl he is more soft and sweet towards you during that times he had already know how he would raise his toddler and all!

[mikamikapodcast]

The Drowning Serial Killer

Pekka Tapani Seppänen, born in 1965, was for years known as a reclusive cattle farmer in the remote areas of North Karelia, Finland. Outwardly, he appeared to be a quiet man living off agricultural subsidies, fond of cows and rural life. But beneath this rural exterior lay something far more sinister. Today, he is known by one of the darkest titles in Finnish criminal history: The Drowning Serial Killer.

In 2017, Seppänen was sentenced to 14.5 years in prison for two counts of murder, three attempted murders, aggravated manslaughter, assault, pimping, and alcohol-related crimes. The court found that he had systematically drowned — or attempted to drown — victims during boating trips staged as accidents on Lake Viinijärvi, next to his summer cottage. His victims were often socially marginalized individuals suffering from addiction or intellectual disabilities, people Seppänen had drawn into his circle and sought to control.

Initially, the early deaths raised no alarms. They were recorded as accidents, despite several victims being heavily intoxicated and unable to swim. Boat capsized after boat — but only Seppänen ever returned dry.

A third drowning in 2014 finally prompted a deeper investigation. Finland’s National Bureau of Investigation began to connect Seppänen to a series of suspicious deaths. He was arrested in November 2015. Although initially released due to insufficient evidence, growing witness accounts and evidence led to formal charges and a trial. Court proceedings revealed chilling details of Seppänen’s sadistic control, manipulation, and violence.

The investigation and witness testimonies painted a grim portrait of a man who used fear, medication, and alcohol to dominate his victims. Multiple stories followed a disturbing pattern: Seppänen drugged, sexually abused, and assaulted his victims. One particularly horrifying case involved him inserting manure into the unconscious body of a woman he had drugged — a deed the court ruled as calculated and driven by a desire for revenge.

His victims were too afraid to turn to authorities. Known for his vindictiveness and violent temperament, Seppänen’s presence instilled deep fear. Many testimonies were given from behind screens in court.

In the true crime podcast Sarjahukuttaja (Storytel, 2023), Seppänen is linked to as many as 13 mysterious deaths, eight of which occurred while he was known to be present. He allegedly told several people that he had killed his own father in 1994 — shortly before inheriting the family farm. Officially, the father’s death was ruled accidental.

Many victims were either romantically involved with him or had recently tried to escape his influence. Jealousy and a fear of losing control emerged as recurring motives.

"He laughed at his victims’ graves and bragged that he would never get caught," the podcast reported.

Seppänen was a master manipulator. He built a closed circle around himself, luring in individuals with addiction issues and offering them alcohol, drugs, and a false sense of safety. These people, rejected by society, became utterly dependent on him — and he exploited them in countless ways. His summer cottage by Lake Viinijärvi became the scene of many of these crimes. Meanwhile, he continued running his farm and receiving thousands of euros in government and EU agricultural subsidies.

In 2015, animal welfare authorities intervened at his farm due to the inhumane conditions his cattle were kept in. Just days later, he was placed in custody as a murder suspect.

The Eastern Finland Court of Appeals upheld the original 14.5-year sentence, ordering Seppänen to serve the full term in prison. A psychiatric risk assessment concluded that he posed an extreme threat to the life, health, and liberty of others.

Criminal law professor Matti Tolvanen called the case unique in Finnish legal history. The precedent-setting aspect lay in how the court treated passive intent to kill — in other words, allowing drownings to occur without direct physical violence.

The case of The Drowning Serial Killer is a chilling reminder of how horrific crimes can hide behind the façade of an ordinary life for decades — and how dangerous a person can be when their crimes are only taken seriously after too many bodies have surfaced.

Sarjahukuttaja – Pekka Seppäsen synkkä rikoshistoria

Pekka Tapani Seppänen (s. 1965) oli tunnettu karjatilallinen Pohjois-Karjalasta, mutta hänen taustansa paljastui järkyttäväksi. Vuonna 2017 hänet tuomittiin 14,5 vuoden vankeuteen kahdesta taposta, kolmesta tapon yrityksestä ja muista vakavista rikoksista. Oikeuden mukaan Seppänen lavasti Viinijärvellä toistuvia soutuveneturmia, joissa uhrit hukkuivat – usein päihtyneinä ja uimataidottomina – kun taas hän itse selvisi aina vahingoittumattomana.

Uhrit olivat syrjäytyneitä, kehitysvammaisia tai päihderiippuvaisia, joita Seppänen kontrolloi pelolla, huumeilla ja alkoholilla. Esitutkinnassa paljastui myös seksuaalista hyväksikäyttöä ja sadistista väkivaltaa. Monet uhrit eivät uskaltaneet hakea apua, ja oikeudessa kuultiin heidän kokemuksistaan sermin takaa.

Storytelin Sarjahukuttaja-podcast yhdistää Seppäsen jopa 13 epäselvään kuolemantapaukseen, joista kahdeksan sattuivat hänen läsnä ollessaan. Hänen väitetään jopa tunnustaneen isänsä tappamisen saadakseen maatilan itselleen.

Seppänen loi ympärilleen riippuvuusverkoston ja käytti ihmisiä hyväkseen samalla kun pyöritti maatilaa ja sai yhteiskunnan tukea. Vuonna 2015 hän joutui tutkintavankeuteen pian sen jälkeen, kun eläinsuojeluviranomaiset olivat puuttuneet hänen karjatilansa oloihin.

Itä-Suomen hovioikeus piti tuomion voimassa ja arvioi hänet erittäin vaaralliseksi. Tapaus jää rikoshistoriaan esimerkkinä siitä, miten vakavat rikokset voivat pysyä piilossa vuosia – ja kuinka sarjamurhaaja voi kätkeytyä arkielämän kulissien taakse.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Silver-Blue Fox

Having no success in breaking the curse put upon Sapphire, Icy transfers it to herself and becomes a fox so that her sister can be human again.

She doesn’t mind the cold. In fact she has always rather liked it. Sapphire was born in the spring and she has summer’s temperament. Icy had always had more of an autumn temperament; gloomy and somber. Pensive and pessimistic with spots of golden sunlight and a brillant flare of color that was always too quick to pass. For every autumn there is a winter and hers settled in suddenly. 

It never passed.

It only grew. 

It only grows. 

Icy has grown fond of winter and how can she not when she derives her power from it. When her own nature has shifted to match its moods. Winter, snow, and ice kill her and save her at the same time. They drive her and depress her at once. She needs to drive winter out of Dyamond and she needs her frigid powers to do that. 

At the very least she needs those powers and a whole lot more power to free her sister. She can live with Dyamond being lost to her. But not Sapphire. She will sacrifice one gem to keep another if that’s what it takes. 

But these days she is beginning to think that she won’t salvage either one. And then what does she have? She has made a future for herself at Cloud Tower and then sacrificed that for the past. 

She had given herself a chance; she could have graduated, gotten herself a respectable career, gotten herself at least a decent sum of money. She could have made something of herself. But she had taken her risks—gambles for power that never paid off. And so she has nothing at all, nothing but a white fox and the empty promises that she has made to it.

She thinks that Sapphire too is growing sick of her. If Darcy and Stormy could, then Sapphire could too. She had promised Darcy and Stormy a lot of things that she hadn’t been able to deliver. She had told Darcy that she would never have to worry about find a place to sleep or a meal to eat and she promised Stormy that, once they had all the power in the world, that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. 

Darcy still has no home to return to and Stormy is considering speaking to her father again.

All Icy has is empty words. 

So she may as well say nothing at all. She is certain that most people would be perfectly okay with that, Bloom, Mirta, and Lucy especially. When she isn’t making promises that she can’t keep, she doesn’t have anything particularly pleasant to say. 

So really her decision is the right one. 

They will like Sapphire better anyways.  

She hasn’t any other ideas. She supposes that she could swallow down the scraps of her pride and ask the Winx girls if  “always being able to protect the magical universe” extends to and includes Dyamond and her sister. Or if Dyamond is just some dead planet not worth their time. And Sapphire is just some fox that they can leave out of sight and put out of mind. 

They are self-righteous, can never do wrong, everyone loves the Winx so dearly. Everyone worships them as eagerly as they had worshiped she, Darcy, and Stormy back in the day. And they do so with just as much zealous feverence. It is nauseating. Unbearable. And the Winx soak it right in and pretend like they don’t relish in it. 

Pretend like they haven’t inadvertently harmed a few in their pursuit of the greater good; nobody ever likes to talk about that. Nobody but Griffin. 

The Winx always did see things in black and white. There is no room for shades of gray in their perfect, vibrant, glittery world.

Icy is black and they are white.

By association, Sapphire is some dark twisted thing with a suspicious nature and a bad temper. They’d seen Icy cradle Sapphire in her arms and that was more than enough for them to judge and to decide. Sapphire had picked her side. She had picked Icy. She had picked evil. 

And so to help Sapphire is to help evil. 

Icy could ask them anyways on the off chance that she is mistaken. That her pessimism is unfounded for once. Or she could do things swiftly and easily. 

One simple and swift exchange. 

One promise fulfilled.

It is much easier than she had imagined and maybe that is because she isn’t trying to break a curse but rather transfer it. She feels the pulse of her magic but reaps none of the pleasantries of feeling it coursing through her veins. 

She knows what she is doing and she knows that once she does it, her fate is quite sealed. Witch on witch curses are harder to break than witch on fairy curses; nearly impossible in fact. Witch on self curses…

She has heard of maybe three or four instances of those being broken. To cast a curse on oneself…almost nobody does it anyways. 

Sapphire peers up at her with those big blue eyes. She probably has a lot to say but no voice to speak with. Sapphire had always been like that, spunky, daring, and bold. Loud and opinionated while Icy had kept herself tucked quietly into the background. Timid until the world and its cruelties had tarnished her. And she had promised that she’d pay it back one day. She thinks that she has done so many times over. That now it is time for the rage and resentment to subside. To put pointless quests and hopeless endeavors to the side. 

Now it is time to slink back into the background without another sound. 

Sapphire gives several of her discontented yips and yowls as the spell begins to radiate with a soft blue that outlines Icy’s hand. Sapphire can nip and bite all that she wants, Icy has already made up her mind.

The sensation of transformation isn’t entirely unpleasant. It is dizzying and disorienting more than anything else. It has that cold sting that her magic always takes on. It spreads all across her body like frost on a windowpane. And once it has crackled over and blanketed every inch of her, the spell’s work is done.

It subsides leaving an all over tickle and tingle to keep her company after its departure.

Icy lies still, breathing heavily as she tries to regather her senses, to reorient herself in a world that won’t stop spinning. She feels Sapphire’s hand on her side, her fingers running through silver-blue fur. 

Fingers…

Fur…

It had been a success. 

Some might call it karma. Some years back she had transformed Mirta into a pumpkin. Now she is a white fox. But where Mirta had Flora, Icy has no one. No one powerful enough nor possessing the right sort of magic to free her.

She wonders if Darcy and Stormy will bother looking for her. She hasn’t been treating them well lately anyways. Maybe she never had treated them well, she had always been so immersed in her own goals. They will do just fine without her, perhaps better. They likely won’t be coming for her.

And Sapphire? Sapphire is just a girl. A girl who had been suspended in time, deprived of the chance to grow up. A girl who has never ventured outside of Dyamond before. A girl who only knows how to leave because Icy had made sure to demonstrate that much to her prior to transferring the curse.

But it is alright. She doesn’t mind. Sapphire has a chance now whereas Icy had scoffed at every chance that she had once had. Yes. Yes, indeed she thinks that it is better this way. 

“Icy?” 

Icy smiles. She hasn’t heard that voice in so very long. It is just the same as she remembers. Soft and soothing. Enthusiastic and excitable. But the tone of it now is confused. Confused with speckles of fear.

Icy rises to her feet…paws? She rises to something but her gait is unsteady. Just as clumsy and unpracticed as Sapphire’s bipedal strides. And it occurs to Icy that she very well could have just made things worse for the both of them. If Icy, in all of her years, hadn’t managed to find a way to break the curse, then how can innocent, naive Sapphire?

Sapphire hugs her close. “Why did you do it?” She cries into Icy’s fur. “I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know how to break a curse. I barely even know how to use magic!” 

Which is why she will learn. She knows how to open a portal and she knows where to find Cloud Tower. But when she steps into the vortex it is Alfea that she walks towards. 

And maybe that is it. Maybe that was the key all along; Icy had wanted to be the strongest witch and, at least for a time, she thinks that she was. It wasn’t enough. But maybe light magic will be. “I hope that I’m not disappointing you.” Sapphire whispers as they approach Alfea’s gates. Icy can’t say it now, but Sapphire could never disappoint her. 

.oOo.

Icy trails along next to her. She is a small, sleek, and nimble thing. Where Sapphire had been all full of yips and yaps, her sister is exceptionally quiet. Mistrust and a desire for solitude is something that they share. Icy, she thinks, is significantly more standoffish than she had been. 

She keeps close to Sapphire, seeming to bristle and slink away from anyone who crosses their path. 

“I can go to Cloud Tower instead, if you’d like that.” Sapphire offers. Sometimes her words are minced and wrong. The product of a dreadful lack of use. There are a lot of things that she has to get reacclimated with from speaking and walking to talking to other people and catching up with the latest trends and technologies. 

She hopes for Icy’s sake that she will be a quick learner, she can’t imagine that Icy would enjoy having to readjust. She has always been substantially harder on herself. But then again, she won’t be as isolated as Sapphire herself had been.

Even so, Icy is less patient than she used to be. She has changed so much. She is harsher now, less soft spoken. Far less timid. Angrier. Meaner. 

Sometimes Icy scares her. 

Had scared her anyways. The fox is far less intimidating. She is so small. Small but refuses to be carried or cuddled.

“I can still turn back.” Even though she is halfway to the entrance of the Alfea campus. But Icy doesn’t tug at her nor sit definitely unmoving in the middle of the path. “So you’re okay with Alfea then?”

She doesn’t yet know how to read or interpret Icy’s head tilts and sideways glances. However Icy might be feeling about it, Sapphire is standing before the gates to Alfea. She lifts the fox into her arms. She expects squirming and nipping but Icy is as still as ever in her arms. 

Sapphire clears her throat. Her heart races, she is certain that Icy can hear it being as close to her chest as she is. She can’t mess this introduction up. She won’t! She has never been shy before, why start now? “Hello, my name is Sapphire and I’m looking for the headmistress.” She can’t recall what Icy had said her name was. She knows of Mrs. Griffin. Darcy, Stormy, Bloom, and Stella are familiar names too.

The woman beyond the gate smiles at her. “I am headmistress Faragonda.” 

“Excellent!” Sapphire declares. “I was hoping to enroll. One day I’d like to be…” Be what? The strongest fairy in the universe? She doubts that, that will happen. “I’d like to be like my sister.” She grins, stroking the fox’s fur. 

“Was your sister a fairy too?” The headmistress inquires.

“She used magic.” Sapphire answers. “She was good at it.” 

“Was?” The headmistress quirks a brow. 

Sapphire never was good at keeping secrets. Icy had told her that it would get her in trouble one day. “Is.” She corrects. “She’s good at magic.”

And that is it. That is all it takes.

The headmistress welcomes her in.

She and her beautiful frosty silver-blue fox. 

.oOo.

“We’re going to learn magic together!” Sapphire squeals. She twirls around and finds her way into the cafeteria. It would seem that she is just on time for first day orientation. 

“Oh my gosh! Your fox is so cute!” Declares a fairy with pink braids. “Look at her, Clarice!”

And so she finds herself flocked by a gaggle of cooing fairies whose fingers look quite biteable. She refrains only for the sake of not causing Sapphire any trouble. The girl hasn’t had company in so long, she could use a few friends. Even if that means enduring a lot of unwanted attention and petting for a very long time. 

“What’s her name?” Clarice asks. 

“Icy!” Sapphire declares much too honestly.

“Because she’s an arctic fox?” The other fairy asks.

“Yeah.” Sapphire nods. “Yup! That’s right. Because she’s an arctic fox and for no other reason.”

Icy signs. It is going to be a terribly long year. Or series of years. Full of glitter and giggles and frolicking fairies with bad taste in fashion and worse taste in music. 

“I think that she wants you to stop now.” Sapphire remarks. “Icy doesn’t really like people very much.” 

“Is she shy?” Clarice asks.

Sapphire shakes her head. “Nope. She’s just really grumpy all the time. It’s okay though, we get along.” She squeezes Icy, too tightly almost, and rubs her cheek against the top of her head. 

“Well you can come sit with us and we’ll try not to bother your fox too much.” Clarice says.

“But fairies like cute fluffy things.” Warns the fairy with the pink braid. “And your fox is very floofy.” 

Icy grimaces to herself. 

A long few years, indeed.

And four years of magic lessons might not amount to anything at all.

It is entirely possible that she won’t ever see her witch form again. But Sapphire is free. Free and beginning the adventure that she has always yearned for before the Shaman Witch had come along.

So it is alright. 

Everything is just fine.

Icy is content. Perhaps more fulfilled than she had ever been.

[daybreakrising]

@everlastiingiimmortals: "What if they kissed?" right back at you for blade/yingxing and jing yuan bc im feeling Evil

Memory is always a risk he knows better than to seek out, yet there is a thread wound tight about him that he cannot pick apart, cannot unravel, cannot sever no matter how sharp the blade. A thread that unspools across galaxies, tying him to a past he can never escape from, to the people he once so willingly entwined himself with, never once believing that one day this cursed thread would be like an anvil upon his chest, a crushing agony that haunts him day and night. He can only bear it for so long before he gives in, curls his fingers around that thread, and tugs.

The ever-burning fire at the back of his mind flares as a crimson-hued gaze watches the familiar silhouette step out upon the balcony, a gentle breeze lifting the mane of pale hair in a way that would have artists weeping with inspiration. He should not be here. He knows this, understands that he is playing dangerously - he should turn around, leave whilst he is still in control, but his feet remain planted firmly in place and he knows, he knows, he will not be leaving. Perhaps, a voice inside his head pipes up - familiar, warm, rich with an arrogance he can no longer muster within himself but which once coloured his every word - perhaps it will be fine.

And it is possible - of all of them, all those that remain at least, Jing Yuan summons the least negative emotions, the least negative memories. He cannot escape agony or bitterness with any of them, but his old friend, his old rival, brings with him a fondness that outshines all else. Theirs is the bond least changed, at its core.

He steps forward, out of the shadows that grow ever denser as night falls over the Luofu, and waits. It should only take a second for the general to sense him - and ah, yes, there it is: a slight movement of the head, a subtle shift of a gaze he is too far away to see clearly but knows in his heart is now affixed upon him. They stand, frozen in this moment, sizing each other up.

Then a deliberate incline of the general's head, a gesture unmistakable to the swordsman below. A gesture reminiscent of centuries past, of a craftsman begrudgingly allowing a cloud knight into his sacred forge, worn down by a dashing smile and a promise of wine. As Jing Yuan retreats back inside, Blade is just as quick to follow.

"You shouldn't keep coming back like this." The general's back remains turned to him, the welcome that is absent from his choice of words, and a gesture he knows to be of trust. "I can only look the other way so many times."

"So call the Cloud Knights," the swordsman challenges - and there it is, the softened edge of humour that sings of the man he once was. "We both know you won't."

There is no question to why he is here, why he has come, presumably because Jing Yuan knows the answer already. Why else would he have returned to this place of suffering, of tragedy, of agonising memory, but to visit someone worth it all? He may be powerless against the tie that binds him here, that binds him to the man before him, but who said he wishes to fight it?

"I think about it often," he utters, moving to stand at Jing Yuan's shoulder - and he briefly reminisces on a time when he stood taller, however short-lived that was. The day Jing Yuan realised he had surpassed him in height is one such memory forever burned into his mind, if only because the damned brat had reminded him of it for weeks to follow.

He shifts, angles himself towards the man beside him, a careful gaze trained upon his face. "That we were robbed of a chance to say goodbye. That we never knew the last time we saw each other, laughed together, would be the last time. It seems such a pity, doesn't it? Things fell apart so fast..."

A soft hiss slips past his lips as another flare burns within his mind, reminding him of the dangerous ground he is venturing into. He winces, flinches, and it is only after the moment had passed that he realises the fingers of his hand have caught at Jing Yuan's sleeve, have gripped tight as he wrestles with the monster within.

He releases his grip, but he does not lower his hand. Instead, he lays it more firmly, more deliberately upon Jing Yuan's shoulder, and the gaze that meets his is open, gentle, and almost apologetic. "I haven't brought dinner, or wine," he continues, referencing a time long past, "an oversight on my part, perhaps. But there is always next time."

Next time, because they both know this is not the last Jing Yuan will see of him. "Maybe I will save it for when we are ready to broach that topic. There are some things better washed down with wine, after all. We have experience of that."

He steps away, turns his back, returning the gesture of trust offered to him only moments earlier. "I shouldn't stay, as much as I wish to. It is... not a good moment." He feels the claws scratching at his mind, knows he cannot risk being here much longer. "But this is not a goodbye. Not quite. More like... see you later." Words, echoing back across the centuries, delivered back to the one who originally uttered them.

I remember, Blade is telling him. I remember it all.

There is a flurry of movement, of the swordsman turning, of a hand lifting to catch at the general's jaw. It is fleeting, the way lips graze the corner of Jing Yuan's mouth, the way that hand drops to rest instead, briefly, upon the general's broad chest. "Goodnight, Jing Yuan," he murmurs as he steps back, steps away, and slips back through the door in which they entered, disappearing at once into the welcome shadow, as if he was never there.

Only... something is changed in his absence. Sitting alone upon the table before the general is a blade, barely more than a dagger in size, and ancient, too. An antique, the design long since out of fashion, yet iconic with it. There is similarity in some of its features to the weapon wielded by the general, and should there be any further question as to whose hand crafted such a fine piece, the maker's mark stamped into the blade itself should leave no room for doubt.

This relic of their history rests atop a slip of paper, upon which only a single sentence is scrawled, the handwriting as equally familiar as the words themselves, again delivered back to the one who once spoke them.

Don't get too old while I'm gone.